"... finished yet?"
"Don't rush me. It's hard to reattach an ear when my magic is so flimsy."
The prick of a needle slid through the tender flesh on the side of Vera's head, but she couldn't find the strength to even wince at the invasive touch. It burned, lighting her skin on fire, but it wasn't unfamiliar. She couldn't help but feel that the needle had slid in and out in a delicate dance for a long time now.
Darkness hung all around her. Voices came and went. The only constant was the needle and the crackle of magic thread sewn along the path of the wound—along with the occasional frustrated huff when it fizzled out. Was that Zeno's hand against her forehead? It was strangely warm, a far cry from the frigid touch of his starry hands. The needle slid through her flesh again. This time, she clenched her jaw to hold back a groan. Zeno never took so long to heal anything, nor was he prone to the use of tools to aid his endless supply of power. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, ready with a complaint though her mouth was full of sand, but nothing ever came out.
Zeno. The forest. The crack of a shotgun. His silent scream as he collapsed, ichor pouring from the bullet hole in his chest. All at once, her memories slammed into her and broke through the darkness. The voices sharpened. She picked out her siblings among the drawl, their argument too liquid for her to grasp. It wasn't the chatter of the forest, nor the oppressive silence of the abandoned manor. Not even the distant, haunting echo of Elizabeth's moan. It was familiar.
With a jolt, Vera snapped her eyes open. The painted ocean no longer loomed over her. The tattered, ghostly curtains were no longer fluttering in the corner of her eye. The stench of mold was replaced with a faint floral scent, and her delicate crystal chandelier hung overhead, throwing iridescent shimmers over the pastel walls. Rain pattered against her window, closed behind thick curtains of navy and silver, delicate tassels hanging from the edges.
"Don't move." A strong hand pushed against her shoulder. Silas sat next to her on the bed, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed behind his perfectly polished glasses.
Another prick. The needle slid into her skin. Vera bit her tongue and strained to get a glimpse of her injured side, a curse ready for whoever sat there. She expected to find the family doctor or another healer whose face would be unfamiliar, someone that she could slice to bits with her sandpaper tongue. Instead, her gaze landed on Eileen, brow wrinkled in concentration as she maintained a glittering spool of magic thread. Her long black hair was braided down her back, her linen gown a plain tan and void of any of her usual embroidery at the hem. Beside her, silver needle in hand, bent over Vera's wounded side, was the eldest Reite sister.
Vera's breath caught in her throat. "Ferne?"
A soft smile graced Ferne's lips, but she otherwise kept her focus pinned on her work. The tips of her honeyed fingers were red with blood like the point of the needle pinched between them. "Be still, Vera. I'm almost finished."
"Zeno." Vera jerked out of Silas's hold and started to sit up. Her own duvet covers weighed her down, speckled with more blood. The room spun, but she rolled over and propped herself up on her arms, ignoring the sharp tug of the thread on her ear. Ferne and Eileen both lurched forward to give the thread some slack. Annoyance flashed across Eileen's face, but Vera didn't back down. "What happened to Zeno?"
Eileen's back straightened. "Who?"
"Lie down. Can't you be patient and listen for once?" Silas grumbled. He grabbed Vera's shoulder and wrenched her back against the pillows.
The movement yanked on the thread stitched into her wound, and Vera yelped. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gingerly touched the spot just above her jaw. Her fingers brushed the curved edge of her ear, and her heart fluttered.
"If you're going to talk anyway, the least you could do is say hello," Ferne chided. Though her tone was light, there was a shakiness to her voice that betrayed something darker lurking beneath. Someone had lit her fuse already, and it was only a matter of time before she exploded and chewed out whoever was still lurking when it happened. She had always been a second mother to the Reite family; her absence left a scar that could only be soothed when she was able to return.
Vera's throat constricted. She wasn't stupid enough to believe Ferne's return to the Reite manor was a coincidence. "I missed you," she whispered, barely more than a murmur. Tears blurred her vision, but she blinked hard until they cleared.
"Did you?" Ferne huffed. "If your grand plan was to run away and scare the family to death so that I'd come home for the crisis, nicely done." She tugged sharply on the thread and tied it off. Wiping her fingers off on a cloth, she stood and held out the bloody needle for Eileen to take. "That will have to do for now. Silas, help her up."
Eileen paled as she looked between the needle and Vera. "I don't think this is your best work, Ferne," she muttered, but she took the needle anyway and folded it into the soiled white cloth. Her spool of thread had already dispersed into a shower of blue and silver fragments.
Slowly, Vera sat up, aided by Silas's hand against her back. The world rocked as she moved, swimming with nausea, but she managed to stay upright. Her ears had stopped ringing, and the distorted sound in her injured side seemed clearer. She touched the ridges made by the stitches. At the base of her ear, they were already beginning to fade, leaving smooth skin behind save for a subtle jagged scar. Ferne had always been skilled at healing as well as art. Any wound she mended would disappear without a trace—though the result used to be more instantaneous. Vera's admiration for her soured with a tinge of jealousy.
"How do you feel?" Ferne asked. The mattress dipped as she perched on the edge of it again. Despite the bite of her words, her eyes were soft as she searched Vera's face.
"My earring," Vera murmured.
Ferne sighed. "You have one on this side." She touched Vera's other ear, tilting her head as her gaze narrowed at the trinket. Her hand dropped back into her lap. "I guess you lost the other when you lost your ear. When did you start wearing earrings again?"
Vera touched the cold metal, grateful for the hum of magic against her skin. "I only had one," she said before casting her glance down. The key no longer rested against her chest. Panic twisted her gut. "Where is—"
"Here." Eileen grabbed the key from the nightstand and tossed it at Vera. "I cleaned it for you. It was covered in blood. And before you ask, Wyn has your bag, but I wouldn't go downstairs yet. He's not happy with you."
Vera fumbled to catch the heavy gold object, her movements slow as if the cotton in her head had spread to the rest of her limbs. The key gleamed in the light, shinier than it had been when she received it and free of every speck of blood she had left on it. Yet it pulled harshly on her hands as if it were dragging her down. Once, it hummed with life. It was still now, as empty as any other key. Something inside her twisted and a bitter taste coated her tongue. It was supposed to be her connection to Zeno, but if it had lost its power, there was no way to deny the consequences.
She had failed. The unseelie still roamed the woods, and if Zeno had been killed, their chances of killing it without him were nigh impossible. Yet part of her shriveled to think of Zeno's parting gift. He was right; why should she continue to meddle when she had what she wanted? Use your head, Vera. Take your prize and let this become some other fae's problem.
But the key was stone cold. Zeno's silent scream rang in her ears and threatened to pull her under the depths. Ichor flowed not just into the rune-coated vial, but spilled across the grass as well. His star-covered hands dimmed as he had clutched his bullet wound. His expression was broken, his mask finally cracked beneath the searing agony. What had truly become of him? Did Wyn let him die?
Vera clutched the key as she shot a glare at Silas, still perched on her other side. His concern dimmed under her scrutiny, and his stormy gray eyes darkened as he threw up his walls. When he stood, his back was perfectly straight, waiting for her to snap.
The edges of the key bit into Vera's palm, its teeth sharper than any knife. "What happened to Zeno?"
"No," Silas snapped, and flecks of magic danced behind his glasses. "You're done asking questions. What in the name of the moon were you thinking? Stealing from Wyn, stealing from the library, running away from home without a word—do you have any idea what you've done?"
"And," Ferne added with a pointed look at Silas, "you could have been killed out there, Vera. The west woods are dangerous for any fae."
"But especially for someone like me, right?" With a growl, Vera shoved the comforter aside and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Ferne made a grab for her arm, but she shook her off and stood, glaring daggers at Silas. As Ferne's healing power sank into her bones, her strength began to return, and she stood freely on her own. Silas held a couple of inches over her, especially when he stood with his chin high, but she refused to back down. A punch to the gut was all it ever took to make him crumble. She kept her fist clenched around the key.
Silas pursed his lips. "Yes. Especially someone like you. Do you want a medal, Vera? An award for being the biggest idiot in the Moon Court? Because I'll make that happen. Did you really think this little escapade would end well? If Wyn and I hadn't found you when we did—"
"You don't even know what you've done!" Vera snapped. "Did you or did you not kill Zeno?"
"I don't even know who Zeno is!"
Ferne stood. "Vera—"
"No!" Vera whirled to face her, cheeks burning as anger surged through her. The room was spinning, tainted red at the edges, but somehow she found the faces of her sisters amidst the chaos, and the sight only stoked the flame. Pity. That was all she saw in the way they looked at her. Pity for the poor magic-less fae they rescued for the deep, dark woods, for the fae they snatched from the clutches of an ancient monster, for their sister they had saved from her own idiocy.
Pity for Ve.
It didn't matter what she had survived. Their faces were the same, and they always would be until she finished what she had set out to do.
And only Zeno could give her the power she needed. The vial.
Fighting tears, Vera shoved Silas aside and stormed out the door. He called her name, but she kept walking until she reached the banister where she leaned over to peer at the floor below. Voices drifted up the stairs from the parlor—one of which was Wyn's, his carefree tenor taunting her as it swirled around her. Vera clutched the key and made a break for the stairs just as Silas burst out of her bedroom, gray eyes blazing. His heavy footsteps rattled down the wood stairs behind her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and Vera hurtled over the last few steps. The impact raced up her legs and sucked the breath from her lungs, but she didn't stop.
The end of the stairs opened up into the entryway of the house, where the Reite crest hung above the front door in all its silver glory. Two spears crossed over the full moon. Guardians of the primal source of magic. How laughable.
"Vera!" Silas shouted as he slammed onto the last step.
She swerved into the connecting room. Floral wallpaper, crisp and clean and free of cracks, covered the walls in a relaxing mix of baby blues and lilacs, yet Vera's blood still boiled. Three men stood by the floor-to-ceiling window where the overcast sky threw a torrential downpour upon the Reite house and its grounds. The bespectacled tall man in the center was her father, and his expression softened the moment he noticed her in the doorway, the lines in his face cut deep by the shadows. Around him was a pale blond man, his brown eyes rimmed with warm orange fae markings—Ferne's husband—and beside him, an equal mix of stunned and smug, was Wyn. His ever-present sword hung at his hip, and his shotgun propped against the nearest couch was within reach, its newly repainted runes gleaming silver—or perhaps it was one of his many other weapons, like the one that shot Zeno. When he swung to meet her eye, his face turned cold.
"Vera Reite, stop."
Silas's command seized her by the throat. Every limb froze, pinning her in place as the electric crackle of magic simmered beneath her skin. She couldn't move as his hands clamped around her wrists like iron cuffs, the touch lacing fire up her arm. The moment his grip settled, the spell released her and she wrenched against his hold.
"Let go! I demand to talk to Wyn!" she screamed, thrashing against him. She twisted one arm and it slipped free, her wrist sliced by his nails as it snapped back to her side. Confidence surged through her as she wrangled her other wrist, but his grip only tightened. Balling her fist around the key, she slammed her knuckles up into his ribs.
Silas wheezed, doubling over but he didn't let go. He lifted his head with a sneer. Slowly, ice crawled across his fingers, sinking its bitter cold fangs into her skin. It snapped her breath away, and she gasped as the cold clashed with the burning rage in her chest. She stamped hard on his foot; something cracked and he let out a sharp yelp. Still, he held fast.
Wyn cleared his throat, a sound that sliced through the tension hanging thickly over the room. "Father, Helios, I'd like to have a word with Vera, please. We can continue our discussion later."
Helios, Ferne's husband, left with the quick dip of his head. Vera's father hesitated, casting a nervous glance between Vera and her brothers, his lips pursed in a thin line. Eventually, he let out a breath and excused himself. He was their father, but ultimately Wyn and Silas superseded his position of authority when he allowed them to claim his seat on the Council. Vera could only watch helplessly as he disappeared farther into the house.
"Silas," Wyn said, inclining his head to his twin. When they stood in the room together, their similarities were heightened. They had the same dark complexion and narrow gray eyes, the same deep blue markings stamped on their eyelids, the same raven-black hair—though Wyn kept his long and tied back. Both dressed in their midnight blue cloaks, their necks graced with the pendant of the High Council scholars, they flaunted their power over her in more ways than one.
Vera gritted her teeth and tensed, waiting for the double edged sword. The two-fold mockery or scolding—whatever her brothers had in store. Silas's grip tightened on her wrist, frigid with the touch of ice. She jerked one more time, but he still refused to let go.
To her surprise, Wyn sighed as he sank to a seat on the couch behind him. "Let her go. She's not a prisoner in her own home."
The edges of Vera's mouth curved in a smug smile, one she eagerly flashed at Silas as he stared dumbfounded at his twin. His lips parted, but only a strangled mutter came out. He shook his head and tried again. "But Wyn, she's—"
"Don't you have other matters to attend to?"
That shut him up. Silas clamped his mouth shut. With a huff, he dropped Vera's wrist and bowed stiffly to his brother before he left with an awkward limp. Satisfaction squirmed in the pit of Vera's gut. At least her efforts hadn't gone entirely to waste.
The mix of relief and satisfaction was short-lived. She cradled the tiny scrape in her arm as she turned back to Wyn, who was watching her with that cold, calculating look. It was one he wore in many of their sparring sessions, one she had seen mirrored on Zeno's alabaster face more times than she cared to admit. The similarities sent a shiver crawling down her spine.
"Where's Zeno?" she spat.
"Why don't you sit, Vera?" Wyn leaned back, feigning openness with his relaxed posture, but his hand still rested near his sword. There was no mistaking the tightness in his expression, the smile that barely concealed the anger boiling beneath it. Even his magic, which was usually kept under close control, began to permeate the air with an electrifying heat. "We have much to discuss."
Hope Zeno isn't confined to the arena :(
Wyn knows what a terrible fate that is.
Thanks for reading! I'll see you guys next time! :D