Page 3 of The Reaping Rose

Deep in my belly, my magic stirs, as desperate as I am for it to spring to my fingertips and help us. Only, I can’t reach it on this dead island.

Greer and I slip into the edge of the forest. The tree cover offers little protection from the wind. It whispers through the branches. Batters against exposed skin as if the storm is trying to pull us back. My cloak snags, and I whip out a dagger, slicing the fabric. There’s no time to stop and untangle it.

“Keep them open!” Greer shouts when we reach the edge of the forest, and the village gates come into view.

Callum is standing, waiting for us, dressed in Crown Guard armor, even though he is no longer one of them. His polished breastplate and pauldrons are a silver beacon of steel in the descending night. A symbol of the people he once fought for. Callum’s chin-length dark hair whips at his jaw. His pale-gray eyes set on us as we run toward him.

“There you are.” Irritation bleeds through his tone as we rush through the gates. He slams them closed the moment we’re through. “Letia said you went for a walk.”

Of course she did.

Letia and I have been best friends since birth, so it’s second nature to lie for each other. And since Callum doesn’t want me wandering the island, Letia wouldn’t have told him I was at the beach training with Greer.

“You know how quickly the weather’s been changing lately. You shouldn’t be out there.” He bristles beside me.

I roll my eyes, bracing for the onslaught of lectures I’m about to face.

It’s not that I don’t understand the danger of exploring the island when the elements shift on a whim lately, but what’s the point of any of this if we stop fighting? If we stop living?

I glance at Greer, finding her already narrowing her eyes at Callum. “Elorie was fine. She was with me.”

“Even if I wasn’t, I’m capable of taking care of myself. Or have you forgotten?” I glare up at him.

Callum spent two decades keeping my Fae heritage a secret and protecting me as a promise to my father, so I understand why he’s struggling to let that go. But I’m not the fragile human girl who spent twenty-four years not knowing the depths of my strength. I’m half-Fae—a celestial Fae at that—wielding the magic of the goddess of creation, Voilene. I can defend myself.

Callum stops, spinning me to face him. “I haven’t forgotten a thing, Elorie. But we don’t know what comes next. If your magic is tied to the heart of this realm, it needs to be protected. You need to be protected.”

“Protecting my magic does us no good if the realm swallows us whole before we get the chance to do anything about it,” I argue. “We need to reconsider⁠—”

“No.” He cuts me off like he does every time I try to bring up our only solution.

I pull my arm from his grasp. “We’re out of time, Callum. Just because you don’t like what needs to be done doesn’t mean it isn’t necessary. If someone was going to come help, they would have by now. It’s up to us to fix this, and to do so, we need answers. There’s only one place we haven’t looked yet.”

Callum grumbles, hanging back as Greer and I forge ahead.

Shingles fly off roofs as we walk through the heart of the village, stopping at the small alcove that is mostly protected by the surrounding buildings.

There are fewer than twenty humans left on Alyssium, and we’ve crammed into these seven houses to weather this out as long as we can. Callum, Greer, and I share Letia’s home with her. Cramped but together. The others are split between the remaining houses.

I reach for the door handle, but it swings open before my hand meets the knob. Letia’s golden-blonde hair whips around her shoulders as she pulls her cloak tighter. Her sapphire-blue eyes quickly survey the group. Her skin has been paler these past few weeks, apart from the rosy glow of her wind-chapped cheeks.

“She was outside the gates,” Callum shouts, his voice barely reaching her as a gust rips through the square.

“Was she?” Letia’s eyebrows pinch in mock confusion, and I chuckle at how loyal she is, pretending she has no idea what he’s talking about.

He mumbles something in response, but it’s carried away by the wind.

Once we’re inside, Letia returns to the stove. Cooking keeps her busy, so more often than not, she’s preparing food while Callum, Greer, and I come and go.

Greer and I strip off our outer layers and hang them on the hooks inside the door. The levity of arguing with Callum has vanished, and Greer’s silence is palpable as she moves through the room. She’s become a phantom of herself since leaving the Ley Court. Slowly fading before us since learning the truth about her parents’ deaths at the Rite of Blood ceremony.

For years, she served as part of Malachi’s Crown Guard out of vengeance for their murders, only to find out Malachi was the one who ordered her parents to be tortured and killed. I can’t imagine how that haunts her now.

It’s why, even as Callum stands in his silver Guard armor before us, she refuses to wear it, opting for leathers like me.

Greer drops into a chair by the fire, peeling off her boots. We’re all broken versions of who we were before that night. I fear that there might be no putting this back together.

Leaving Greer to her thoughts, I take a seat at the table, opposite Callum. We’ve been arguing for months now, and while I understand the inherent danger in my plan, there’s no more avoiding what needs to be done.