My skirts spill around me, a cascade of lace. My white dress is made of translucent layers that shift color in the light: cream, silver, pearl. We cross the entrance hall, then step out onto the drive. Arien is already outside. He wears a new shirt,the white linen decorated with a pattern of branches that curve sharply over his shoulders. He has a wreath set lopsidedly over his curls. He steps back to let us pass but avoids my eyes. He doesn’t smile.
We’ve hardly spoken since the day I told him about my connection to the Lord Under. He and Clover have worked endlessly over the past few weeks, while Rowan has been in the village to prepare for the fire. They’ve filled countless notebooks with sigils and walked back and forth along the shore of the lake. Tried and failed and tried again to find another way—any way—that they can cast a different spell that will mend the Corruption at the next ritual.
I’ve helped by adding my own, faint magic to Arien’s shadows when he practices one of the new spells. I’ve watched them grow tired and cross and more hopeless. And all the time, I’ve silently weighed and measured everything I have, wondering what I might offer to the Lord Under in exchange for his help.
Now, beside Arien in the drive with the ivy-wrapped house behind us, my chest aches with a heavy, uneasy feeling. The space between us feels like a wound that can’t heal over.
“You both look perfect,” Clover says. She smiles at me, then turns to adjust Arien’s collar. “Look at you. You’re like a prince from one of Violeta’s stories.”
She sets her lantern carefully onto the seat of the wagon that waits in the drive. Florence and Rowan already walked to the village earlier, to help with the preparations. Clover climbs into the wagon and takes the reins. The wagon bed is piled with branches and tangles of greenery that I’ve cut from the garden:our contribution for the bonfire. The horses—the same ones we rode here, from our cottage—have more of the starry flowers braided into their manes.
I step toward the wagon. Arien catches hold of my arm and looks up at Clover. “You go ahead,” he tells her. “Leta and I will walk.”
She raises a brow. “Really?” Realization crosses her face as she looks between us. “Oh. Yes, of course.”
She hums to the horses, and they start to trot. Arien and I watch the wagon grow smaller as it follows the drive away from the house. Once it is out of sight, we set off.
The now-empty house behind us feels hollowed out, with only a single lantern lit in the frontmost window. All around us, the tall, pale trees hush and whisper as the hot evening air stirs their leaves.
With all that’s happened since our arrival, this will be the first time we’ve left the estate. We walk through the front garden, past where I took Arien after the first ritual. When I wanted to leave, and Arien insisted we stay. So much has changed since that night, and yet so much is the same. I’m still fighting to keep him safe.
We pass beneath the iron gateway, and the drive gives way to a path that widens slowly to a well-worn road. The land slopes upward, and the forest that surrounds the estate thins to fields: almond groves and apple orchards. We walk through stripes of faded shadow and pastel sunset, and I think of how beautiful it will look in Harvestfall, when the leaves turn to crimson.
Arien walks beside me. Neither of us speaks for a long time. Everything between us feels so tangled, but I don’t know how to unknot it.
Finally, I reach out and take his hand. “Arien, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what, exactly?” His fingers tighten around mine. He keeps his eyes fixed on the road. “The lies you told? The secrets you kept?”
“It does sound like a lot, when you put it like that.” I try to smile, but he still won’t look at me. “Yes, for the lies and for the secrets. I’m sorry for everything.”
He huffs out a frustrated breath. “I know what you want to do. Youwantto make a bargain with the Lord Under.”
“I want to make sure no one else will be hurt. And if he can help me, then—”
“You and Rowan are both so determined to throw your lives away. Look at what he’s done, trying to fight the Corruption on his own. He’s poisoned himself. He’s made himself into a monster. And you—” Roughly, he turns my hand palm up. Bares the crescent mark on my skin. “You didthis.”
I snatch back my hand. “What else was I supposed to do?”
“You didn’t eventhink, Leta. You act like my only choice is to stay back, that it doesn’t matter if you’re hurt because I’ll be safe.” He bites his lip. I can tell he’s trying not to cry. “You’re my sister. I want you to be safe, too.”
“He’s helped me before.” I try not to look at Arien’s hands. His arms. The thin, pale scars left from when Clover mended him are as delicate as embroidery. “He saved you.”
“Yousaved me.” Arien’s mouth curves into a sad smile.“What you did in the woods—what you asked the Lord Under, and how it changed me—I don’t blame you, Leta. But this is different. He’ll want more than your magic for this. You know that.”
“No, he won’t take my magic since he needs me to use it.” I run my hand over my arm, trace the outlines of the marks on my skin. “Although… he might change his mind once he knows I draw messy sigils.”
“You do realize you’re not at all funny.”
“Maybe he’ll want my sense of humor. Then you won’t have to listen to my jokes anymore.”
“Leta.”Arien grabs hold of my hand again. “He took Rowan’s whole family. What do you have to offer that can equal that?”
I glance back over my shoulder, to where the road stretches behind us. We’ve gone far from the estate now. All around us are only trees and fields and the darkening sky. I think again of what Arien said after the first failed ritual. When I tried to make him leave, and he insisted that we stay. When he showed me the sigil on his wrist and told me,I couldn’t do anything to help you before, but now I can.
At the time, I hadn’t understood how or why he’d want to use his magic in such a dangerous way. But now I’ve gotten that same chance. A way to make up for all the time I’ve spent powerless.
“I want to help.” My voice goes out soft into the trees. “I want to do this.”
