Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
When the soldiers start feeling sick, they band together, keeping up morale, and I remind them as I brew calming broths that their symptoms will be mild, and after, they will no longer need to fear the plague for themselves.
As I finish the last broth, my shield flickers, weakening. I murmur an excuse and step away, my body finally demanding rest. I traipse over Frederica’s estate, breathing in the crisp, moonlit air. Across the fields, the luminarium—once a beacon of light—stands hollow, nothing more than a silhouette in the dark. No linea pour magic into it now; the city’s customs have crumbled beneath crisis. No luminist bells will change the will of the people now.
I sit on the hill, beneath the tree where River’s name is carved in memory, and I speak to him as if he can hear. I tell him everything—about Quin, the soldiers, the kingdom teetering on the edge of collapse. I remember refusing to heal after River’s death. How grief paralysed me. And how Quin—stubborn, infuriating Quin—made me get on that horse. That happened here, such a pivotal moment in my healing life. If it hadn’t happened, nothing else that followed would have either. How impactful a single decision can be. How impactful moments are in life.
At this very tree, the regent once fell in love—with a luminist’s son, a love that ended in violence. A love that shaped his cruelty. And it was here too that Casimiria, Quin’s father, and Yngvarr met. Relationships that ended up shaping the history of a kingdom.
The soft sound of footsteps padding over grass comes from the other side of the hill. I peer around the thick base of the tree and still at the sight of Quin and Nicostratus, who pause under the branches, staring out towards the sky, their backs to me.
There’s a quiet tension pulling between them, and it has me curling back behind the trunk. I’m debating how to pick myself up and sneak away without being caught when Nicostratus speaks, and I’m rendered frozen to the tree roots.
“For those days, I hated him, Quin. Hated you.”
The words are soft and a gentle breeze carries them away.
“No,” Nicostratus says on a heavy exhale. “I hated what you took from me. What I thought you took from me.”
Quin doesn’t say anything for a few breaths, and then he speaks evenly. “We did take from you.”
Nicostratus lets out something between a groan and a sigh. “He also gave to me. He gave me back this life.”
Quin murmurs with immediate understanding. “He is sick in your stead.”
“I didn’t know at first. Not when he shoved me at the ruins. I was too angry, outraged. All I wanted then was to hurt him as much as he hurt me.” Nicostratus’s voice grows quiet. “I didn’t understand it in the moment, but it’s since played relentlessly in my mind. The sneeze meant for me. The way he shielded me. The wipe of his face. The flicker in his eyes like he knew it was already too late.” Nicostratus’s voice breaks.
I feel the breezes calm, and though I cannot see, I feel in my bones Quin moving closer to his brother. “Did you think he’d let you die?”
“Wouldn’t that have solved everything for you both?” Nicostratus lets out a frustrated sound and I imagine him dragging his hands over his face, scrubbing at his mind to accept. “To have thought this at all . . . I’ve already failed him—him and you. You both care for me. It’s just that I only now realise that there can be deep affection without romantic love. You love me, Quin. I love you. And Cael . . . He loves us both, but—” he exhales deeply “—he’s in love with you.”
Quin hums, low and thoughtful, and I imagine his lips tipping up quietly at the edges. “He always has been. Even if he didn’t always know it.”
Nicostratus scoffs and I hear the start of an achy laugh. “I saw it all. Even I don’t think you have a choice.”
A long pause follows, and then Quin’s rumbled voice, “No, we do not. Our feelings cannot be undone.”
“Even if they could . . .” Nicostratus starts.
And Quin finishes, “I have memories of him. I can visit them forever. He can’t be taken from my mind. I can’t be taken from his. Even without living a future, he would still always be between us.”
The weight of that truth settles deeply, a confession that tickles warmth—light, his light—through my veins.
Nicostratus curses gently. “I still hate it. But never as much I love you.”
Quin speaks, voice softened—just a little. “That is enough.” The trees rustle gently overhead like a soft cheer, and Quin adds, quieter. “I never want to lose you.”
It’s very quiet now.
The quiet that comes with embrace.
My chest clenches and I close my eyes, absorbing the tenderness permeating the air. Then without making a sound, I sneak away. This moment was not meant for me to hear, and yet. Yet witnessing it is a balm to my soul—more than a balm. Nourishment.