Page 72 of King of Immortal Tithe (Darkmourn Universe 2)

I second-guessed my heritage. The jarring thought was short-lived as I reminded myself of the mismatched eyes Auriol and I got from our mother. And, more horrifically, the sickness I had been unluckily graced with.

“You are quiet,” Faenir said.

“My mind isn’t,” I replied.

Faenir turned me to face him, and I didn’t put up any resistance. “Would you like me to fill your mind with other matters?”

His lips curved upward, and I could not help but smile back. Something about Faenir was so entirely consuming. And he was right. It was early afternoon and already I would have preferred to climb into bed and hide away from the world.

“What is it you have in mind?”

Faenir’s fingers laced through mine, and he began stepping backwards. He guided me back into the chamber, which was just as cold inside as it was out. “I may not be able to touch Gildir’s kind offering of apology, but you can.”

“I sense you are missing some elaboration as to what you mean exactly.”

There was a glow of mischief behind his gaze.“Follow my commands, darling, and you will find out just what I am thinking.”

FAENIR

“There is something I would like to ask you, but if you wish to refuse me an answer, I will understand.”

I knew a question was coming, for Arlo’s fingers suddenly stopped tracing circles across my skin. He spoke not a moment after placing his entire palm upon my chest.

“I have nothing to hide from you, Arlo. For you, I am a book to open and rifle through the pages at your leisure,” I replied.

My heart leapt as Arlo raised his head from its place upon me and looked up at me. His wide eyes glistened. If he blinked, I was certain he would have cried. I longed to know what thoughts had troubled him, so I added pressure onto his back and pulled him close. “Talk to me, darling. What is it that concerns you?”

He looked away, not quick enough for me to see the single tear betray him as it rolled freely down the peak of his cheekbone.

“Seeing the children running through your grounds cannot help but make me grieve a childhood you never had. It is not fair what they have done to you. There is a part of me who is trying to make sense as to why Claria gave the orders to…” Arlo swallowed his words. They stopped so abruptly it conjured a shiver to race across my skin.

“You can say it. The memory is harsh, but I do not give it power to hurt me.”

He looked back up at me at that moment. He pushed himself completely from my chest and shifted his weight on the bed until he was sitting cross-legged, facing me. The dull light of early evening danced across his skin. It revealed every mark, every freckle, which I longed to memorise. To touch. As I did every time I looked at Arlo, I gave into the wonder that sang to me. How my shadows and his life light swirled as one. My shadows never took from him. His light was quiet, not demanding as others were around me. Theirs would sing for me to steal it, whereas Arlo’s life light simply existed without a melody.

“How did you survive what she did to you?” he asked.

Without thought, my gaze shifted from Arlo towards the cloud-peppered sky beyond the balcony. A storm brewed as it had for days, growing braver with whistling winds and downpours of rain that lasted hours. It was not the weather my mind drifted to, but the sole figure that I felt, even from a distance: Charon.

“Perhaps your answer will be better suited for another, for the mind of a baby cannot remember the details of such an event… even if the trauma left deep scars. It was Charon who found me.”

“But he is…” I watched Arlo silently contemplate what he was to say. “Dead, is he not?”

“Charon was once a man who lived and breathed as we do. During a time when he was not the ghoul that dwells upon the waters of the Styx, he was a man, a member of my family’s court. He worked in the gardens and heard me wailing upon the shores. Luckily, he had picked me up with gloved hands. His wife, however, was not so lucky. Nor was my family’s head healer. It took three bodies to pile up for Charon to know that he only survived because of the cover he wore on his hands.”

It was easy spilling my story to Arlo. The words fell out of me naturally and Arlo listened without interrupting.

“All this time I imagined you had been alone…”

I cringed at the sadness in Arlo’s voice, how it passed like a storm cloud behind his eyes. “Do not be sad for me, enough of such emotion has been spent throughout my life. I was not always alone, and with you here, I won’t be again.”

Hurt pinched Arlo’s face. It lasted only a moment as I witnessed him steel his expression. I was certain he bit down on the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from reacting again.

“Charon must have loved you, to look after you even after the unfortunate end his wife met.”

Allowing myself only a moment to the dark, I closed my eyes and reached out my shadows to Charon. He, unlike the other shades within the Styx, had been crafted of physical darkness as my grief as a child broke open when he died of natural causes. I could not explain with words as to what I had done to provide Charon such a form when the other souls I stole lingered within the dark waters. Could I release them too? Free them from the eternal prison my presence had locked them within?

“He loved me, I do not doubt that.” I said. “When Charon passed, I had not even reached a decade of age. All the other members of my family’s household had fled. They did not desire to be near an omen of such peril, they left only Charon and me. He did his best, with what was provided. I owe that man a debt that I fear I will never be able to repay.”

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