Page 237 of Lana Pecherczyk
I can do this.
But as River studied their marks beneath the shelter of his useless wings, all he could think of was that her skin had looked like this in Cloud’s trove. Glowing. Smooth. Soft.
“You have a trove, too?”she’d asked him.
“Maybe.”
“Will I get to see it?”
He should have shared more of himself when she’d asked, even the ugly parts he hated. He should have said yes. But he hadn’t visited his trove for years. After he lost the ability to fly, the journey became a task. Besides, nothing had been worth collecting.
His trove was probably riddled with cobwebs, dust, and invasive sprites by now. There wasn’t much for dust to settle on. Most of his treasures were the kind he’d painted on walls. Memories. Scenes. Faces. Places. Words.
It wasn’t until he’d met Blake that he started collecting again. Even if his treasures were mostly cataloged in his mind, he’d hoped to paint them in his trove before she visited.
But again, time was not a friend. Contrary to his need to forge his own path through life, the inevitable conclusion remained the same. He could not control the journey. He could not bend fate to his will.
And he hated the feeling of being swept along. He hated the inevitable lonely end.
Where did that leave them?
Soft sounds of activity stirred outside his wing-cocoon. New parents murmured. Feet shuffled. A familiar rhythmic clink suggested that Cloud was nearby, flipping his butterfly knife.
It was his thinking habit—the flipping.
Painting was River’s. He traced the pattern down Blake’s arm, pretending his finger was a paintbrush. It was enough to keep his mind ticking over, thinking, too.
Cloud had betrayed them on the battlefield. He’d cost more innocent lives at the Shadow Market. Perhaps even more after the battle, if Jasper’s soldiers were to be believed. And the rest? Frying River’s wings? Kidnapping Blake? The cryptex?
The Six had woven the threads of fate long before Aleksandra and Maebh had. What was a little tug in Cloud’s direction when the Six needed Rory to return Willow to Elphyne? What if the Six were the reason Cloud entered Crystal City in the first place? What if they’re the reason Cloud fell in love with the enemy?
Was it fair to blame him when every mated male in this room would act the same if the woman they loved died? Even now, with Blake’s life slipping away, River knew he would do anything—killanyone—if it brought him a sliver closer to getting her back.
Cloud had loved Rory, and then she forgot him. She broke him. That messed him up.
As far as River was concerned, Cloud proved his heart by restarting Blake’s.
There was hope.
“It’s nice when you think about it.”Blake’s voice rose from a memory. River closed his eyes and sank into it, remembering how she’d touched items in Cloud’s trove, treating the memories with respect.“What I wouldn’t give to revisit objects fromme past—Mum’s makeup brushes. Dad’s hammer. I’d feel less alone.”
“Sparkles,” River sighed. “I’m so ashamed I told you my trove was too personal to visit. After the … accident … nothing seemed worth keeping. I stopped visiting it myself. Stopped collecting. But I was wrong. Everything is worth keeping. And everything is worth sharing. Even the ugly bits, the painful bits. Even with your friends.”
That’s when the answer hit him. He knew how to guide Blake home.
He lowered his fleshy wing, and light flooded in.
Cloud still leaned against the doorway again, blocking the exit. Loose, black curls had fallen over his eyes as he flipped and toyed with his knife.Clink. Clink.
The curtain between Blake’s bay and Trix’s was not drawn as River expected. The new mother reclined on the bed, yawning, while Aeron paced beside her, gently rocking the baby in his arms.
Jasper sat beside Ada on a bench at the foot of the bay, leaning against the wall, staring at the ceiling. Ada’s head rested on his shoulder. Her lashes kept drooping, but she flared them wide, trying to stay awake.
They should be resting, but they stayed.
For Blake.
For River.
