The wind rustling the trees outside stopped.
You’ll be here …
Daron’s heart strained.
That whisper wouldn’t leave. Every day, it grew louder.
“I’ll drop you off,” he repeated tersely.
“The driver’s on my coin today, so I’m in charge of where we go.” Sighing, Lottie straightened her newspapers into an orderly pile. “Come on, Daron. You need to stop this. You’ve combed through these woods for—”
“Sorry if it’s not more exciting work. You’re more than welcome to stay back with the others.” Daron held back a scoff. It came as no surprise how easily they’d fractured almost as soon as they’d banded together. The first to drop from the group was Canary, who had no patience for hours-long rides through the woods, or for Daron. The fire-eater had never much liked him when they’d begun working together, whereas Aaros at least somewhat endured him. Though judging from the assistant’s eventual absence to carry on his own lead in the city, perhaps Daron was wrong about that, too.
“If you haven’t found anything remotely promising by now, you must move on,” Lottie pressed. “You’re just going in circles.”
“Have you forgotten that these woods aren’t normal? They’re known to lie and play tricks.” His nostrils flared. “You’re the one who brought up that bloody club in the first place.”
“And I know when to step back once a trail goes cold,” she countered. “It was an interesting lead, but it’s led nowhere.”
Daron desperately wanted to escape this coach, even if it meant exploring the Dire Woods on foot. “That could change any day. It’s fine if you don’t agree.”
Lottie clenched her fists. A feat, considering the length of her nails. “I could shake you, I swear,” she huffed. “When will you realize you don’t have to do this alone, and that I’m on your side? For Zarose sake, we’re all on your side.”
Daron gestured indifferently at the empty space around them. “Quite a team we have on our side,” he said, leaning back. “Why are you even here?”
His voice was all ice, the only thing holding him together. And no one brought it out in him more than Lottie.
He still hadn’t forgotten. After what she’d done, all those years ago, his body remained primed for attack just in case, waiting for the Poison of the Press to spin her web of stories. Miraculously, she’d stayed her pen against him for this long, but that wouldn’t last. For people like her, it would be a shame for a good story to go to waste.
“Despite what you think, I do have a heart,” Lottie said pointedly. “And I know what yours is going through. Again.”
Daron averted his gaze, bracing himself against his seat.
Why did she have to do this now?
“I went through it, too. I understand how lonely not knowing feels,” she continued. “But you don’t have to be alone for it this time. Eva wouldn’t have—”
“Don’t.” His pulse stilled as the ice returned, the shadows swarmed.
Her name, said aloud, snapped something inside him every time.
“We have to talk about her sometime.”
Even with every bump and jerk of the carriage, they were frozen. Lottie, damn near a statue on her side. He couldn’t bear to even look at her now, not when Eva entered the carriage. She remained between them in every room, every conversation. A whisper, a ghost. Lottie had made her one to the world years ago when her story had gone to press, despite claiming they’d once been friends. A friend would not play up another friend’s disappearance to captivate her readers. Even if it was to throw the world off to carry on searching in secrecy, she still got her money’s worth. Eva was gone, and a glamorous stage tragedy filled her shoes instead.
“Is that why you’re still here?” Daron asked stiffly. “To finally corner me? Get some new angle?”
Lottie’s eyes slitted to dark slashes. “Is this your new front?” Her voice turned so cold that the ice in him faltered. “Can’t confront what’s wrong now, so you keep digging up the past?”
“It’s no front. I just don’t trust you.”
He must’ve been out of his mind to think this time would be any different. From the moment she’d stepped into Glorian and spotted him, she’d been hungry for blood. No one changed appetites that quickly.
There was so much in her heavy glare, the harsh twist of her mouth before diffusing under a humorless laugh. “You just love making me the bad guy, don’t you? It’s so easy,” she drawled. “When you’re no better. And I’m done hiding it.”
Daron frowned. “What did you just say?”
The passing shadows of the trees outside flickered over her face, but her eyes remained lit. Livid. “I’ve tried patience with you, especially now. But if you’re determined to just sit in coaches thinking that’s the best course of action, then here’s some entertainment for the ride,” Lottie said, nostrils flaring. “I’ve covered your ass from social ruin long enough, Demarco. Had my suspicions even longer. And not once did I air them out, because Eva didn’t.” The corner of her lip turned slightly in disgust. “Clearly in protection of you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Eva’s name was no longer gentle or hesitant between them. Lottie wielded it more like a sword, a lit match held over a trail of oil. Daron could hardly summon any anger. Only confusion. “All of my secrets have been aired out.”
It was front-page news all across Soltair. However outlandish the stories, they got one thing right: Daron was a fraud. No power to his name—not true magic, at least. Once, it had flowed through him. He was a born magician, after all. Same as Eva.
But what was a magician without powers? If such powers only came and went whenever they pleased? After Eva had vanished, so much else had fallen away from him. His love for magic, the stage, his grasp on his own power. Grief had hollowed him out so thoroughly, it only made sense that his magic followed suit.
Until he came to Glorian.
“You truly believe that’s all there is?” Lottie tsked. “I thought you were just playing dumb and powerless.”
Powerless.
His heart lurched as Kallia’s face flashed before him. The pain gripping her body, her features, as she fell to the floor drenched in mirror shards.
While he rose to his feet, power flaring in his palm.
He’d replayed those last moments a million times in his head. Again and again, the melody wouldn’t leave. Not until he knew every note of the music.
And the part he played in making it.
“I … I thought it had to be Glorian.”
Eva had always brought it up. Something wasn’t right about the city lost in the cursed woods, or any of its alleged mysteries. It was the only reason he’d come in the first place, with no other lead to Eva’s whereabouts in sight.
“You thought.” She raised a dubious brow. “Well, have you ever thought there could be more to it?”
Daron touched his temple, begging his thoughts to quiet. Every time he saw Kallia’s face in the back of his mind, the knife dug deeper as he remembered her last words. Her last look.