Page 201 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

MINTED

MAGNOLIA

When I could no longer stomach Lana’s absolute certainty that Alvara had somehow betrayed them, I took to wandering Bellpost’s halls.

Not that I could begrudge her bitterness. I was no stranger to laying blame at the feet of people who didn’t deserve it.

If Alvara had hidden her reasons for sparing Adrastos, that choice had likely influenced the path to Ansel’s death. It was just…

Aren’s words looped endlessly through my mind, and the guilt of them sat unbearably heavy. She’d done it for us. So Aren would live. The great Seer of the North had sacrificed herself—made herself the prize Adrastos needed—to pay the price for me dragging my love back through the veil.

There was no repaying a gift like that.

Even if she’d lied about her connection to Adrastos, there was no repaying what she’d given us.

Which was how I ended up here, staring in awe at what could only have been Bellpost’s kitchen.

Or maybe my inexplicable dizzy spell last night—my still-spinning head and weak knees—had simply driven me in search of food.

Unlike the grand halls we’d found, the ceilings here were low by a soul’s standards, the furniture beautifully preserved beneath the enchantments. A well-worn wooden table sat at the center like an island, counters ringing the perimeter around a massive hearth. I trailed my fingers over the dark grain, and my stomach growled. As if answering, a basket of bread materialized on the table.

Just like Hazelharbor, the hierarchy’s magic provided.

An astonished breath whooshed out behind me. I whirled to find Aren ducking beneath the threshold, nearly folding himself in half. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth as he eyed the ceiling.

“I thought we were getting smaller as time passed, but… I guess I just forgot,” he chuckled, reaching up to run a hand over the cob. “God, this is a blast from the past. Literally.”

“The guys made this place sound uninhabitable, but…” I gestured at the basket. “The magic still works.”

“She must like you.”

“And she doesn’t like her own kin?”

“Based on what you’ve told me, I’m not sure they qualify as a clan anymore.”

“She kicked them out for their betrayal?”

He nodded, staring wistfully at the empty hearth, a massive cauldron tipped on its side. “Intention matters with wards. Given the opportunity, I’d defend her and her people. I’m sure you’re the same.”

I ran my fingers over the boule and sucked down a breath. The bread radiated warmth, the smell alone enough to make my mouth water. After a week of jerky and dried fruit, it was practically orgasmic. “Don’t even get me started.”

“Case in point,” he said proudly.

“You think we can trust it? The food, I mean.”

“Can she trust you?” His smirk said he already knew the answer. I grabbed a loaf and nearly sighed at the warm weight in my palms, clutching it to my chest. Tears sprang to my eyes as the savory aroma flooded my senses, and I silently thanked the magic—thanked Rhiannon—for the gift.

As if in response, fire burst to life in the hearth. I stumbled back as Aren knelt beside it.

“How’s that for an answer?” He rose and closed the distance. Aren cupped my face in his broad palms, a quiet reverence chipping at the walls he’d kept between us these last weeks. My awe belonged to the strange wonder of this abandoned, liminal place. His belonged entirely to me. Like he still couldn’t believe I was standing here. “What haunts you, dove?”

I wet my lips, already hating the words that would ruin whatever peace he’d found in my company. “I’ve made yet another shit choice.” Because there could never be secrets between us again. Secrets were how we’d ended up buried beneath this mountain of trouble in the first place.

I should’ve told him about the Bond. About who I shared it with.

Should’ve told him how badly it scared me every time he triggered that jolt of elation with one of his claimings.

There should’ve been no stone left unturned between us, but I’d buried my fear beneath Aren’s certainty—beneath the peace that always came with him.