His chair tipped, caught, then scraped back as he stalked away. A door slammed, the sound splintering through the house like a crack in stone.
Silence pressed in. My pulse thundered in my throat. I forced a breath. “He’ll be okay,” I said, though the words felt hollow the moment they left me.
Malachi’s gaze held mine across the table, gold steady, unreadable. “Are you sure about this choice?”
I barked a laugh with no humor in it. “What choice do I have?”
Lysara’s voice was quiet, but it cut. “There is always a choice.”
My chest ached. “You didn’t hear him,” I said, sharper than I meant. “Draven stood in the square today and told me exactly what he promised Aeryn. A quiet mind. An end to the noise. He made it sound like mercy, and Aeryn believed him.”
The words tumbled out, ragged, unvarnished. “That’s what he offered—peace at the cost of himself. Aeryn thinks surrender will save him. He thinks the altar is a way out. But I know better. It’s a leash. It’s their way of binding him, turning the Moirae line into another weapon for their games.”
I pressed my palms flat to the table, leaning into the grain. “So yes, I’ve already chosen. We leave tomorrow. Because my solution is better than his. It has to be.”
None of us answered. The sea outside pressed against the walls, endless and indifferent.
I searched the faces around the table, each carrying their own wounds, their own fears. For one fleeting moment, I let myself believe we could still hold together long enough to see this through.
Even as the sun dipped below the edge of the cliffs, setting everything gold and bruised. Even as Gabriel met my gaze from across the table, something knowing and mournful in his eyes. Even as I felt, deep in my chest, the shape of goodbye beginning to form.
But tonight, we were whole.
And tonight, we were home.
58
Aurelia
The night endedas it began—quietly.
I opened the guest rooms that hadn’t been touched in years, pulling white sheets from furniture, shaking dust from old frames. We had never expected to stay long in Synnex, but I didn’t want the others to feel like intruders. I wanted them to feel that even here they had a place to rest. To feel at home.
Lysara’s room was readied first. She paused in the doorway, her pale eyes soft as she touched my arm. “Thank you, Aurelia. For welcoming us into your home.”
The words caught me off guard. So simple, but they warmed a part of me I hadn’t realized was cold. I squeezed her hand before she disappeared into the room.
Santiago lingered. He stood awkwardly in the hallway, glass still in hand, his usual sharp tongue strangely muted. “I should… apologize,” he said at last. “For my father. For everything.” His jaw clenched, then eased. “Lysara told me you knew—about him. About me. And still you didn’t treat me any differently. Why?”
I hesitated. My mind reached for Eryndis’s words: the thornswe inherit prick, they make us bleed, but we can decide to mend the wound or let it take over. I thought of every sideways glance, every whisper, every door that had closed to Aeryn and me because of our name. “I’ve been an outcast most of my life for who I am. For something I had no control of. How could I judge you for the same?”
His eyes glistened faintly, though he covered it with a crooked half-smile. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened, then returned the embrace.
“Gods,” he muttered into my hair, voice muffled, “a bird really could nest in here.”
I let out a startled laugh and swatted his arm.
He grinned, satisfied. “Good night, Aurelia.” With a small nod, he followed Lysara into the room.
When the hall went still again, I made my way to Aeryn’s door.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his thighs, boots half-untied, staring at the floor. He looked mostly whole, like he was holding the pieces of himself together with sheer force.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I said softly, stepping inside. “I know you’re still struggling. There’s another way, Aeryn. You don’t have to go through with the patron ceremony. Just… come back with me to Nyxarra.”
His head lifted, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Why?”
I hesitated. Embarrassment prickled, but I forced the words. “The king is going to help us. He promised me what we need. And… I hear the bride he’s chosen is quite beautiful.” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but the weight in the air flattened it.