Page 67 of Crown of Wrath

He hesitates for a moment, and then his resistance fades. He shrugs and walks into his bedroom. The chambers that are basically the same as mine and Cole’s are… I don’t know the right word. They’re not dirty. Maids have come in and cleaned the rooms. There’s no dust. There aren’t any plates with food on them or empty goblets.

It’s just all uncared for. The chair at his desk isn’t pushed in. A corner of a rug is flipped over. There are dozens of tiny little things that are wrong, things that Darian would normally have fixed without thinking.

I sigh and shake my head. He’s hurting so badly, and there’s nothing I can really do to help him feel better. His sister is risking her life, and he’s unable to help her.

Even more than a married couple, Darian and Lee have shared their entire lives. There is no inside joke the other doesn’t know. There is nothing they’ve ever really experienced without the other.

Until now. I don’t blame Darian for struggling. Lee’s been a part of his life since before birth. He doesn’t know how to live without her near him.

“Is this more acceptable?” he asks as he steps out in a mostly clean, deep blue tunic and matching pants. They’ve been embroidered with forest green vines and leaves and are obviously only something that one of the wealthiest humans would wear. Uncle Trevor definitely wouldn’t have owned anything that intricate.

Yet, it’s still wrinkled. It’s still makes him look sloppy. “One day, I’m going to find someone to take care of your clothing for you, Darian. Until then, that will work.”

He actually gives me a smile after that comment. “I just don’t see the point of it. They’re just clothes. Why do they need to look a certain way?”

I give him a grin and shake my head just a little. “I don’t know. They’re just supposed to.” I look down at the dress that’s so simple compared to the midnight one made of pure shadows that I normally wear. This one is a gorgeous red silk that flows smoothly over my body and looks like it’s made for me.

But nothing can compare to my woven shadows.

“Well, what are we eating today?” he asks, seeming to perk up just a little. Darian’s always been very food motivated.

I shrug. “I thought we’d just go to the market and see what we can find. That way, we can have a little bit of everything.”

Darian’s grin widens at the talk about food, and he picks up a coin purse from a table that jingles as he ties it to his belt. “There’s a woman that sells fried quail legs that are to die for.”

It’s my turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had fried quail legs. I wasn’t ever very good at hunting quail, but I’m game to try them. Do you know if they have any chocolate vendors? It’s been a long time since I had any, and I’m craving it.”

Darian offers me his arm and says, “Oh, my dear Queen. They have plenty of chocolate. Though none of it compares to the chocolate at…”

I’ve helped him to liven up at least a little, but as we walk down the halls, I realize just how temporary this will be for him. There’s no way that I’m going to change the fact that the only person who’s always been with him isn’t here and is in constant danger. I can’t stop him from worrying about Lee or missing her.

All I can do is help him forget that for a moment. The best I can give him is an afternoon where the storm clouds aren’t quite as dark. Maybe it will help him. Maybe it won’t. But it’s all I can do.

Chapter 34

I miss her so much. I miss my Little Star, and I know that no matter what happens, I will never be her mother. I know what I did was right, but not a day goes by that I wish it had been someone else who had done it. Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I was there to hold my little girl. Now I’m nothing but the woman who gave her a bloodline. Another Immortal only interested in power. If only she knew how wrong that really was.

~Brenna Morvyn, letters to Vesta

Maeve

The afternoon sun glistens on the snow-covered ground. Darian’s breath comes out as a mist as we walk through the market with stomachs full of chocolate-covered caramels andquail legs and smoked fish on crackers. We’d tried a little bit of everything, but those were the stalls that we’d eaten our fill.

Now, we’re just wandering the market, and Darian pulls me into a small stall. It’s full of little carvings. Some are made from beautiful woods; others from soft stone. All of them are gorgeous and so intricate. He picks up a full-sized sparrow made from lindenwood that’s stained instead of painted, each feather a slightly different color. Only the eyes have been painted, and they shine in the afternoon sun.

Darian holds it up and watches the feathers shimmer in the light. “Lee’s always been fond of little birds. She may know nothing about them, but she loves to watch them flitter about and fight with each other over a berry or piece of string.”

I remember when Darian told me that Immortals didn’t understand love, and at that time, I’d believed him even if I hadn’t comprehended how it was possible. Now, while I’m watching him almost mourn his sister—who is still very much alive—just because she’s been gone, I can’t believe it.

Maybe Immortals, as a whole, don’t understand it, but Darian understands loving someone. Maybe he’s never experienced romantic love, but he knows what it feels like to miss someone so much it hurts. He doesn’t need Lee’s help or her powers, but he needs to see her. He needs to hear her voice.

Darian understands love.

“Someday, you’re going to meet a pretty woman and she’s going to convince you to marry her, you big softie.”

The near teary-eyed look turns into a smile. “My dear Maeve, no woman will ever be able to catch me. I’m like the birds my sister likes so much. Free to flit from one pretty branch to the next with no need to stay in a single tree for the rest of my immortal life. Why would a bird choose to clip his own wings?”

“But what if you found the prettiest tree you’d ever seen? And you could bring that tree with you everywhere you went? Then,you could always sit in the best tree. Even in the middle of a desert or on an island.”

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