The Dark Calling (The Arcana Chronicles #5)(17)

Besides, no fate is fixed. I refused to believe what the Fool had told me.

I made my way into the bathroom to splash water on my face. After drying my skin, I gazed at myself in the mirror.

Stubble. Hair too long. Eyes brimming with satisfaction.

I murmured in disbelief, “I’m going to be a father.”

She’d once told me I treated my books like my children. I’d replied, “The closest I’ll ever come to having them.” No longer.

Me, a father.

How would I protect my family? How would I feed them for a lifetime? It falls to me. In my wildest dreams, I’d never considered the possibility of a child when sourcing for the future.

Paul had prepared a list of items critical for this pregnancy and a newborn. Only one place would have them all—the Sick House, a settlement of sorts to the east. I would set out once the storm broke.

Guilt over my servant’s fate arose, but I shoved it away.

After drying my hands, I stared at them. Death’s touch. My touch. What if I can’t hold my own child?

My wedding ring glinted, drawing my focus. Calm suffused me. With her by my side, we could weather anything.

“Aric?” she sleepily called from the bed. Her softly amorous voice made my muscles tense and my pulse race. I could see it so clearly: she had reached for me in need and found only my pillow.

“Coming, love,” I called back. I would be a good father to our child, but first and foremost, I would always be her devoted husband.

Tomorrow we would have myriad cares and worries—an exile and the fallout from that. Tonight I would count my blessings: a loving wife and a baby on the way.

I took one last look at the mirror to gaze upon the most fortunate man I’d ever known.





8


The Empress

Day 529 A.F.





“You might as well put a bullet in his skull,” Lark sniped at me when we’d all gathered in the courtyard to jettison Paul.

The blizzard had ended on this very day. The winds had died down to silence, and the snow no longer fell. But the black sky and thick cloud deck glowed intermittently from unseen lightning bolts. The river, a gleaming expanse of solid ice, reflected them.

Finn patted Lark’s gloved hand, muttering, “’S cool, babe. Everything’s chill.”

I received no such gesture of support from Aric. He stood stiffly beside me, dressed in armor, as if Paul deserved a uniformed send-off.

The medic lingered at the perimeter gate with his shoulders hunched. He wore snow gear and a backpack—kindnesses from Aric.

I hugged my own ski jacket around me. “No one’s killing anybody,” I told Lark, though Aric’s words filtered through my mind: Exile equals execution.

When she and I had prepared breakfast earlier, her bearing had been frostier than the landscape. The meal had been just as strained. None of us had eaten much except for Finn, who’d merrily chomped down everything, including the frozen ham I’d burned.

He must’ve made himself sick. His color was off, and sweat beaded on his forehead, even in the frigid air.

When he loosened his scarf, I said, “You okay?”

“Let’s get this show on the road, huh.” His impatience surprised me. His only hope for walking without a crutch was about to walk away.

“Call it what you want,” Lark told me. “If Joules and Gabe are on the verge of biting it out there, you know this means certain death for a lone mortal.”

Good. He was a murderer.

Paul cleared his throat. With his brows drawn, he said, “I’m to head out into the Ash, then? Where will I go?”

I was more convinced than ever that his whole demeanor was an act. “Not our concern. Leave. Now.”

His voice broke as he told Aric, “Sir, I . . . I’m scared.”

Damn it, that admission tugged even at my sympathy. What if I was wrong about him?

I’d been wrong before—epically. I’d tried to run away from the game: wrong. I hadn’t listened to wise cards like Aric and Circe when I’d gone to rescue Selena from the Lovers: wrong. Richter had burned her anyway, laying waste to Jack’s army in the process.

Though I hated and mistrusted Paul, the responsibility for killing a mortal weighed on me.

I needed Aric to take my hand and offer support. Instead, I could feel his disappointment in me. After last night, I’d thought we’d be united in this.

Finally, he spoke: “This isn’t right.”

“Seriously, Aric?” He rarely reversed himself. “What happened to trusting me? What happened to following where I lead?”

“Then choose the correct path! Will you show no mercy, Empress?”

“Empress?” I couldn’t remember the last time he’d addressed me like that. “What is wrong with you?”

Paul called, “Please don’t fight over me. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you, sir, for over a year of protection. It’s more than most received.” He turned to go, heading down the drive.

He took one step farther away. Another. With a last look, he strode out of sight.

Finally! Good riddance.

But Aric said, “No, no, this is all wrong.”

“Let him go.” With Paul out of our lives, I’d be able to lower my guard; I would take the leap. “Please, Aric!”