My heart gives a little clench. “I bet you didn’t count on the psychopathic mother.”
A rough laugh escapes him. “Evil mother notwithstanding, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. When all you’ve ever known is darkness, you don’t regret a single ray of light, Vi. And you’ll fight to keep it in your life, no matter what comes your way.”
“I think you’ve been talking with Finn too much,” I joke. “That’s the sort of epic poetry he comes up with.”
Thiago looks at me. Simply looks.
And I know I tend to shy away whenever he speaks of love, because a little piece of me feels uncomfortable—perhaps even unworthy still—when he says words like that.
He clasps my hand on his chest, forcing me to still. I don’t know why, but my heart is racing.
“I love you,” I blurt.
It’s hardly poetic. I don’t think I’m getting better with practice.
“You believed in me, even when I didn’t,” I whisper. “And you make me believe that there’s something worth loving in me.”
Thiago’s eyes darken. But he kisses me again, and the hunger of his mouth tells me everything he doesn’t put into words.
Something pushes against my hand, and a swirl of intense blackness ripples across his chest, as if the Darkness doesn’t like being ignored.
“Were you born with it?” I whisper.
Thiago sits up, raking a hand through his hair, his spine bowed. “I’ll tell you the truth….” Reluctance bleeds through every inch of him. “But not here. Come.”
He slips from the bed, tattoos rippling down his spine as if they’re delighted to have their story told.
Chapter Nineteen
The temple is ancient—carved alabaster glowing beneath the moon. The storm rolled over the city and now everything is wet. Every step I take leaves a trail of grass and flowers peeking through the cobbles.
Maia’s sigil—a golden sun rippling between a pair of mountains—is carved over the lintel. Even though it’s the middle of the night, the doors remain open because Maia always has time for her worshippers.
An inner courtyard gleams beneath the light of the moon, but I’m told the temple is best viewed by sunlight, for there are hidden arches that correspond with where the sun sits in the sky, and depending on whether it’s solstice or not, they light up little secret glyphs carved into the cobblestones.
Acolytes move about the temple, gowned in pure white. They’re fae maidens that have given their life to Maia, though there’ll be fae youths somewhere about the temple too. Maia was renowned for welcoming virile young men to her bed, and several of her rites tend to get… a little hedonistic.
“Is there a reason we’re here?” I ask Thiago as he gestures me over the lintel.
Maia’s Flame can ward away the darkest of spirits, but surely he’s not afraid of what he’s about to say.
“I think it’s easier if I show you,” he murmurs, leading me deeper into the temple.
We slip past one of the fountains. Golden coins wink within. Toss a coin to Maia, and she may just answer your prayers. Judging from the glimmer of golden light within the waters, a great many practitioners have knelt by this fountain. One of the cobblestones in front of it even looks a little more worn than the others.
And then we’re through the outer courtyards and facing the enormous golden doors that guard the heart of the temple.
All the past queens of Evernight are entombed within these walls as an honor for those who ruled with a fair and benevolent hand. Portraits hang in the Queen’s Gallery that reveal the identity of those within, and it’s there that Thiago leads me.
The tombs have been walled away, but I catch a glimpse of the first of Evernight’s queens staring down at me, with three moons in the sky behind her. A golden halo of light gilds her raven-dark hair. Queen Laerah was the third of Maia’s daughters and granted the lands that make up Evernight, though it was called by a different name when she ruled it.
Evernight only came into use once the north was cursed to an ever-present twilight.
I’ve seen the same painting in Hawthorne Castle, though the painting there is of her sister Rosia, the original Queen of Thorns, and instead of a halo of light, she wears a glowing crown of thorns.
Next to Laerah is her daughter, and then her granddaughter, and so on….
I can’t help searching the faces hungrily.
In my mother’s court, we rarely spoke of the Kingdom of Evernight, unless it was with hate. I barely know any of my new kingdom’s history, and I can’t help mouthing the names of those ancient queens: Bardh, Aleyna, Grenweih….
We reach the end of the walkway, where Queen Araya’s tomb is enshrined, and Thiago’s footsteps slow.
This is the queen he served.
And the queen it’s alleged that he murdered—though he explained the truth of that moment to me. He was the first to find her, but believes one of her sons struck the mortal blow.
There’s a plaque on the wall, but unlike the other queens, a red velvet curtain covers her portrait.
“I ordered her portrait hidden away from the world,” he whispers, staring at the velvet drapes. “They say it’s further proof of my guilt but….” Shaking his head, he reaches up to reverently brush his fingers against the velvet curtain hiding the alcove. Little runes flare to life on either side of the curtains, chiseled into the stone themselves, but they fade when they recognize him. “I couldn’t destroy it, but I was tired of maintaining the illusion that shielded my face. Once the first generation of fae folk passed into the Bright Lands, I knew the chances of someone seeing the truth were slimmer. I let the illusion slip, inch by
