Page 122 of The Reaping Rose

Chapter 41

Elorie

The inn bustles today, louder than it has been since we first arrived. A new group of travelers is passing through, and the ceiling rattles with their footsteps as they move back and forth. My gaze follows the creaks above my head as I will them to be quiet.

Below our room is another group constantly chattering. I can’t make out what they’re saying with my dulled senses, but every so often, Perame glances down and chuckles, so I assume she isn’t struggling to pick up on the conversation like I am.

Perame, Callum, and I rotate who takes trips into town, usually traveling only in a group when necessary because it draws more attention. Tonight was Callum’s turn. He left before the sun set, and he’s yet to come back. There’s a distance in his eyes lately. Something that weighs heavier than it did when we were in Quietus.

Even when we’re sharing a room, he rarely speaks of anything but our plans, and I can’t help but worry about my friend. It’s always been difficult to navigate the walls he keeps up around himself, but lately, it’s become even more so.

Shortly after he left, I went and found dinner for Perame and me. Her hood hides her ears, but her unique purple eyes draw attention, so it’s better if I go when direct interaction is required.

As I returned with food, the innkeeper stopped me to ask about Callum.

He’s as popular with the women here as he was in the village, so I shouldn’t be surprised. But just like then, he doesn’t show them an ounce of attention. I wonder why—I’ve gone as far as to ask—but Callum brushed it off without answering.

Even so, I indulged the innkeeper in a few moments of conversation, casually bringing up the parade to see if she heard anything new about the overlord. Like many others, she’s kept her distance because of Esen, so she didn’t know much about the cursed girl, as she called her.

I don’t know Esen, but my heart breaks for her. To be outcast for the mark on her face and the destruction the humans think she brings to their realm must be isolating. They know nothing of the void, but they judge her based on what they fear because of the dark veins on her face.

Perame and I still haven’t figured out how we’re going to convince Esen to return with us to Vaelier. She made it clear she has no interest in helping, and Perame said that simply touching Esen’s illusion was a shock to her magic in a way she’d never felt. We won’t be able to force her to come with us, which means we need to find a way to convince her—to help her understand.

Except, this is her home. Dying, but known. Why would she leave to help us save our realm when hers struggles? What if she has a family she’s protecting?

I turn the page even though I haven’t read a word.

“Mine isn’t much better.” Perame frowns at her book. “Humans find these stories interesting? They hardly seem accurate.”

“That’s not the point. If you want something historical, go back to the journals.” I point at the stack of them on a side table, and she frowns. “These are for the romance. I’m surprised you’re not enjoying it with all the time you’ve been spending with Seren lately.”

“You noticed.” She frowns, and my smile falls.

“I didn’t realize I shouldn’t.”

“It’s not that.” She sighs. “It’s the rumors. They’re endless. Ruthless. Why is it my brother can bed half the court, and I’m the one they whisper about?”

“Because no matter what realm we’re in, females are held to different rules, apparently.”

Growing up, the women in the village were chastised for the slightest bit of promiscuity, while men were celebrated for it. We were all dying on that island. Cold and lonely. But only men could get away with distracting themselves in others’ beds without being whispered about. I knew it too well when I opted for occasional company over relationships. Gods forbid a single female enjoy herself.

“Hypocrites,” Perame grumbles. “Seren is amazing, but she hasn’t appreciated the stories already swirling around about my exes.”

“She can’t possibly expect you to have been celibate before her?”

“She doesn’t. But knowing my history and hearing about it aren’t the same. You get it, don’t you? I’ve tried to tell Atlas to think before he speaks, but he forgets that not everyone appreciates his jokes. It’s an old habit for him to give Wilder a hard time, but it’s all in the past.”

“I know it is,” I say honestly. “I’m not naive. Wilder lived entire lifetimes before I was born. It’s unfair to wish he had spent all those years alone. I wouldn’t want that for one human lifetime, much less the six or seven he lived before me. Do I want to think about who occupied his time? No. But before Wilder came into my life, I had my own fun. None of it compared to him. He’s made it clear he feels the same. All that matters is what we have with each other. Surely, Seren must understand.”

“Not all humans are that understanding.” Perame pinches the bridge of her nose. “And the argument of immortality didn’t help in my case anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because she pointed out that in a blink of my life, she’ll grow old and die.”

I frown, my stomach churning.

“Sorry.” Perame winces. “I didn’t think—I don’t know how immortality works with the half-Fae.”