A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(5)

I smiled at Leigh. “I see why you’re so in love with Jace. He’s got all the good intel.”

My mother bit back a smile. So much for not poking fun. Force of habit.

Leigh frowned and launched into a tirade about how she obviously didn’t have any romantic feelings for this boy. I grinned, knowing that song and dance all too well.

Stories like Jace’s cousin’s were always floating around. Especially in relation to Willowridge, Onyx’s mysterious capital city. The night before Halden left, he had told me it was rumored to be filled with all kinds of monstrous creatures. Dragons, goblins, ogres—I could tell he was trying to spook me, hoping I might nestle myself into the safety of his embrace and allow him to protect me from whatever was beyond our kingdom’s barriers.

But it hadn’t frightened me at all. I knew how those tales went. Men, built up in story after story, twisted by retellings into some horrific beast, wielding unknown powers and capable of untold torment. In reality, they were just… men. Evil, power-hungry, corrupt, debauched, men. Nothing more, nothing less, and none worse than the one who had lived in my own home. My stepfather was more vicious and cruel than any monster from a story.

I didn’t know if that truth would have brought Halden more or less fear on the day he and Ryder were sent off to war. It definitely wouldn’t help me if Leigh and I were forced into battle next.

Truth was, our King Gareth was doing the best he could, but Onyx had a far superior army, better weapons, stronger allies, and I’m sure countless other advantages I knew nothing about. I could promise that Onyx wasn’t winning this war because of some big bad that went bump in the night.

My mother’s sigh brought my thoughts back from wicked, winged creatures to our warm, wooden kitchen. The last dregs of daylight were slipping across the room, leaving the dancing flames of the hearth to cast her sallow face in shadow.

“My rose is this stew, and my two beautiful girls sitting in front of me. My kind, responsible Arwen.” She turned to Leigh, “My bold, brave Leigh.”

I gulped. Ice ran through my veins. I knew what was coming next.

“And my thorn is my son, who I miss so, so dearly. But it’s been a year since we’ve heard from him. I think,” she breathed. “I think it’s time we accepted that he—”

“Is fine,” I interrupted her. “Ryder is fine. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to get a letter out in the conditions he could be in.”

“Arwen,” my mother started, her voice warm and comforting and making my skin itch with its gentleness.

But I babbled over her. “Can you imagine trying to send a letter to a small town like ours from a jungle? Or, or… a forest? From the middle of an ocean? Who knows where he is?” I was starting to sound hysterical.

“It makes me so sad too, Arwen,” Leigh’s little voice was even harder to bear. “But I think Mother may be right.”

“It’s healthy to talk about it,” Mother said, taking my hand in hers. “How much we miss him, how hard it will be to continue on without him.”

I bit my lip; their serious faces were cleaving me in two. I knew they were right. But saying it out loud…

As soothing as her touch was, I pulled my hand away and turned to face the window, letting the evening breeze whisper over my face, and closing my eyes to the cool sensation.

My lungs filled with dusk air.

I couldn’t be the one to make this harder for them.

Wrapping my hands around my bowl to quell their shaking, I turned back to face my only remaining family.

“You’re right. It’s unlikely he’s—”

The deafening sound of our front door slamming open caused the bowl I was holding to jump from my hands and shatter on the floor. Bright orange splattered everywhere like fresh blood. I spun and saw my mother’s face go slack with shock. In front of us, breathing heavily, face bloodied and leaning into the door frame to support a twisted arm, stood my brother, Ryder.





TWO


For a moment, nobody moved. Then, we all moved at once.

I shot to my feet, heart in my throat, pulse pounding in my ears. Ryder’s pain was clear across his face, and my mother lunged for him, tears welling in her eyes. Leigh scrambled to shut the door behind us as I helped them both to the table.

Relief, profound and overwhelming, coursed through me. I could barely stand at the onslaught of emotion.

He was alive.

I swallowed a deep inhale and considered my brother. His cropped, sandy hair, bright blue eyes like stars, his wiry, lanky frame. He looked so foreign in our small home now—too dirty and thin.

Leigh pushed our bowls from the table to the side, and climbed directly on top of it, sitting right in front of him. Ryder’s eyes were laced with joy but flickered with something else. Something darker.

I waited for the dust of shock to settle, but my heart continued to beat so fast that it felt like my rib cage was rattling.

“Look how big you are!” Ryder said to Leigh, one hand still pressed to his other arm.

Bandages. He needed bandages.

I flung through our drawers until I found some, then grabbed a blanket and water for him too.

“Here,” I said, wrapping the blanket around Ryder roughly and kissing the top of his head, careful to avoid his shoulder.

“What’s wrong with you? Why are you back early?” Leigh asked, frantic. “Arwen, what’s wrong with him? What’s happening? Mother?”