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“I appreciate the thought, but I’m not uncomfortable.” I smiled at the truth of those words. The weight of the names no longer dragged along my skin. My shoulders felt light without the secret. I doubted there could be anything that would make me uncomfortable around him again.
We didn’t stop until we reached the canal to Koratha. Or what was left of it. The stone walls had been pummeled in the flash flood. The packed dirt the Mortals had used to fill the river had given way. Large patches of earth floated downstream accompanied by pieces of broken docks and barges that didn’t survive the flood. The river had returned to its former glory, broken out of the shell the king had forced it into. Flowing to the sea once again
I hoped the same had happened on the other two canals. Not only because it meant our plan had worked, but because I couldn’t ignore the beauty of water as it flowed; the memory of the land returning and reclaiming what was once its own.
We stalked along the riverbed as we traveled. It was midday when we reached the dilapidated port. Its paint had faded from red to gray and nothing had been done to fix the leaking roof. The building rested on a high cliff edge along what was once the canal. Its dock had washed away in the flood, but there were two grounded barges set beside the building. I bartered with the owner, an old man who slumped over the counter in despair. He had lost three barges and their shipments in the floods.
I tossed him a large sack of coin and asked if he would take us downriver on one of the small vessels. His hands shook as he held the money, his red eyes burning with tears. “I don’t know how far I can take you,” he said between his whimpers. “There are blockages toward Silstra. It may be the same heading east.”
“Take us as far as you can,” I said, leaving him to ready the boat.
Riven and I returned at dusk and the man directed us below deck. We drifted down the river on a small barge that smelled of teas and spices. There was one hammock for us to share. Riven offered to sleep on the floor, but I refused. The hammock was big enough for the both of us and the floor of the barge was damp. By the time we reached the city, it would leak.
Riven reluctantly agreed, slipping in beside me, careful not to touch my scars. We fell asleep back to back, but when I woke my head rested on Riven’s chest and his arms were wrapped around me. I froze against him; it had been so long since I had slept so closely with someone. Riven sensed the shift in his sleep, his arms pulling me tighter against his chest and his hand stroking my back. I breathed in his scent, letting the birchwood and dew envelop me. I closed my eyes, relishing Riven’s warmth.
But there was something else. That same feeling that sparked between us when we fought as Blade and Shadow. The electric pull that never faded. In the quiet of the barge, with only the hum of flowing water, I felt it again. A pull I didn’t know how to explain but knew was there.
I wondered if he could feel it too.
As if he heard my thoughts, Riven’s eyes fluttered open. He yawned, running his hand over his chest and feeling my own there. He looked down, eyes widening as he realized how entangled we had become. The smallest grin ran across his face. “Good morning,” he said, his voice was hoarse with sleep.
“It’s not morning,” I whispered. The captain had given me an eight-hour candle to mark the time—it still shone, only halfway through its wick. Dawn was hours away.
Minutes passed as I listened to the beat of Riven’s heart inside his chest. At some point, he started stroking my hair. I leaned into the small moment of peace we were giving ourselves. It could very well be the last one we had to enjoy. The capital would be overflowing with guards and Shades hunting for clues. Looking for the culprits. And we were going to walk into the capital right under their noses.
I glanced up at Riven, his high cheeks glowed in the dim light from the candle. His eyes stared unfocused along the rafters of the barge. For the first time since I’d woken in that pool, I realized that I was glad I didn’t die. I would do anything to liberate the Halflings and end the king. I would lay my life down again if I had to, but I was pleased that I had another shot to see it through. I had never thought ofafterbefore. I’d always pictured the king’s death tied to my own.
Maybe that was still true, but maybe it wasn’t.
“What happens after?” I asked Riven, tilting my head toward him. “When the Crown is gone, who will lead Elverath? The Dark Fae? You?” I had never pictured that future before. It had always felt like a dream, so I’d never let myself linger on a fool’s hope. That night at the dam, it had felt like a future that didn’t belong to me. A future I didn’t deserve.
Now? I didn’t know what the future was or what it would feel like, but I was curious.
Riven stopped stroking my hair and was silent for a long while. “No, not me,” Riven said, a slight edge in his voice. “I’m sure the Fae would help rebuild a system of governance, though I don’t think they would want to rule it.”
I nestled my head against his chest. “Didn’t they rule the lands before?”
“No,” Riven said, his fingers twirling a strand of my hair. “Before the Mortals came, before Aemon conquered and sealed his rule, the Elverin governed by council. Light Fae, Dark Fae, and Elves altogether. There were representatives from each of the territories and all the clans... I think that would be the best for Elverath too. A council representing each of the peoples left on her lands. Fae, Elves, and Halflings.”
“Shared rule?” I pondered the idea. How different would the world look if more people had a voice in decisions? How different would it be for the Halflings who were considered nothing more than property under the king’s law? My chest tightened at the idea. A continent where no one had to hide themselves or pretend their blood was a different color.
“It would be a beautiful thing to see,” I said against his chest.
Riven pushed a stray lock of hair out of my face and I looked up at him, leaning into his touch. His eyes were dark in the dim light, swimming with something he wasn’t saying.
“Just ask,” I whispered, not breaking away from his gaze. His expressions were getting easier to read.
“I’m not sure I should,” he said, his mouth set in a straight line.
“I don’t know anything about my parents,” I replied, raising a brow. “And I’m not sold on Rheih’s theory.”
Riven chuckled, his breath warming the crest of my cheek. “I’m not sure I am either. I’ll have to ask Feron when we return to theFaelinth.” He tucked a finger under my chin, pulling my gaze to his. “That’s not what I wanted to ask,” he whispered. His eyes were soft. The hand on my face gentle, testing.
I froze. If it wasn’t about my lineage, there was only one thing he would be reluctant to bring up. His hand stroked my back, his fingers tracing along the thick ridges of the scars. My jaw snapped shut, but I didn’t stop him. Sharing the names with him had alleviated part of the burden I carried. Maybe sharing another story would do the same.
“These scars are different,” he said, biting his lip. “Than the names, I mean.”
I nodded, swallowing to loosen the tightness at my throat. It didn’t work.
