Aris
ELIJAH HAWTHORNE ARRIVED BEFORE DAWN. IF HE THOUGHT IT ODD that Aris
opened the door of Wisteria Gardens and not a servant, he kept his opinions to himself as he followed his son-in-law through the foyer and into a warmly lit parlor where two cups of steaming tea had been set out. Neither man drank theirs, too consumed by the silence.
Elijah’s hands clenched around the handle of his teacup, his knuckles so white that they were nearly colorless as Aris paced before the hearth, unable to sit. It wasn’t as if he could console the man, for what was there to be said? He knew better than to lie to Elijah with sweet words—not when he couldn’t read Blythe’s tapestry to see whether there was any merit to them.
How much easier it would have been if he’d only ignored her from the first day she’d set foot in Wisteria. How unfortunate it was that his blood burned at the thought of her ailment, or that he wished to tear through every tapestry he’d ever woven to hunt down information about why Chaos might possibly be interested in her. Blythe was a leech on his mind, sucking him dry of all rational thoughts. From the time he awoke crafting plans for that day’s adventure to when he set his head upon his pillow and let his mind replay memories of her laughter, she engrossed him, stuck in his head like an inescapable song.
Aris had fallen for someone before, and what a fool he’d been for it. For his life was infinite, and Blythe’s was a short and fragile thing. It would
have been better if she died now, before such feelings ensnared him. She was a parasite, one of which Aris had no idea how to free himself from.
So why was it that he so desperately wanted her to live? To watch her eyes light up when she tasted the richest chocolate, and to see her fall so heartbreakingly in love with the world he thought he’d grown numb to?
Aris has never minded the passing of time. He could go ages before he ever cared enough to glance up from his work and discover how many years had passed. But every moment with Blythe was one in which he found himself wishing that time could be infinite. This girl had dug herself a home beneath his skin, and his body burned every time he earned a smile from her lips.
He despised her for it, and yet he could not pull himself away.
Aris sat straighter when he heard the doctor clambering down the stairs, only vaguely listening as he prattled on about how Blythe was stable. He didn’t wait for the doctor to finish speaking before he pushed past past the man and up the stairs to Blythe’s suite.
Blythe would be fine. She had to be.
Elijah was on his heels as Aris opened the door to Blythe sitting upright in a chair, dressed in a pale muslin gown. She smiled as they entered, but not even a beautiful dress and combed hair could hide the bags beneath her eyes or the way her skin clung to her bones. It didn’t matter how much time she’d put into playing healthy; she couldn’t hide the truth that had Elijah’s eyes darkening.
Aris knew all too well what happened when Chaos struck. He knew of the plagues that befell the world, and the lives that were ruthlessly taken when balance was not kept. It had happened to Mila when Death had tried to keep her alive all those years ago, and now it was coming for Blythe.
But why?
Elijah closed the space between himself and his daughter in three long strides, but when he tried to take her hand, she waved him off.
“I’m well enough not to warrant your fussing,” Blythe said, scratching absently at her cuticles. “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I have no need for coddling.”
It was a lie. Two months unable to stray far from someone made it easy to learn their tells. Aris only ever needed to glance at the skin around her nails to learn Blythe’s truths. “You need rest,” he said. There was a strand of
hair that was threatening to fall into her face. As much as his hand ached to reach out and tuck it behind her ear, he held himself back, gritting his teeth when Elijah brushed it aside instead.
“I can take you to Thorn Grove,” Elijah told his daughter. “You’ll be comfortable there, where we managed to remedy you once before.”
“She wasn’t this ill until she went to Thorn Grove,” Aris argued. He wished with everything in him that he could bite his tongue and stay out of it. That he could let fate take its course before he grew any more attached to this woman.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been physically attracted to a person since Mila’s death, but loathe as he was to admit it, this was more than physical attraction alone. And in the face of it, Aris stood no chance.
“She’ll remain at Wisteria, where I can monitor her.” Aris stepped closer, speaking in a whisper meant only for Elijah. “Try as she may to persuade us otherwise, we both know that she is unwell. There are too many people at Thorn Grove. Too many variables. And if I know your daughter at all, then I’m certain that she will not drop her guard around you, Elijah. She will not relax, because she won’t want you to see her pain.”
For a long while Elijah said nothing, scratching at his nail beds just the same as Blythe. The more Aris witnessed them together, the more he recognized how alike they were. Each was a firecracker concealed by flesh, just waiting for the smallest spark to ignite. The man’s eyes blazed as he looked Aris over, but Aris held steady until the flames within them snuffed out.
“I don’t want to leave her,” he whispered, the words like a soul shattered.
Aris wasn’t sure why he was even bothering to entertain this man. He could let his threads weave around Elijah’s body and throw him out of Wisteria. He could seep his own thoughts deep into the man’s psyche until he trusted Aris more than he trusted anyone. But he’d promised Blythe that he would not touch Elijah, and even had that promise never been made, Aris still wasn’t certain that he would have used his powers. As infuriating as it was, for one reason or another he found himself wanting to impress Elijah Hawthorne. Not only that, but he wanted the man to like him.
It was pathetic how much Aris had fallen.
He stepped closer, clasping Elijah by the arm and bowing his head low.
“I will take care of your daughter, Elijah. I swear it on my life.”
Oh, how he meant it. Despite all his conflicting emotions and terror at the realization of what was happening to him, Aris meant every word. He would find Chaos, and he would burn her alive if that was what it took.
Elijah, too, must have sensed that sincerity, for it was the only reason he was able to peel away.
It took another ten minutes for Elijah to say his goodbyes and ensure that Blythe was not about to keel over on the spot before he could convince himself to leave. When the door shut behind him, Blythe slumped into her seat with the deepest sigh Aris had ever known. Just as he’d expected, she all but crumpled into the pillows, the exhaustion more evident now that her father had left. Aris wondered if perhaps she was a better liar than he’d given her credit for.
“He’s gone?” she asked, breathless despite her position stuffed into the sofa and masquerading as one of the cushions.
“He’s gone,” Aris echoed, moving to sit beside her. Small as she was, somehow she still took up the entire chaise, leaving him only a sliver of an edge to balance himself on. “You should try—”
“Tell me to get some rest again and I will rip out your tongue.” The severity of the threat stalled his words. “I know what happens if I lie in bed while sick. One day I will be molded to it and will spend my days staring at the ceiling and waiting for your brother to come fetch me.”
Aris’s mouth soured at the thought. “That’s not what I was going to say,” he lied. “I was going to suggest that you tell me how you’re truly feeling and how you’d like to spend your day.”
Her eyes sparked, and good God did he feel it like a lightning strike to his core. He swallowed, hands balled into fists at his side to steady the emotion. How easily he had allowed himself to get wrapped up in this girl. This beautiful, deplorable wife of his.
She was meant to be the bane of his existence. A hindrance to his every waking moment. So why was it that seeing that spark in her eyes felt like it had awoken something within him? Why was it that he felt the need to earn that look over and over again and draw delight from those pretty lips?
He was meant to be looking for Mila. And yet in that moment Aris feared all the things he might do to please this woman before him. This infernal, infuriating creature.
“I need to see Signa,” she told him, but Aris only shook his head.
“Give me your day,” he said. “See Signa this evening if you must, but give me your day.”
While Blythe looked primed to argue, something halted the words on her tongue. Aris wondered what she might be thinking. Whether she, too, felt the same conflict warring in her heart. The same draw to him as he did her. Aris knew that she did physically, at least, for she was young and curious and horrible at concealing the emotions on her face.
Whether it was beyond that physical attraction, however… Aris’s throat constricted at the thought, unsure if he wanted to find out.
“Then take me somewhere,” Blythe whispered. “Do not keep me locked away like some fragile heirloom, Aris. If I’m to give you my day, then take me away from here and show me something that only you can.”
He did not care for the way her words sounded like a final plea. Though he had every instinct to lock her away in an effort to keep her safe, if Blythe wanted to see the world, then he would show her the world. Whether she realized it or not, he was putty between her palms. He would spend every minute plucking the stars from the sky to deliver a bouquet of constellations if that’s what it took to please her.
Because the truth of it could no longer be ignored. For the second time in his life, Aris Dryden was falling in love. Only this time, he prayed that fate would be on his side.
