The Raven King (The Raven Boys #4)(85)

Adam shut the door and lightly pounded his fist three times on the roof. Then he went to the other side of the car, opened the door, made sure Noah wasn’t in there, and climbed in.

As Ronan watched him, he fumbled around with the seat controls until he found the one that made it recline all the way, and then he clawed for Ronan’s Aglionby jacket. Both it and the Orphan Girl were hopelessly balled up among the other things in the backseat – the Orphan Girl snuffled and pushed the jacket towards his hand. He wadded it beneath his neck as a pillow, draping the sleeve over his eyes to block out the streetlight.

“Wake me up if you have to,” he said, and closed his eyes.

Inside 300 Fox Way, Blue watched Gansey let himself be convinced to stay there instead of returning to Monmouth for the night. Even though there were now plenty of empty beds in the house, he took the couch, accepting just a quilt and a pillow with a light pink pillowcase. His eyes weren’t closed by the time she went upstairs and put herself to bed in her own room. Everything felt too quiet inside the house, with everyone gone, and too loud outside the house, with everything menacing.

She did not sleep. She thought of her father becoming one with a tree, and she thought about Gansey sitting in the Camaro with his head ducked, and she thought about the whispered voice of the dark sleeper she’d encountered in the cave. Things felt like they were spooling to the end.

Sleep, she told herself.

Gansey slept in a room a dozen feet below her. It should not have mattered – it did not matter. But she could not stop thinking of the nearness of him, the impossibility of him. The promise of his death.

She was dreaming. It was dark. Her eyes didn’t get used to it; her heart did. There was no light to speak of. It was so completely dark that eyes were unimportant. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure she had eyes. This was a strange idea. What did she have?

Cool damp at her feet. No. Her roots. Stars pressing down above her, so close that they could surely be reachable if only she grew a few more inches. A warm, vital skin of bark.

This was the shape of her soul. This was what she had been missing. This was how she felt in her human skin, tree-shaped feelings in a human body. What a slow, stretching joy.

Jane?

Gansey was there. He must have been there all along, because now that she thought about it, she couldn’t stop sensing him there. She was something more; he was still human. He was a king stolen away into this tree by the tir e e’lint that was Blue. She was all around him. The joy from her previous revelation overlapped slowly on to this joy. He was still alive, she had him with her, she was as close to him as she could possibly be.

Where are we?

We’re a tree. I’m a tree. You’re – haha I can’t say that. It would be filthy.

Are you laughing?

Yes, because I’m happy.

Slowly, her joy tapered, though, as she felt his rapid pulse against her. He was afraid.

What are you afraid of?

I don’t want to die.

This felt true, but it was hard to put together thoughts with any speed. This tree was just as ill-fitted to her essential Blueness as her human body. She remained half one, half the other.

Can you see if Ronan has come in from the car?

I can try. I don’t really have eyes.

She stretched out with all of the senses available to her. They were ever so much better than her human ones, but they were interested in very different things. It was exceptionally difficult to focus on the affairs of the humans around the base of the trunk. She had not properly appreciated how much effort it had taken the trees to attend to their needs before now.

I don’t know. She held him tightly, loving him and keeping him. We could just stay here.

I love you, Blue, but I know what I have to do. I don’t want to. But I know what I have to do.





All of the sounds and smells of Fox Way were magnified after dark, when all of its human occupants were quiet. All of the fragrant teas and candles and spices became more distinct, each declaring their origin, when in daytime they mingled into something Gansey had only previously identified as Fox Way. Now it struck him as something both powerful and homey, secret and knowing. This house was a place of magic, same as Cabeswater, but one had to listen harder for it. Gansey lay on the couch with a quilt over him, his eyes closed against the dark, and listened to the rattle of air or breath through a vent somewhere, to the scratch of leaves or nails against a window somewhere, to the thump of popping wood or footsteps from the other room.

He opened his eyes, and there was Noah.

This was Noah without any daylight to cloud what he really had become. He was very close, because he had forgotten that the living could not focus on things closer than three inches. He was very cold, because he now required massive amounts of energy to remain visible. He was very afraid, and because Gansey was afraid, their thoughts tangled.

Gansey kicked off the quilt. He tied on his shoes and put on his jacket. Quietly, taking great care to tread lightly on these old floors, he followed Noah out of the living room. He didn’t turn on any lights, because his mind was still tossed together with Noah’s, and he was using Noah’s eyes, which no longer cared if it was dark or not. The dead boy didn’t take him outside, as he’d expected, however, but up the stairs to the second floor. For the first half of the stairs, Gansey thought that he was being led on Noah’s usual haunt around the house, and for the second, he thought that he was being taken to Blue. But Noah passed her door and instead waited at the base of the attic stairs.