My hands went cold.Two days.We could leave before then. Head back to Nyxarra. We had time.
The sea drank the last of the light. I felt hollowed in my chest, a small cinder of dread growing into a predictable flame.
When we reached the house, Santiago and Lysara were already on the porch, a half-empty glass of wine in Santi’s hand. “Ah, another Moirae,” Santiago said, lifting the glass in greeting. “Do they grow you in tidepools or just raise you on cliffs?”
Aeryn slowed, his arm still hooked tight around my shoulders. His eyes flicked over them, then past to the shadows beyond the doorway where Gabriel leaned. Too many strangers. Too many eyes in his home.
His jaw tightened. “Who are all these people?” His voice was rough, edged with the kind of exhaustion that had nothing to do with work.
“They’re with me,” I said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. “Friends.”
He didn’t answer, but the look he gave me—half-question, half-accusation—was enough.
Inside, warmth pressed close. Candlelight, the scent of garlic and rosemary, mismatched chairs pulled around a table bright with sea glass and wildflowers.
Malachi stepped forward from the shadows, his presence grounding the room. He fixed his gaze on my brother. “You must be Aeryn. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He extended his hand.
Aeryn looked at it, then at him. Malachi’s palm hovered a beat longer before he let it drop, resting instead at the small of my back. Aeryn’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Malachi. “And I’ve heard nothing about you.”
The tension pricked sharp enough to sting. I gave a small, nervous laugh, rubbing at my temple. “Malachi—this is my brother, Aeryn. Aeryn, this is Malachi Dravaryn. He’s been… helping me.”
Aeryn’s gaze lingered on Malachi’s hand at my back before he finally gave a short nod.
Santiago, determined to cut through the air, set down his glass and ducked into the cellar. He emerged a moment later with a dusty bottle in hand, grinning like he’d unearthed treasure. “Fate provides,” he declared, brushing cobwebs from the cork. “See? Proof the gods love us.”
“How old is that?” Gabriel muttered, eyeing the bottle.
“Younger than you,” I said with a wink, tugging Aeryn further inside before he could retreat.
“Oh, in that case, it may have gone bad centuries ago,” Santi called from the kitchen as he hunted for cups. “Perfect vintage for a reunion.”
Gabriel didn’t look up. “Or poison.”
The room went still. We all stared at him.
He lifted a shoulder, finally glancing between us. “That was a joke,” he said flatly, as if it should have been obvious.
We feasted. Aeryn leaned into the light, his shoulders loosening as he listened. He even laughed at Santi’s stories, endured his pestering of Lysara, and managed to tease Gabriel until the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile. Lysara rolled her eyes at Santi’s dramatics but passed him bread anyway. Gabriel muttered something sharp that made Santiago splutter wine across the table. Even Malachi laughed when Aeryn pushed another joke too far. For a little while, the house sounded the way it should have—laughter spilling between bites, the kind of noise that stitched people together. How I imagined life should be lived.
Between courses, I glanced toward the door. “Where’s Hayat? Has anyone seen him?”
Silence answered me. Santiago shook his head. “Didn’t see him on the way back.” Lysara frowned faintly. Gabriel only shrugged.
Malachi set his cup down. “He must still be in the village.” His tone was calm, but he must have sensed the edge in me.
Aeryn gave a small shrug, eyes dropping to his plate. “He comes back late most nights. Busier lately, with the patron ceremony coming up.”
The moment slipped past unanswered.
I wasn’t worried, just wished he was there. The things I’d learned in the village pressed too sharp against my thoughts, and I wasn’t sure they were safe to carry. So, I shoved them behind the wall I’d carefully crafted over the years. He was still Hayat. Still my friend. That had to be enough.
My attention shifted to Aeryn. The way his hand trembled when he lifted his cup, how his eyes darted away when someone looked at him too long. The cracks were still there. And I couldn’t let them widen. I set my cup down. “We can’t stay here,” I said, louder than I meant to. “We leave tomorrow.”
Aeryn’s head snapped toward me, eyes raw. “Leave? This is my home. Everything I know is here.” His voice shook, halfway between plea and fury.
“If you stay, the ceremony will claim you. I have a plan,” I said. “I won’t let that happen.”
He shoved back from the table hard enough to rattle the cups. “You won’t let it? Do you hear yourself? I’m not a child anymore, Elli.”