The Darkest Night

by Catherine Wilson

  Ashen help me. What I wouldn’t do for a moment alone with this food.

  Beside me, a soft rumble sounds from Vivi’s stomach, and she eyes me with a rueful grin. It seems my grisly manners are not alone. Thank goodness for my sister.

  “Wasn’t Mother supposed to be joining us?” Vivi asks, catching the attention of both Ian and his uncle as they take their places across the endless sea of food.

  And Aras, I shamelessly think, deciding to let Ian do the explaining. Seeing as I understand nothing of the Theron court and I’ve only met my mother mere hours ago, I’m a little out of my league when it comes to answering any questions at this table.

  However, it’s not Ian who answers, but his father. “Yes, Viviana, your mother should be on her way at any moment.” He stops, turning to give Rosaline a questioning glance. She nods in answer before looking down to pick at the cream napkin placed in her lap. “It seems your Orien guard, Aras Renn, needed to speak with her about an unfortunate situation that took place at your court. I’m sure she’s adjusting to the news the best she can before she joins us for our meal.”

  Vivi’s hand squeezes my knee in question, but I avoid her gaze, settling on a grim-faced Ian, who now sits nervously across the way. His eyes flick up to catch my own, and my jaw clenches at the truths that swim in their endless pools.

  Aras told her about Bates.

  Bates, her loyal friend who I let become a sickening weapon to the one man she desperately tried to warn me about for so long. If only I would have listened. If only I would have taken better care of the few friends we had left. There’s no doubt in my mind that Bates could have been saved. I should have pushed him away. I shouldn’t have encouraged him to get even more involved than he already was. With my selfishness, I sealed his fate, and above all, I should have been the one to tell her.

  It was my foolishness that got him killed.

  “It’s true,” Ian allows, tearing his gaze away to comfort Vivi long enough for me to blink the building tears back from my eyes. “Aras felt he needed to be the one to tell Ingrid about your friend, Bates. I can’t say I understand anything about the situation, but he insisted that whatever occurred, it occurred on his watch. Out of respect for them both, he needed to let her know before she inquired about his well-being.”

  Ian’s eyes roam back to find my own, but I shy away from his heat, embarrassed to have been outdone by the ruthless guard of my father’s inner circle. Aras, of all people, stepping forward with a sense of honor when it’s clear that his master holds none. How is it that I could have forgotten Bates so easily? Did I not spend days haunted in the woods by his lost spirit, only to have let him go the moment I fell into my mother’s cool arms? The very arms that Bates was trying to protect.

  Oh, Bates. I’ve let you down. Even after your sacrifice, I’ve not learned what you needed me to understand. I’ve not honored your love for my mother.

  Beside me, Vivi’s light fingers squeeze onto my knee once more, forcing my chin to dip in her direction when all I want is to run and hide. Of all things, happiness lights her face, and the purest of hope stings her watery eyes. She sees this as a good thing, my sister. Her longing heart causes the valiant last words of our fallen friend to come tumbling back.

  Even the darkest night has light, he’d said. And maybe, just maybe, the Aras we know and love is fighting a battle we never dreamed was possible on his own. A battle he can win.

  “He’s coming back to us,” she says, squaring her shoulders against anyone who would dare believe any different.

  And because I can’t bring myself to let her down, I grin, saying the only thing my pounding heart longs to hear. “Yes, Vivi. Yes, he is.”

  Twenty-Six

  The food has nearly disappeared, served by the curiously chipper Theron staff, when we finally receive word that our mother won’t be joining us for the evening. I can’t say we expected her to come. The hour is late, and although I know she tries to put on the front of full recovery, there are only so many masks that can be worn when it comes to concealing matters of the heart. Mother cared for Bates as fiercely as I’m beginning to understand she cares for us all. I’m not sure what makes the situation worse. The fact that she didn’t hear about it from me, or that she heard it from the mouth of her lost son.

  I know the others can sense our sorrow. It’s hard to miss the tiny frowns that hover at the end of forced smiles. But to their credit, no one says a word, allowing us to enjoy a strained, yet oddly comfortable dinner. Talk has been light, steering clear of any mention of unfortunate crossings with our crazed father and the promised guard we long to have back by our sides. While I know Ian has to be uneasy after our sudden rise of hope for Aras’ soul, he doesn’t show it. If anything, he’s been as cool and calm as ever, seemingly content to simply have us by his side.

  I’d despise him for it if he weren’t so easy to look at.

  By the time the king and queen finally rise to excuse themselves, politely thanking us for the company and promising to meet again tomorrow, I’ve all but bitten through my lip, holding fast to the frantic pull to bolt and find my mother.

  And though I’d never speak it aloud, my Orien guard.

  “Take her to Mother,” Vivi demands as soon as our company has vanished, and it’s only the three of us left—fire, ice, and the fledgling who could rule them all. “I’ll go see after Aras.”

  “Vivi,” I start, grimacing when my voice sounds more strained than I intend.

  But it’s Ian who stuns me most, bursting with laughter and looking more alive and like himself than I’ve seen all evening. Belatedly, I register the relaxed slump of his shoulders, along with the wide grin that finally meets his eyes. It’s the most he’s been himself since we’ve entered this room. A funny sensation twists across my gut, pinching deep and pulling from within.

  Ian didn’t enjoy this dinner any more than we did, and like a fool preparing to cross my father, I’m dying to find out why.

  “I think I can manage that request.” He stands from his chair and raises his arms in a lengthy stretch. “But if you’re looking for Aras, you should start with Oliver, my father’s guard. He promised Aras a tour of the grounds, and goodness knows Aras was ready to poke holes in our most meager defenses.”

  His brows wag high at his words, causing a rise of my own in return. It’s no secret that Aras thinks Theron ill equipped to protect the Orien princesses. But it is interesting that Ian seems to know Aras’ whereabouts better than the said princesses he came to protect.

  It seems my husband-to-be is very skilled at keeping secrets of his own. Perhaps I’d feel bad if his wife-to-be wasn’t the same.

  “You’re quite resourceful, Ian,” I admit, gathering my cumbersome skirts and joining Vivi at the doors.

  Her green eyes find my own, a silent plea of understanding shining in the low torchlights. When I nod, she reaches out, pulling me into a tight hug. Then she kicks off her heels, grabbing them in her hands. She crumples her own skirt into an endearing knot and takes off at a run. I watch as an innocent worker suffers the unfortunate timing of coming down the stairs just as Vivi begins her plow up them. To his credit, I hardly notice the slight jump of his shoulders as my little sister demands to know where the king’s guard might be at this hour. The man hesitates, shooting a quick glance toward Ian as he strides to my side. When Ian waves in response, his posture loosens, and the lines of panic disappear from his pale face. As soon as he replies, Vivi’s off again, tackling the stairs like a silk, blue cat on all fours. I cover a laugh, but as any good and seasoned professional should do, he simply inclines his head in our direction and continues his walk down the stairs to wherever he was going.

  Is it me, or do all citizens of Theron hold a particular patience in their hearts for the deranged? If there had to be another kingdom vying for our blood, I suppose we should be thankful it’s here.

  “I must say, I never took Rogers for someone who could be so easily caught off guard. I do believe your
sister has proved me wrong.”

  Ian’s soft gaze pins me in place. His straight, brilliant teeth remind me of how perfect this boy truly is. Of how much I’ll never really deserve him, even if I were to tear my heart in two and give him the biggest piece.

  “Truthfully, I should also say I’m not surprised.” He grins, and my pulse sings. A jarring warning of this kind boy and his even kinder intentions. A boy with honeyed hair, green eyes, and a calming cool to settle my heat. A boy who wants me. Needs me. A boy who I need to quickly get away from, or he’ll take me, whether I’m ready or not.

  Ian’s hand reaches to clasp my own. Slowly at first, as if to test my stormy waters, before his fingers intertwine with mine, cooling my body with his touch. But this time, it’s not my magic that’s on fire.

  It’s my heart.

  “Ian,” I whisper, my horribly timid voice swallowed up by the empty room around us. It’s the first time we’ve been alone with each other since our time in the woods. I’m no fool to believe that much hasn’t changed since then. I fear he knows it, too.

  “Penelope,” he whispers back, but there is nothing weak or unsure in his voice. No, he is strength. Determination. Courage. And above all, he knows what he wants. His free hand cups my chin, and not a hint of knowing flashes in his eyes when I tremble beneath his soft touch.

  “Come, let’s go find your mother.”

  And because he is good, patient, and all things forgiving, we do.

  ↄ

  We find her under a blanket of stars, held tight and comforted within their endless depths. Her pure white gown waves around her in the soft wind, shifting with her mood as the lights above speak tiny secrets to her soul. Her mangled hair lies safely hidden under the hood of her matching cloak. Its pale cloth gleaming in the blackest night. Though I know she’d never believe me, it’s the most beautiful vision I’ve ever seen.

  Before Ian ever started leading me up the small set of stairs hidden on the top level of his massive home, my heart already felt the direction. The silent pull and warmth that is my mother. For I’d be lying if I said I’d never felt the strange call the stars hold on my spirit. But tonight, I recognize it for what it’s worth—the desperate plea of a mother’s love. And now that I know her, now that I’ve held her in my arms, I know I’ll never lose her again.

  When I finally turn to thank Ian, to assure him I’ll be fine on my own, I find he’s already gone. Another silent gesture from an all-too-willing prince, and I can’t help but wonder when I’ll stop being all too willing to pay the price.

  “It’s a beautiful night, Little Bird.”

  The words settle like a welcoming fog, coating my limbs with chills and tugging me forth on an invisible tether. My eyes dart around for the black shape that is to surely take up presence by her side, only to come up just as empty as my mother’s heart must feel.

  My papa, it seems, must have known she needed this time alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, all but crumbling when she turns with an outstretched arm, calling me into her cool chest.

  Her patched face looks down at me, the scars on her burned side pulling her smile at different angles, while the other side watches me with unabashed love, pride, and tenderness. Her good eye crinkles with thought as she takes me in, green as the stormy oceans and stronger, too.

  The mirror to my past.

  “Sorry is a word for those at fault, my Brave, and you are most certainly not.”

  I grimace at her soft words, spoken at a whisper, yet determined all the same. It makes me feel horrible for all of those times when I grumbled about her absence, as if her leaving made her love for me worth any less. If anything, it’s made her love even stronger, and from her obvious denial of my wrongdoing, maybe too much so.

  “You don’t have to do that.” I pull back from her embrace and place a warm hand over her covered cheek. “I understand my role in Bates’ death, just as surely as I understand my father’s. If I hadn’t sought him out… if I hadn’t pushed, perhaps he would still be alive today.”

  She smiles once more, but this time, it’s tinged with a hint of sadness and a more than knowing regret. Pulling my hand from her cheek, she wraps her arm around my shoulders once again and motions up to the listening stars. “I can’t blame you for your thinking; it’s the very same way I felt all of those years. Each and every time Knox would lay his cruel hand upon someone I loved, I’d worry myself sick with guilt. For days I wouldn’t sleep, replaying my actions over and over again in my mind until the right scenario finally won out. But then, one day, something changed.”

  My eyes flit down to her face, but she’s lost in a trance, tracing the stars back to a time when the desire to love was as dangerous as the desire to hate. When every action turned out wrong, no matter the size of the heart behind it all. Until one day, something finally turned out right. And I know, without a doubt, what that right must be.

  “I escaped,” I say, the words so soft they almost don’t cross my lips. But Mother’s response is immediate. She hears the words as if I’ve screamed them aloud, scattering the stars into a picture made just for me.

  For us.

  “You did.” She quiets, taking one last drink of the sky’s heavenly peace. Then she rises to her feet, pulling me along with her. “Although, I can’t help but feel like I’ve chained you down again. Except, this time, you’re stuck in another kingdom, and the links are wrapped firmly around your heart.”

  Her words cause a sharp sting to form within my eyes. I blink back the moisture, determined to hide the evidence of my complete and utter derailment so my selfless mother doesn’t see. Here she is, a broken shell of the strong and powerful woman she used to be, and yet she still worries for my heart. For my happiness, when all I long to see is hers.

  “Aras will come around, my Brave,” she continues, reaching up to wipe the traitorous tears from my cheeks. “I know you think he’s a lost cause… that your own magic isn’t strong enough to break the bonds Knox holds on his life, but that belief couldn’t be any further from the truth. Where there is magic, there is a will. And where there is a will, there is a way. Magic isn’t a matter of the mind; it is a matter of the heart. What you feel here,” she says, placing her hand over my chest, the coolness of her touch dousing the flames from within, “that’s what matters most. Don’t be afraid of it, my love. Trust it, hone it, and when the time is right, use it to bring our Aras home.”

  “If only it were so simple.” I take her hand into my own, leading her back toward the stairs and away from the watchful eyes of the stars. “Aras made the choice to accept Knox’s magic, so it stands to reason that he must also make the choice to give it up. Seeing as Knox currently controls Aras’ every desire, I don’t foresee him making any sane choices in the near future.”

  Mother sighs, twisting my braid between her fingers. “Emory raised you to be a smart girl, so let’s not pretend it’s above you to figure this out. You’ll find a way, Brave, and I’m not saying that because you’re my smart daughter. I’m saying it because I know you’ve inherited my stubborn nature. But enough about Aras and all things lost. I didn’t even ask, how was dinner?”

  Her question catches me off guard, and a startled laugh leaves my throat. “Kind, long, and excruciatingly polite. I don’t claim to know you very well, Mother, so you’ll have to forgive me when I say I think you would have hated it.”

  She smiles, a look so proud that even her scars can’t hide her glee. “On the contrary, my daughter, I think you already know me well enough.”

  Twenty-Seven

  By the time I make it back to my chambers, I’m nothing but a husk. A scraggily, broken girl playing dress up in a princess’ clothes. Mother’s words haunt me with each step, a continuous loop of confusion that only serves to depress me even more.

  You’ll find a way, Brave.

  And those words would bring comfort if I knew them to be true. But the trouble is, I don’t. I can’t. Mother says that magic is a way of the heart.
That it knows my motives and bends to their will. For weeks, I’ve been desperate to bring my Orien guard back, and for weeks, my magic has only burned, cooled, and spoken to a cat. There’s no way my magic can’t feel the bleeding ache of my heart. The daily twitch that sparks and burns from the inside out. The terrible longing that I fear may never be cured.

  I don’t want Aras; I need him. And my magic is the fool if it hasn’t noticed yet.

  “Vivi,” I call out as I walk into the darkened room, the only light from the single candle still lit by our bed.

  Rather than her usual chipper reply, I’m only met with silence. Odd, considering Vivi has never gone to bed without at least saying goodnight. She must be even more upset about Aras than I thought. Or else…

  “I spoke to Mother,” I try again, shamelessly falling back on the one subject I know will always catch her attention.

  This time when her words don’t fill the air, I think I know why.

  Pushing away from the door, I flip my achy shoes from my feet and pound my soles across the room, focusing in on the small lump that lies huddled on the far side of our rumpled covers. My eyes narrow in the waning light, the little candle all but burned through its wick, but it’s still enough for me to see what’s hiding in my bed. Or more importantly, what’s not.

  When I rip the covers back in a flourish, my eyes don’t disappoint when they land on the two pillows lined in a neat row along the edge of the bed. Their jumbled mess has nothing on the human form, but it’s not something I don’t know from all the times I tried to pull this same trick on Darcy.