Witherstone- Wings of My Legion

  THE GALDORVORE CHRONICLES

  ~BOOK THREE~

  WITHERSTONE

  A Wings of My Legion Novel

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be used in any manner (digital, print, etc.) without the written consent of the author.

  Each character and each event within this book are entirely fictitious. Any likeness to a real person, whether alive or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.

  Cover design by Ira-Rebeca at Rebecacovers.

  Text ownership belongs solely to the author.

  Elizabeth Holland

  December 2019

  WITHERSTONE

  A Wings of My Legion Novel

  By Elizabeth Holland

  DREAMING AWAY

  GREYHART

  THE BEWILDERMENT

  THE END OF SPRING

  DRUMMING

  THE TALE OF THE YESTER YEW

  THE KING’S MARK

  BY CANDLELIGHT

  FORESIGHT

  SMOKE AND MIRRORS

  MIND THE HEART

  ABSOLUTE

  LIONESS

  ENLIGHTENED

  ISLE LORE

  BLACK BLOOD

  FOREST OF SOULS

  THE QUELLING

  LIGHT, LOVE, MAGIC

  DREAMING AWAY

  The bumps in the back alley drew my attention from the sky. Ahead of me sat the bookstore, the dark red bricks of the southern wall, and a yearning for my mother. Never before had I been so terrified. Not when in Lorcan’s grasp, not when the darkness came swirling out of me. No. Here, facing the potential loneliness that came with moving out of my childhood home, I felt complete and utter fear.

  “I know you want to do this,” my aunt smiled as she waved her hand toward the building. The air was warm enough that I could have my window down on the drive over. I put the car in park and then shut off the engine. My aunt had been at the bookstore all morning waiting for a shipment of journals. “And I know I can’t talk you out of it,” she wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Yeah, but Aunt Cressa—,” I stepped out of my car, and my aunt grabbed the door in place.

  “Don’t explain your feelings,” she leaned, her frizzy, loose curls fluttering in the breeze. “I saw this day coming.” I grinned at the idea of her intuition. “So, I asked your brother to renovate the apartment this past year,” she said. “You’re going to love it!” she beamed. I followed her eagerly toward the metal stairs that ran up the right side of the back door. I stood for a couple seconds as I remembered the pain I had inflicted upon Cole right in that very spot. “Come on!” my aunt ushered me along.

  Up to the top step, we paused at the landing. I could already see my brother’s influence on the place. The door, once tattered from neglect, was now an inviting shade of cream. The handle was new, as were the pink tulips in the wooden pot near our feet. I just shook my head as a smile crept over my face. “How did I not notice this?”

  “He was finishing it off when you went into the portal,” she explained. “How else do you think I got those heated dragons to calm down.”

  “So, has Elliot been here?” I wondered as I ran my hand over the door. The paint was still glossy and smooth.

  “A couple of times. He left a few things inside for you,” her eyes flicked toward the window as though she was looking deep into the apartment. “Now, I told Dylan not to go overboard, but…” she warned as she turned the key and opened the door. I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. The apartment, a three-hundred square-foot, studio apartment, was nothing like I had remembered. My brother had not only updated the entirety—every inch—of the place, but he somehow managed to capture everything that I loved within those four walls.

  I stepped inside and drew in a long breath. I could smell the fresh woodwork, the lingering scent of new upholstery, and of course, the pureness of the wind coming from the partially opened window to the north. And for a moment, I thought I could see Elliot there near the curtain.

  “He wanted to be here,” my aunt spoke candidly, tugging me from the mirage.

  “Who?” I asked, thinking only of Elliot.

  “Dylan,” she shrugged. “He wanted to see your reaction.” I gave a nod. “Well? Take a look around,” she urged. “I’m going downstairs for a little while. We can get your things later.”

  “Sounds good,” I agreed.

  My aunt then came close and looked me over with glossed over eyes. “Your mother would be proud. So very proud.”

  After my aunt shut the door, all I could think about was how much my mother would undoubtedly be proud of Dylan. Facing the opened window to the north, I scanned the living space. There was a loveseat along the eastern wall, which was decorated in various pictures from Frostmoor. They weren’t overly noticeable, most of them were plain enough that any average person wouldn’t realize the true nature of the landscape. But one caught my eye immediately. It was a black and white photo of a storefront, a bakery to be exact. And from the little window on the left, I could barely make out the table where Elliot and I had eaten breakfast the morning after we first were together. The memory was so fresh, so inviting, that I felt chills crawl up my arms and onto my neck. With eyes full, I sat directly onto the loveseat and let it swallow me whole.

  Just in reach sat the coffee table. A sturdy piece of furniture with bright grains and wide feet. There was a small plant sitting off-center, along with a copy of Through the Looking Glass to the right. The rug at my feet was pure white, and I wondered how I’d ever keep it clean. I kicked off my flats and felt the lengthy fibers between my toes. Long, bright planks of hardwood flooring ran east to west beneath the rug. It brought a soft honey glow to the rest of the apartment, inviting and comforting just like a home should be.

  Straight ahead to the western wall was the kitchen. It was incredibly adorable. The wall itself held a miniature fridge, a two-burner stove, and a single sink. The open shelves above held various eclectic dishes in shades of pink and cream. And when I noticed the towels hanging over the sink in the same colors, I had to smile. I got up and went to the counter that sat right before the little kitchen space. There were three stools with high wooden backs and pink cushions. On the counter was a basket of pears. I went around and stood within the kitchen space and examined the drawers of the counter. To the left was a wastebasket, hidden from sight. On the right side were separate baskets filled with potatoes and onions. I went to the fridge to see what else my brother had bought for me, and I found a nice surprise. In the center of the well-stocked fridge was a little tin of blueberry cheesecake and a note. It read: No salvia, promise.

  As much as I wanted to dive into that cake, something was stopping me. I just sort of stood there, staring at the tin while my stomach began to turn. Another chill went up over my body and trickled down to my toes. I rushed toward the bathroom, shoved open the door, and I lifted the toilet lid just in time. Afterward, I found a toothbrush on the sink and cracked the window for air.

  The bed was what caught my eye next. Standing with my back to the bathroom door, a room that was tucked in behind the eastern wall, I stared over the lavish bedroom area. A cream-colored, insanely soft curtain hung around the bed, and those little string lights that I adore—in a soft pink glow, no less—hung along the top of the canopy and streamed down the sides. It couldn’t have been more perfect. I stepped closer and pulled the curtain open a little more than what it was. The bed was on a custom platform that fit the mattress just perfectly. There were even built-in bedposts and a backboard with a beautiful shelf. Above that was a little window. There were big pillows and small pillows, and a thick comforter adorned in tiny pink roses in a watercolor print style
. I crawled over the bedding and laid my head on one of the bigger pillows as I gazed to the window. Again, I thought of Elliot.

  It wasn’t ever simple with the Lord of Warriors. I couldn’t just text him, I couldn’t call him. The barrier alone made that impossible, not to mention the lack of electricity. And it wasn’t unknown to me that he was in pain. Whether the bond we shared kept me aware, or just the fact that I knew his real nature now, his suffering was a reality that he had to face. Alone.

  I leaned back and exhaled. With my hand over my eyes, I could see him in my mind. Hair flickering in the wind, eyes so blue I could almost smell the cold winter air, a curl of his lips… oh god. I felt my stomach turn again, but this time I was able to breathe through it. Why didn’t I go with him? I wondered. How could I leave him alone like this? And here is when my phone vibrated. I nearly dropped it in the air as I yanked it from my back pocket. Holding it up before me as I half-leaned to my elbow, I read the text, Like it? from Charlotte. I grunted and turned to bury my face in the bed.

  After a few seconds, I pulled a pillow up under my neck and thought of how I could speak to Elliot. How in the world, short of traveling to Frostmoor, would I be able to ask him how he’s feeling? To tell him that things will be alright in time? My brother was in an endless slumber, my dad had returned with Elliot. Not even Julian was near. I had no one to talk to about the whole mess. Well, no dragons anyway. And that was all I could think about. I was the only dragon in town, and it made me feel even more isolated than before.

  Again, my phone vibrated. I’m bringing pizza. Charlotte sent. Spinach or pineapple? I replied, Spinach. I tossed my phone over to the side of the bed and stared at the far window near the kitchen. And for a second, I thought I could see Elliot just like when I first came in. I sat up right away and focused through the wavering canopy curtain as the breeze grew.

  “Elliot?” I slid to the edge of the bed as his body seemed to filter into my world and become solid. But as I stood and went toward the window, he was gone. Just gone.

  “I’m crashing here, just so you know,” my sister laughed as she opened the pizza box on the counter. It had been over an hour since I first stepped into the apartment.

  “I love it.”

  “I know,” she grinned, handing me a paper plate. After taking a bite, she turned to the fridge and said, “Perfect. I told him to get some lemonade.” We sat there at the counter and ate like we hadn’t eaten in days. But I kept sighing; I couldn’t help myself. I was incredibly happy; the apartment was fantastic. I couldn’t want anything else, right? “What is it?”

  I set the pizza slice down and breathed out. “I miss him,” I mumbled. I caught a shiver from the window, and my sister went straight over and pulled it shut.

  “He’s in good hands. Ruby’s hands, I hear,” she grinned. “Oh, and Master… Maxwell, I think, found a way to prolong the sedation and keep Dune from waking until we’re ready.”

  “It’s Bramwell,” I corrected. “But that’s great!” Biting my lip, I had a tremble of chills again.

  “Dylan’s truly safe,” she nodded, and though I missed him a lot, Dylan wasn’t the person I was thinking about just then.

  “Thanks, but I actually meant Elliot.”

  “Oh.”

  “I hate that I have no idea how he is,” I leaned back. “What if he’s hurting? What if he wants to give up?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Elliot won’t ever quit on anything.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I just wish I could see him.”

  My sister, quick to jump from her seat, gasped in excitement. She left the apartment so fast I couldn’t ask her what she was doing. In about thirty seconds, she returned with a few things from downstairs.

  “What’s all this for?” I asked her as she spread the items out on the coffee table.

  “I can send you there,” her eyes brightened as she smiled.

  “What?”

  “I can, like, send your mind to him,” she clarified. “It’s called projection.” Setting the candles into a triangle on the coffee table, my sister explained. “He won’t see you, and you can’t talk to him, I’m not strong enough for that yet,” she sighed. “But,” she clapped her hands together and danced on her toes, “you’ll be able to see that he’s alright.”

  I have to admit, I was a little doubtful. My sister, a wonderfully gorgeous faerie, had never truly used her enchantress magic. As far as I knew, she was unaware of how to properly be an enchantress. But she was eager and excited, and I wanted nothing more than to know that Elliot was fine.

  “How does it work?”

  “Okay, so I do the spell, and you just sit here perfectly silent and still.”

  “And then?”

  “I’ll tell you when to open your eyes,” she advised. “And you’ll be with him.” I gave a nod. Charlotte started to light the candles when she asked, “Do you have something of his?”

  “Uh,” I glanced around the room, and I was sure she had the same thought as me. Everything in the apartment was new and untouched. Nothing had ever belonged to anyone yet. “What about something he gave to me?”

  “Sure, yeah,” she nodded. I lifted my hair from my shoulders and pulled it to the left. Up over my head came the necklace Elliot had given to me in Frostmoor. The metal pendant was warm in my hands as I leaned over and gave the item to my sister. “Love,” her brow wrinkled as she examined the necklace. Her eyes found mine as she continued, “There’s a lot of love in this.”

  She set the necklace into the center of the candles and then reached out for my hands. Together we sat there on the loveseat and closed our eyes. “Be very still,” she said. I swallowed, and then I sat tall, tightening my crossed legs beneath me. Quietly, my sister chanted the words, “Anoo la carelore.” Almost like a whisper, almost a muttering, Charlotte said these words about nine times, and then she stopped. “Open your eyes,” she spoke to me. I took in a deep breath and then I opened my eyes. And there he was. Sweating, bleeding, grinding his teeth in pain… Elliot was in the woods, caged in the ice-covered branches under a bright, waxing moon. His torment startled me so profoundly that I jolted backward and lost my grip on Charlotte’s hands. “What happened?” she begged me for an explanation.

  “I’m sorry,” I spoke fast and out of breath. I had to stand to my feet, I had to pace the room.

  “What did you see?”

  “What I didn’t want to see,” I shook my head as my eyes glossed over. “I did this to him.”

  “He’s always been like this,” Charlotte argued as she met me near the counter. “You helped to liberate him.”

  “He’s out there, breaking his bones, cutting his skin,” I shuddered as I recalled the sight. “He’s in agony because of me.”

  “Irene, he was going to have to face this darkness at some point in his life,” Charlotte rocked me, her hands firm on my arms. I, however, was only feeling the tremble that had started to build beneath my skin. “What if he kept bottling it up? What kind of pain would he have felt after another ten years of this? Or twenty?”

  “I know, I know,” I shook my hands out as a fever seemed to rush over me. I covered my eyes with my hands and breathed through the returning nausea.

  “Just try to relax,” my sister told as she went to get us more to drink. “You can revisit him anytime,” she shut the fridge and sat back on the loveseat. “Just tell me when and I’ll be here.”

  I nodded as she blew out the candles. “Thanks.”

  That night was about as hard as I could expect. I knew that being alone for the first time in my adulthood would be difficult. I had spent nights alone before, of course. Times over the summer when Charlotte would stay with Caleb, and my aunt would be in Talon Grove. It was weird, but it was never unnerving. My first night in the apartment, however, was exactly that. After my sister left, I sort of just sat around for a bit, and then I decided to walk down the block for a coffee. The sight of Elliot was still fresh in my mind, and returning to
the apartment with only that to keep me company made it harder. But after ordering my favorite white mocha, and after chatting nicely to the barista for a minute about the warm weather, I reluctantly went back to my apartment. My apartment. I never really thought I’d be saying that. When I was young, I always thought of having a sweet little home somewhere close to my mother. With lots of dark green grass and rose bushes in deep red. I could clearly see the swing in the backyard, and the stone patio where Cole and I would sit and watch the sunset. Living in the city was about as far from that idea as possible. And Cole… well, I was better off leaving him to his studies.

  I closed the door and locked the bolt. The apartment was a comforting blob of pink, and it made me sleepy and eager at the same time. I didn’t need to clean anything, it was all new. I didn’t need to cook or wash clothes. I checked my phone a few times as I rummaged through the music on the shelves. Again, the thought of Elliot came to mind. I could read something. But why? And what? Ugh, maybe a shower?

  “I’m just… I don’t know,” I told Scarlet. I had called her, but she didn’t answer. Before I was about to curl up and watch a movie, she called back. “I’m feeling out of place.”

  “Well, yeah,” I could just imagine her mouth hanging open with opinion. “You probably don’t feel like you belong… anywhere.” Not helping. I could hear her lick her lips. “I mean, you’re comfortable here, near home. But, Irene, you have many homes.”

  “I guess,” I leaned back on the loveseat and played with my hair. “I want to give everyone space, but I miss you all.”

  “Then I’ll come over,” she spoke kindly. “I miss you, too.”

  “Let’s get lunch tomorrow,” I offered. “I want to see you. I want to see all you guys.”

  “Well, Lydia and Lucas just left for Antauk.”

  “They did?” I hadn’t heard this yet. “What for?”

  Scarlet sort of laughed. “Something about skiing, something about romance,” her voice perked.