Page 77 of The Shadowbound and the False God

“This fucking thing,” he swore, swatting at it halfheartedly as the two released each other. Though he was smiling, he looked like he’d gotten emotional, too, just by watching her.

Aisling sniffed and dried her face as best she could, then gestured to the dagger between them. “Did it work?”

He nodded. “Beautifully. You did perfect, Aisling. She’d be proud of you.”

Of course he knew what she’d given up; Rodney knew her better than anyone else in the world—in any realm. She could only manage a grateful nod in response.

The pair sat quietly for a long time, Rodney allowing Aisling the space to settle and process and feel what she needed to feel. Gradually, the loss of that coiled knot inside her began to feel less like a loss, and more like something had been given back. The space that all that guilt and regret had occupied insideher was now free to be filled with other things. Brighter, more hopeful things.

“What will you give?” she asked eventually.

Rodney gave a tired smile. “That, Ash, is a story for another time.”

“Over beers?”

“Over beers.”

“Do you want me to sit with you while you do it?” Aisling reached out and took his hand, the way he had hers.

Rodney squeezed it and said, “Please.”

Kael was waiting for her when Aisling returned to the fireside. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. Everything was plain in his gaze, whatever he might have said written there on his face. He looked at her like she was his salvation. With only a brief touch of his fingertips against her wrist, he disappeared down the passage to find Rodney in the distant chamber. His touch lingered on her skin long after he’d gone.

She could feel it still when he emerged again. Aisling had settled down beside the warming flames to attempt to process what she’d just experienced, what she’d just given up. It was a strange feeling, that new emptiness, though not altogether bad. Still, it made her nervous. Despite that initial feeling of lightness and possibility, she wondered if she might accidentally fill it with the wrong thing. The different kind of guilt she would forever harbor over the events in The Cut, perhaps, or something new entirely. She wanted to believe she was strong enough to reserve that space for something more than the cruel words she spoke to herself in quiet moments, but she wasn’t sure anymore.

Except almost in the same breath, she’d gained something, too.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He loved her.

The declaration was simple, without embellishment or pretense. Truth in its rawest, purest form. And it was so, so beautiful.

Aisling hadn’t realized just how much she needed to hear it—not to guess at it, not to feel it, tohearit. She wasn’t alone; she hadn’t imagined this or dreamt it or fooled herself into thinking it was more than what it seemed. Kael Elethyr Ardhen, King of the Unseelie Court,lovedher. She could have laughed at the absurdity of it.

All was not forgiven; that would take time, and a hell of a lot more effort on both of their parts. But this—where they’d landed tangled and tearful on the ground beneath the god realm’s pitch-dark sky—was enough for now.

When Kael sat down beside her, Aisling moved closer to him instinctively, seeking out that reassuring contact and relishing every bit of it she could get. It was yet one more thing she had missed. Rodney followed close behind and dropped to the ground with far less grace. He looked exhausted, with dark circles dulling the brightness of his golden eyes. Even his tail sagged; it rested limply on his shoulder instead of flitting around behind him. Still, he seemed in good spirits.

“Well, well, well,” he teased when he noticed their closeness. “It’s about goddamn time.”

Aisling’s cheeks flushed crimson. The blush was so intense it spread to bloom color across her chest, too.

“Shut up, Rodney,” she muttered.

Raif cut Rodney a disparaging glance. The soldier had taken up almost half of the chamber, having emptied his satchel ofweapons to take stock of what remained. Three fletched arrows lay beside him with freshly sharpened tips, and he was working a whetstone over his longsword. All of them too deep in their own thoughts to speak again, the periodic scraping was the only sound they allowed.

Their reverie was shattered by a sudden scream: a wail of grief, high and keening. Raif slipped from the cairn first, sharpened sword aloft. Kael followed close behind, pausing only long enough to push Aisling toward Rodney—a wordless instruction for him to keep her there. It didn’t matter; they chased quickly after the males towards the disturbance.

Sudryl knelt in the grass, weeping loudly into her hands. One of the rowan trees lay on its side before her. It was the smallest one, the one she had taken special care with when she and Aisling had tended the grove. She’d been so gentle with each leaf and ridge and twig; now, roots exposed to the cold night air, the tree looked lifeless. The others creaked and moaned as they shifted with the breeze, exhaling sounds of mourning for their fallen companion.

“Sudryl—” Raif started.

The faerie sprang to her feet and rounded on Kael. Her tear-soaked face was full of a fiery rage so ancient and deep Aisling felt it curdling in her own stomach.

“You,” she accused, leveling a trembling finger at Kael. “You did this; this is your fault!”

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