“You held your own, she-elf,” Fenn insisted, brows crowding together as he hunched over, peering into his tea. “You commanded the snows and bought us time to flee.”
Serenna fanned her gaze toward him. Fenn idly tilted his cup, rotating the liquid around the rim. Seeming to feel her attention, he lifted his eyes, meeting hers.
“If I wasn’t scared, if I’d acted sooner, the humans might still be alive.” Serenna’s hands trembled against the porcelain. “I could’ve done something.”
At odds with all of his piercings, Fenn’s face softened. “Regrets will dine on your mind if you invite them in. There’s a lesson in sorrow, but don’t allow your perceived failures to consume your thoughts.” Fenn shook his head, rings glittering in the firelight. “Never would I have expected a display like today.” The cup creaked when his claws flexed over the mug, knuckles leeching their color. “The reavers had no reason to slaughter those humans. It…wasn’t right.”
Serenna chewed her lip, reflecting on his words. He wasn’t callous—the reavers’ barbarity affected him too. The shared grief cracked open a tiny window of hope that they could somehow work together to prevent more death from occurring. Maybe Fenn would be willing to talk to Kal and Aesar. Since Lykor refuses to see reason.
Embracing the cup, Serenna’s hands soaked in the only warmth in a world gone cold. Sipping at her tea, lavender and mint bloomed on her tongue, accompanied by an earthy flavor.
“What kind of tea is this?” she asked, interrupting the heavy silence.
Fenn tensed before his gaze fell to the liquid’s golden surface. “It’s a blend my mother used to brew.”
Used to. Serenna’s heart twisted, the words hanging between them like the steam coiling above the mugs. Holding the tea to her chest, she inhaled the aroma.
“What…” she hesitated, unsure if he’d want to share something so personal with her. “What happened to your mother?”
Fenn scraped a talon around the rim of his teacup. “She didn’t return from your floating island. Along with two of my sisters.”
Stomach sinking, Serenna’s eyes fell to the counter as she scrubbed away stray tears. All of this strife is so pointless.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, resisting the urge to reach out, clenching her cup instead. Someone strong like him doesn’t need comfort. Serenna studied him out of the corner of her eye. Fortifying herself with a deep breath, she reconsidered. That might not be true.
Pulse ricocheting around her chest, Serenna touched Fenn’s arm before questioning the action any further. His skin almost dispensed more heat than the mug. He relaxed, muscles slackening on the table.
“You’re not the only one living with guilt,” Fenn said, his words softer than snowfall, hardly audible over the popping fire. “I should’ve fought alongside my clan that night, but I had something to prove, wanting to lead my own squadron.” His shoulders curved in, regret shadowing his face. “Taryn and the reavers blame Lykor for the failed assault. For the dead.” Fenn’s forearm stiffened under Serenna’s hand, claws resting on the table curling into fists. “In a way, I lost her that night too, when she joined them. Countless friends—most of my generation—have banded with Larek, forsaking their own clans in favor of his ruthlessness.”
“But Lykor has Essence,” Serenna pointed out, studying her elongated fingers on Fenn's arm. “The reavers can’t do anything to challenge him.” Her attention whipped to Fenn when she felt him watching her. Adrift in a sea of awkwardness that she’d inflicted upon herself with her lingering touch, Serenna jerked her hand back.
“One golden crossbow bolt would stifle Lykor’s magics,” Fenn said, angling toward her. “But the reavers still need him. They’re stranded in this fortress without his portals. It would take weeks of travel across the mountains to reach any of the mortal realms—if they even survived the journey. Last night at the Lagoon I heard…” Fenn’s eyes flared, glowing like flames. “If the reavers claim you, they’ll force you to use your earthen magics to navigate the wilds without Lykor.” His mouth twisted into a grimace. “It’s my fault they know of it. I let what happened in the war room slip to someone I thought I could trust. I—I’m sorry.”
A knot of unease tangled in Serenna’s gut as they stared at each other in silence. That’s not exactly what I had in mind for escaping the stronghold. “Lykor wants the same of me, but I don’t see what I could possibly do on such a journey.”
“The world bowed to you today, did it not?” Fenn’s attention flicked to the smoldering coals, as if only now recalling Lykor’s order to keep her away from fire. “I’ve witnessed you twisting the winds and sundering the snows. If your magics are capable of melting a passage across the tundra or bolstering flames without kindling, that could be the difference between life and death in the Wastes.” Extending a claw, Fenn grazed the shackle on her wrist. “You possess a gift that we do not.” His words weren’t bitter, but they carried a tinge of remorse. “You’re not the only one who regrets not saving lives today.”
Serenna wondered if those like Fenn—born as wraith instead of transformed by the king—had a Well capable of holding power. Recalling a conversation with Jassyn, she assumed the druids’ curse would’ve prevented Fenn’s parents from conceiving if they’d remained pure-blooded elves.
Serenna’s heart pinched at the thought. The balance of life restored after so much had been stolen still seemed unjust.
The gloomy reality of the wraith’s origins clouded Serenna’s mood further. “What if we could bring an end to our people killing each other?” she dared to ask.
Fenn slid a talon into a crack in the counter, plucking at the wood. “I don’t see how that would be possible.”
Serenna probed, hoping desperation didn’t flood her voice. “What if I could tell those at Centarya the truth?”
“And go back to your island with our location?” Fenn grunted, dislodging a splinter. “Lykor wouldn’t stand for that—or portal you there.” Shoulders sinking, he shook his head. “Would they even believe you?”
Serenna held her tongue, fearing Fenn wouldn’t keep her secret if she divulged her bond with Vesryn.
“It would be too much of a risk,” Fenn continued more strongly, as if convincing himself. “I think the wraith are destined to brave the world alone. Lykor will find us a safe place. Away from the elves.”
“But what if you didn’t have to hide?” Serenna swirled the dregs of tea, gently prodding. As loyal as Fenn is to Lykor, surely he can see that the world doesn’t have to be this way. “The wraith and the elven-blooded could unite and stand against the king. We could stop him from stealing power and put an end to all of this meaningless fighting.”
Fenn grew pensive, picking at his claws. “I don’t disagree with you, but it’s an impossible path.”
Deciding against hounding Fenn with her wishful thinking, Serenna grew quiet, saving that battle for another day. Perhaps in time, she could kindle that spark of agreement flickering in his eyes.
Shoving back from the table, Fenn swiveled off his stool and rose. “Come on, she-elf. I want to show you something.”
Leaving her empty mug, Serenna sighed. In the meantime, she didn’t have anything else to do aside from following him around.
“Is it safe to travel the city?” she wondered out loud.
“We won’t leave my clan’s district—it’s secure here.” Fenn’s actions didn’t align with his words as he shouldered on his bandoliers and strapped his crossbow to his back. “But if anything happens, I’m glad I have your magics by my side.”
Serenna flushed as they wound their way around the dwelling. “Where are we going?” she asked, stepping through the door Fenn held open, out to the open brick street.
Fenn gave her a fanged grin, dulling the edge of her sadness. “Have you ever seen a pocket goat?”
CHAPTER 34
LYKOR
Lykor drew to a halt at the top of the iron staircase before descending to his sitting room. Voices. Aiko shifted on his cloaked shoulders with a contented purr, head-butting his cheek. Lykor scratched behind her tufted ears, grumbling his complaint before stomping down the spiral staircase. It was too early in the morning to tolerate whoever decided to lay siege to his dwelling.
He’d roused in his own bed at least. For the first time in weeks. Lykor could only assume that was Aesar’s attempt of currying a crumb of favor by executing his “bargain” to earn more control during the day.
