Page 17 of The Reaping Rose

I glance at Greer, who is covered in mud and some kind of tar-like blood. She shrugs, which makes me snort out another laugh.

“I give up.” Callum turns and walks away while Greer chuckles alongside me.

He’s right; it isn’t funny. None of this is funny when today’s battle is proof we’re probably seeing the end of the realm. But if I don’t laugh, I’ll scream or cry. So why resist if this is how the onslaught of battling emotions bursts out of me?

“I need a drink.” I shrug off my weapons.

There are fewer now, with the sheath that held my mother’s sword now empty. Greer and I tried to pull it free from the dirt after the vein closed, but it wouldn’t budge. It remains a beacon, buried and marking the spot the Well tore through the island.

“You need a bath before a drink.” Letia’s nose scrunches as she attempts to help us with our things.

Callum keeps his back turned to us, staring at the fire while Greer and I strip down to our undergarments at the threshold. Letia won’t let us a step farther until she’s gathered all our filthy leathers.

I undo my braids, but they’re matted with dirt and something sticky, making it impossible to untangle. Letia’s right; I’m a mess. Stinking up the house, at that. So I take her advice and head upstairs, Greer right behind me.

We wash the best we can in a basin of lukewarm water. Greer is first, and then I take a turn. The water is ice cold in moments, even with Letia bringing fresh buckets she warmed by the fire. Nothing holds heat here, and this bath is nothing like those in the Ley Court, where the water smelled of lavender and never grew cold.

My teeth didn’t chatter as they do now.

Once I’m mostly clean, I slip into my thickest sleep dress and join the rest of the group downstairs. Callum’s eyes are on me as I reach the last step. Even considering his constant lecturing, there’s so much he isn’t saying lately. We’ve never been closer, physically living under the same roof, and yet, we’ve never been more distant.

“Wine as promised.” Letia hands me a glass.

The first sip is acidic, nearly undrinkable. But after today’s fight, I ignore it and take another.

“Letia was just telling me about her mysterious savior.” Greer smirks when I join the two of them at the table.

She leans back in her chair, sipping a beer, while Callum keeps his distance, sticking to the fire across the room.

“You hadn’t heard that story?” I ask, and Greer shakes her head.

“It’s nothing.” Letia rolls her eyes. “Elorie thinks he was a figment of my imagination.”

“All I know is that he was Fae, but he wasn’t part of the Crown Guard, which doesn’t make sense.”

“The Guard are the only Fae who would have been allowed on Alyssium. Malachi’s orders.” Greer frowns, glancing up as shingles rattle. “Elorie might be right. No offense.”

“I promise he was real, whoever he was. Maybe he wasn’t Fae at all. Maybe he was my guardian angel.” Letia rolls her shoulders back, as optimistic as ever.

Greer shakes her head. “There’s no such thing as angels.”

“There are gods,” I argue. “And mortal texts make many mentions of angels.”

“Mortals make mentions of many things with little understanding of what exists beyond their realm. They also speak of humans who can transform into giant dogs.”

“Werewolves,” I correct her.

Greer rolls her eyes. “Before the Collision, I traveled to a number of nearby realms with my parents, smoothing relations for the Crown. There were no hints of angels or werewolves or half the other creatures the mortal texts fantasize over.”

“Look at you ruining all our childhood fairy tales,” I say to Greer, nudging Letia’s arm while she chuckles.

“Well, whoever he was. He was my angel.” Letia sighs.

“A mighty beautiful one apparently.” Greer winks, and Letia’s cheeks rush pink. “Gods, what I wouldn’t give for a beautiful distraction right now.”

“There aren’t many options around here.” My gaze slides to Callum, who has stopped paying attention to us. “Unless…”

Callum towers over the fire, with a large palm pressed to the wall. Flames wash his tan skin in a warm glow. Growing up, there wasn’t a girl on the island who didn’t chase after him. Not that he showed interest in any of them.