Page 28 of Crown of Wrath

Then I’m standing in the forest again, and Cole looks up at me. “What have you done?” he whispers.

“You are not a weapon or a tool, Cole. You have carried a heavy burden for a very long time, and I have done nothing but make it heavier for you. I forced you to bear the burdens of my sorrow, and you never deserved that. I lost someone important to me, and… And I needed someone to blame. Someone that was physical. I was already punishing myself, but I needed more.”

“I’ll happily…”

I hold up my hand, stopping him. “You will not hurt so that I can feel better, Cole. You were not set in my path to be my whipping boy.”

He looks at me, pain in his eyes. “I’ll be whatever you need.”

“I need your light, Prince Cole. Not your submission or your resistance. I need your guidance and your cleverness and strength. I need all of you that tricked the world. I want the one that I fell in love with. I need the one who was willing to let the world shatter to save me from this crown.”

He smiles at me. It’s a cracked smile, but it’s a smile, nonetheless. “I would do anything for you.”

“Then stand up, Cole. Stop bowing. Stop acting like a broken and beaten man. Let’s heal ourselves so we can take Draenyth back, so we can fix the broken things in this world. I wear the Painted Crown now, and I need you more than ever.”

The smile may be broken, but it’s real. And it’s growing.

Nothing is fixed and neither of us are healed, but something has shifted. As I stare at the man that looks like he has at least a bit of hope in him, I can’t help but recognize that the only way either of us comes out of this alive is by working together. No, we’ve already been doing that. The only way we survive this is by forgiving the past.

Chapter 14

Magic is a cycle. It comes from some beings and gives life to others. It is power that life gives to life. Dragons create it and banshees consume it.

~Vyran the Black, A History of Magic and Dragons

Maeve

Sandor Arden, my Da, is laughing next to Rivertail as he shows the faun how to steam a fish, a new cooking technique for the villagers of Aerwyn. Da’s eyes look so full of life. Even compared to how I remember him, he’s different now.

Shadows stream from my fingertips, and the steady rhythm of peace flows through me at the same time. I’m neither full of lust nor cold as stone today. I’m content in a way that I can’t remember since my childhood, and somehow that simple emotion doesn’t interfere with my magic at all.

“Maeve, tell Rivertail how much you enjoy steamed fish!” Da says, his eyes moving to me rather than the cookfire he’s been working at for the past hour.

“To be honest, I don’t remember steamed fish very much, Da,” I say, and he frowns. “Uncle Trevor and Aunt Prudence never cooked it.”

He shakes his head. “I made it two weeks ago,” he mutters. “It’s really hard to get used to the idea that so much time has passed.”

I bet it is. I can’t look away from him. Except when he’s sleeping, something he does more than I remember, I’ve tried my best to spend as much time as possible with him. “It doesn’t matter. I’m excited about you cooking again. I remember how much you enjoyed cooking the things that Vesta and I caught.”

He grins. “I was always proud of how good of a hunter you were. We could have bought nearly any food we’d wanted with how much money your mother left us with, but you needed to learn to hunt, and I liked how big your smile was when we ate something you’d caught.”

I had always been proud of my hunting skills. It’s too bad that I never had any skill, and it was just a latent House of Earth ability.

“My hunting skill is a House of Earth power, Da. I just didn’t know back then. Nearly everything was because of my Earth bloodline or the fact that I was a Wyrdling.”

He cocks his head. “That’s not true. Otherwise, I’d have those same skills, wouldn’t I?”

I don’t know. He has a House of Earth bloodline, but it’s faint with how little Immortal blood is in him. “Maybe? My magic comes from Mother. My Earth bloodline comes from you, but I don’t know if you’d be able to do the same things I can since you don’t have as much magic as I do.”

“He couldn’t,” Cole says from behind me. I turn to see him looking far more like his old self. “You’re not wrong that a lot of your hunting skills are because of your bloodline, but a lot of them aren’t. You wore the Forgotten Ring, and you were only a Wyrdling when you brought down wolves and wild boar. Maeve, you were naturally gifted at tracking, but you weren’t a High Fae. That’s skill, and you shouldn’t dismiss it. You worked hard to be that good. Your ability with a spear is learned, not granted through your bloodline. Your cleverness is learned. Don’t dismiss your accomplishments.”

He says it all so sharply and focused that I almost forget how broken he is. This is the man that only yesterday was bowing and telling me he wasn’t worthy.

I smile at him, and I see my Da grinning at both of us. “I don’t know nearly as much as the Immortals you spend your days with, Little Star, but I know when words make sense. These do.”

There’s a sparkle in Da’s eyes. It’s hard to believe that only a few days ago, I thought he was dead.

A thrum of pride flows through the bond between Cole and me, and my heart swells. Cole has been just as proud of me as Da is. Every bit of training. Every new piece of magic I’ve learned or showed him, he’s been even more proud than the last.

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