Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(20)

“Okay. But I didn’t get anything for you.”

Not when I wasn’t sure if I was even coming to Havenfall until that last moment at the bus station.

His eyes and teeth shine as he smiles. “That’s all right. I’m here, that’s enough.”

I lean closer to him without quite meaning to. These three months with him every year are all I get. No pictures or videos to remember him by, and it’s not like I can talk about him to anyone at home. Yeah, I have a crush on this guy. He’s a fairy-elf-warrior type. Gorgeous, stoic, not much of a sense of humor, but that might be because they don’t have sarcasm in his world. And he doesn’t think I’m a freak, so that’s a plus.

He produces a deck of cards from his breast pocket. It has gilt images on the back. “Cards of the Caves?” he asks, and I nod, because this is another of our traditions. A silly game, a kids’ game, but it makes my heart beat faster because it’s ours.

“So,” he asks, grinning as he cuts the deck into two equal stacks and hands one to me. “Anything happen this year?”

He puts one card down. Appropriately, it’s Fiordenkill, the white flowering tree on the back suggesting their blood and plant magic.

It’s the same question he always asks, but there’s no way I’m telling him about the thing, not at all. The words—death penalty—are cold, heavy, ugly, final. They have no place here under the stars, between us. I put down another card—Tural, from the centaur silhouette. Brekken grins and takes both cards, setting them down at his side. Fiordenkill beat Tural in that war, leading to the centaurs deciding to close off their portal. So it went in history, so it goes in the game.

I shrug off the loss and throw the question back at him. “You tell me.” I pat the uniform cloak beneath us. Sleek black fur, like mink, ripples under my palm. “What does a soldier do in a queendom at peace?”

I slap down another card and bite my lip to stop the shudder. It’s the picture of a silver goblet filled with wine, or maybe blood. It represents Solaria.

“Soldiers are always needed.” Brekken takes a sip of wine, passes the bottle to me. “The High Court …” He trails off, his fingers brushing mine. “There always seems to be some sort of issue. Good to have an army on hand.” He glances up at me, and I try to ignore the undercurrent of something unreadable in his voice. “What was the Silver Prince talking about earlier? About you being unhappy?”

He puts down another card, an insignia made of the four elements, for Byrn. This win is mine.

My chest tightens. “It’s just my uncle.” Now it’s my turn to look down, not wanting to see Brekken’s reaction. “He thinks, I don’t know, that I don’t understand the risks of being here.” I remember the Silver Prince’s words earlier, delivered with such surety. Danger is familiar to you. “But I do. Understand, I mean. And I don’t care.”

Brekken looks down, fiddling with the wine cork, flipping it between his fingers. “I always wondered, you know. Why do you keep coming back here, when this is where the Solarian monster got through, the one that …?” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. We both know how it ends. The one that killed my brother.

“Well, it’s not like Havenfall is more or less dangerous than anywhere else,” I say, going for lightness. “There could be Solarians anywhere on Earth—sorry, Haven—if they were here when the door to Solaria closed. And anyway, if there are any of them left, I think I’m safer here than anywhere else.” I punch him lightly on the arm. “Seeing as how I have a brave, strong soldier to protect me and all.”

Brekken smiles. “I would, you know.”

“Would what?”

I’m distracted, putting down another card. Haven—a scale on top of a sword—to his Solaria. Mine again.

“Protect you.”

The seriousness in his voice catches me off guard. He’s earnest, just stating a fact. He’s witnessed a lot of my human feelings over the years—from weeping over Nate to raging at my mom—and still doesn’t quite know how to deal with it, doesn’t grasp the concept of deflecting with humor. But in a weird way I appreciate it. That means whatever I hear from him is the truth. Not the fake platitudes humans rush to give each other at the first hint of discomfort. No one thinks you’re crazy. Everything will be okay.

Instead, Brekken slides toward me and puts his arm around me, and I lean in, even though his body is cool compared to mine. I put the cards aside, grateful not to have to think about Solaria anymore, though it feels silly to admit this even to myself.

His voice comes softly. “So why do you keep coming back? You have a whole world to explore.”

His words are wistful. Everything about Haven fascinates him, from the cars to the diner food to the idea of the post office. But the ancient protective magic ends at the edge of town; he can’t go farther. Just like I can’t go into Fiordenkill—it would be a game of what would get me first, the air or the enforcers.

“There are other reasons I come back. The magic. Seeing you.” I make my voice deliberately offhand on the last two words, a little dizzied by the wine, or maybe it’s how close he is. “Anyway, Marcus doesn’t have kids. Who will run this place when he’s gone?”

“Do you want that?”