All Things Wild and Beautiful

20. Hateful Declarations

By late afternoon of their second day in Arcelia, Nascha had already shown Fenrys several of her old haunts. He'd been surprised by how many stories she told as they visited each location. Arcelia was having an effect on her. Only time would tell if that effect was good or bad.

Fenrys was choosing to hope that it was good. Nascha hadn't been snapping at him as much lately, but she was unusually quiet. Every time he looked at her, she almost seemed to be fighting back tears. The sight sent concern spiraling through him and it was all he could do to refrain from reaching out to her. He knew she wouldn't accept comfort from him, even if he knew how to offer it.

He wished he could offer it, but he couldn't find the right words to say or the right things to do. Nascha wouldn't accept an apology or condolences from him. She likely wouldn't accept any advice he offered. She certainly wouldn't accept any attempt at physical contact.

Part of him thought maybe that was what she needed. After all, how long had it been since she let someone embrace her? Judging from the way she kept her arms wrapped around herself...far too long.

Fenrys wasn't sure why he cared. He shouldn't feel sorry or concerned for her after everything that had happened. Knowing that didn't dampen his feelings in the slightest. All it did was confuse him.

Nascha's own confused emotions were part of the reason why he hadn't told her where her family was buried yet. When she shared stories about fun things she did with her family, she grew happier. As soon as the story ended, her mood fell once more.

He'd woken up the night before to the sound of her sobs. Fenrys kept himself still, pretending to be asleep so she wouldn't feel like she had to stop crying. She'd cried for hours. He pretended not to notice how red her eyes were when she woke, or how her hair stuck to the damp trails tears had left on her cheeks.

Nascha rubbed her eyes now, stifling a yawn. Fenrys followed her through the streets beyond a library, where she claimed to have spent many hours buried in books with her father. "I'm sorry I'm so tired," she murmured. "I guess I didn't sleep well last night."

"It's all right." Fenrys pursed his lips as dark tendrils wound around her fingers. "If you feel up to it, I think I have something to show you."

"What?" Nascha glanced at him over her shoulder.

"I spoke to Darrow about your parents and Vandran." Nascha stiffened. "He said they were buried in your family crypt." Her brown eyes became glassy.

"I know where it is," she rasped. "It might be under guard though. It always was when my parents were alive. Some of our family's most precious heirlooms are kept there."

"I can teleport us there if you want to go. You'll just have to describe the location and show it to me on a map."

Nascha bit her lip. "You can see it from our room at the inn." Fenrys waited. At last, she nodded. "All right."

She touched his arm as he dove into his magic. It carried them back to the inn and directly into their room. Nascha let go of Fenrys and approached the bay window. She kneeled on the cushion, pointing to a mountain in the distance. Fenrys joined her, accidentally brushing their arms together. Nascha's gaze flickered to him, but she gave no other reaction.

"The crypt is built into that mountain. There is a set of carved stone doors bearing the family crest. When you enter, you go down a flight of stairs until you reach a vast underground chamber. There are rows and rows of raised tombs and a few larger mausoleums. The mausoleums are inscribed with names, but in reality, that is where the heirlooms are stored. Is that enough information to take us there?"