In the Wake of the Wicked (Veridian Empire #1)

42. Rose

42

Rose

I was in the middle of a bloody battlefield.

Soldiers and civilians warred on either side of me, clanging swords and crying children and severed body parts littering the hard ground.

This time I knew it was a dream, but I still couldn’t wake from it.

Ragnar, Morgana, and Beau lay before me in a pool of red, a dagger the size of my forearm held in my hand above them. Their blood slid from the blade and down my fingers until my entire hand was covered in it.

Sunlight caught the steel, making my reflection shine back at me. My eyes were ablaze, cheeks flushed, dark hair whipping around my face.

And I was smiling. A deep, sinister smile that made my insides shrivel and my spine tingle.

“ No! ” I shouted, hurling the dagger away, and as it embedded itself in the dirt, I sprung forward.

My eyes flew open. I found myself sitting upright, tangled in unfamiliar sheets. A warm hand steadied my back.

“It’s only a dream,” a voice said, rough with tiredness. “You’re safe, Rose. ”

Leo . It took me a moment to reorient myself with visions of the second trial and my nightmare clogging my senses, but I slowly started to remember. He and Rissa had brought me back to their cottage, where I’d passed out in his bed.

The confusion subsided, replaced with a nervous energy. I knew none of it was real, but it felt real. And with it came memories of my father—memories that were so true and potent, I could still feel his blood on my skin.

Leo propped up on one arm to my left, the other still at my back. His dark hair was mussed from sleep, his eyes hooded and tired. It was still dark out, and the only light came from the moon shining through the window above his desk, landing on the foot of the bed and creeping up the black sheets.

Seeing him like this, loose and unguarded and lying next to me, made something press against my chest, diverting attention away from my unease. Fates , nobody had the right to look that good, especially in the middle of the night.

I settled back onto my pillow, turning to face him and pulling my knees up into a curled position. Resting my head on my arm, I studied his features as he mirrored me, surprised by how much I’d missed in the light that was now revealed under the moon.

His hair always seemed perfectly placed, but now there were small curls at his ears and neck, stray tendrils hanging low on his forehead. Those eyes drew me in, soft and searching, as if in the dark he could finally let his guard down, could finally stop caring about keeping up his intense, moody bravado. I knew it came from a place of protection, a constant need to be on the alert, but I liked this side of him. My gaze traveled further down to a small scar on the edge of his jaw. He didn’t so much as flinch when I reached out to trace the length of it, feeling its smoothness against rough stubble.

The image of my back digging into a tree trunk while my thumb ran along his lip came back to me, and I dropped my hand, swallowing hard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked quietly. “The trial? ”

I closed my eyes. Did I want to? No, not necessarily. I’d never been one to talk through things or share my troubles with others. Everyone had their own burdens to carry; I figured they either didn’t need to add mine to them, or they didn’t truly care. Either way, I was used to shoving things beneath that heavy cloak in my mind, stifling them of their power over me.

I wanted to do that now. To reject him, turn my back, and pretend to sleep. Then we’d wake up in the morning in an awkward silence, right back to how things were a week ago when we left this very cottage with forced trust and heightened vexation. I’d been so frustrated with him and his pride, how he’d quickly brushed me off as a mistake, as someone not worthy. Beneath that, though, was my burning desire for revenge against his father transferred over to Leo’s unwitting head.

That wasn’t an excuse anymore. I don’t think I was ever really angry with Leo , anyway. He didn’t have anything to do with the actions of his father. And I couldn’t fault him for his pride. Those offhanded comments he’d made that had struck so deeply in the heat of the moment were more easily understood now that I’d gotten to know him. Now that I could clearly see the singular focus for most of his life had been protecting him and his sister and finding a way to usurp Gayl. Looking at it from his perspective, I wouldn’t trust myself, either. It must be nearly impossible to hand this task over to an outsider with no remarkable ability, who had a knack for getting herself into unfortunate situations.

I couldn’t help but remember how he looked at me—not with the wariness of the people back home, but with intrigue. Admiration, even. The things he said about me…that I was bold, brave, unapologetic. That I challenged people.

It made me feel good. It made me feel seen .

So where did that leave us? I had no reason for retribution, no anger holding me back, no sharp chip on my shoulder.

Instead, I was in awe of the way he loved his family so unabashedly. I was curious about his background, how his Alchemist and Shifter blood worked together. I had an acute desire to know what that scar on his jaw felt like against my lips.

And I had secrets.

The truth behind the Somnivae curse gnawed at my mind, unwilling to release its hold. I couldn’t tell him. Not until I knew I could trust Gayl’s confession, or until we found another way. I refused to believe Leo’s death was the sole solution to saving countless lives.

A lock of hair came loose from behind my ear and he reached out to brush it back, the movement so natural it was like second nature to him.

“It was a test,” I started in a whisper, clearing my throat. “The second trial. It was a test to see what choices we would make when thrown into this…battlefield.” He didn’t look surprised, but lowered his hand to the space between our chests on the bed, leaving it near my arm.

“I woke up and the palace was empty. I could see signs of an invasion out the window into the central sector…buildings burning, people fighting and running. And it was in the palace, too. Mysthelm soldiers had made a surprise attack, some sort of crusade to rid the world of our magic. They’d taken over and were—were killing Veridians on sight. The servants, the guards, the patients in the infirmary—” I choked on the words, and Leo shifted closer to me.

“Your uncle,” he acknowledged simply.

I nodded. “They were all dead. I tried to find my aunt and cousin, but they’d been kidnapped. Taken as hostages to the central sector. I fled the palace. I—I killed a soldier.” I sucked in a breath. “I killed two soldiers.” The first had been inadvertent; he’d tried to stab me, and my protection charm made his actions rebound onto himself. The second…the second had been my choice.

“Rose, anything that happened in that dreamscape wasn’t real. You didn’t kill anybody.”

“I might as well have. I made the decision— that wasn’t fake.” I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to pull away. “But he—he had killed all those innocent patients. I didn’t have a choice. He smelled like them. He enjoyed it, he—” I cut myself off, realizing I wasn’t making any sense. Again, Leo stayed silent, letting me figure out how to tell my story.

“I followed the chaos to the central sector, trying to find Morgana and Beau. It was…a nightmare.” I shuddered, and his fingers came up to skim my arm, the touch featherlight but grounding all the same. “Bodies fell left and right, and there was so much smoke it was hard to see through the haze. Magic against metal. Houses were set on fire, children were—were screaming through the streets, and you couldn’t step anywhere without the scent of blood and copper and burning wood?—”

I stopped again, taking a deep breath to expel the smoke clinging to me. “I helped get some people to safety. There was a shelter we were trying to get as many civilians to as we could. But then…I saw Beau. In the back of a prisoner’s carriage. And I think…I think that was the point of the whole trial.”

“What do you mean?” Leo asked.

I shifted onto my back and stared at the ceiling, forcing his arm to fall away. “The carriage was taking off in another direction, toward the Scarre River. At the same time, I found out a group of Mysthelm soldiers were planning to drop an explosive on the shelter.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I had a choice.”

Save Beau, or save an entire building of frightened, innocent people.

“Rose, none of it was?—”

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t real, Leo,” I snapped. “You weren’t there. It was the only real thing. The fighting, the death, the terror. It’s still here, buried in my skin, in every breath I take. I made the choice to sacrifice all those people for the sake of my cousin. Nobody may have died, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still did it . I would do it again, real or not.” I paused, twisting my fingers in the edges of the sheets. “A ‘test of the heart’…well, they kn ow mine now, don’t they?” A bitter scoff left my lips. “Selfish and cold.”

“You can’t honestly believe that,” Leo said. “You were given an impossible choice in an impossible situation. This trial was out of line. They should have never put you through such cruelty, Rose. I don’t fault you for a moment for choosing to save your cousin.”

I rolled my eyes and twisted my neck to face him. “Oh, really? The noble Zareleon Aris would have left those innocent people to die?”

“For my sister? Or my mother?” His features turned icy. “Without a second thought.”

“Then perhaps we’re both selfish and cold,” I whispered.

Leo’s hand found mine on top of the sheets at my waist. “You risked your life to take the place of your uncle so your entire province could have hope. You agreed to help a rebellion full of strangers in order to see the wrongs of this empire righted. You are the furthest thing from selfish, Rose.” His fingers drifted across my knuckles. “As for the other…” He turned my hand over and brushed his thumb along the sensitive skin at my palm, sending lightning through my arm. “What does this feel like?” His warmth seeped into me. It covered the icy shame I’d been edging toward. It felt…burning. Consuming. “Is that cold to you?”

I met his gaze. “What are we doing, Leo?” My voice was barely a breath as it flowed over the moonlight.

His lips quirked up the smallest amount. “Talking. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Just like that, he slipped back into our easy rapport, but this time, I didn’t think it was to hide or run away. I think he recognized how close to some sort of metaphorical cliff I was, how deeply this second trial had messed with my mind. In the small amount of time we’d known each other, he’d learned my masks put me at ease. That I needed a semblance of control when everything inside me felt like spiraling. And here he was, sharing that control with me .

I raised an eyebrow. “This doesn’t look like you want to be my friend .”

“I asked if we could be friends. Not that that’s what I wanted.”

My lips parted. I was used to this—banter filled with insinuations, lingering looks, meaningless words. Where anything bordering on significant was drowned beneath the reminder that nobody truly saw me, that nobody truly wanted the strange, doomed orphan Alchemist.

But this…this didn’t feel meaningless. Nothing with him ever did.

“Then what do you want?” I asked.

His hand drifted higher, a finger coming up to twirl around a lock of my hair. It was as if our embrace in the forest earlier had unlocked some part of him that couldn’t stop touching me. “I want you to be open with me. I want you to trust me. I want to get to know the real you, not a shadow version.” He released my hair and traveled to my jaw, lightly running his finger up to my cheek. His eyes tracked the movement, like he was reveling in the freedom our solitude provided. Even the barest of touches from him was much more intimate than I was used to.

“I want that too,” I whispered.

We lay in the silence, each testing the waters, finding our own comfort in this admission. His arm fell between us again, and I caught sight of the tattoo I’d seen the first time we were in this cottage together.

I brushed my fingers against the black ink on his forearm, noting the way goosebumps rose in response. It was a beautiful drawing of an animal face: half of it was a fox, and the other half looked to be a wolf. Delicate vines swirled around it and down his arm all the way to the top of his hand. Leaves and henbane flowers sprouted from the stem.

“What does it mean?” I asked softly.

His eyes were on my fingers as they moved across the design, his features contemplative. “It’s my family. It was a way of keeping them with me. The fox is Rissa, the wolf is our mother. The henbane petals represent my father. It was his favorite charm, and I inherited these rings from him.” He twisted a dark gray ring on his middle finger. “He taught me how to infuse them with his favorite combination of henbane and amaranth.”

I hummed, tracing the pattern of the flowers with the tip of my finger. “You haven’t said much about your mother. She was a wolf Shifter?” I asked, diverting the conversation away from his father.

“She still is.”

Pausing as I reached the image of the wolf, I glanced up at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed it was just you and Rissa.”

His teeth scraped against his bottom lip. He took his time before responding. “Our mother is still alive, but she’s…sick. Lost. She fell ill shortly after our father died and has only worsened since.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart aching for him, for the distance in his gaze. “Where is she?”

“Here. In the room right next to us. Rissa and I have taken care of her for the past decade. It started as fatigue, her body and mind unable to handle the grief. It slowly morphed into…well, the healers aren’t exactly sure. It’s as if she gave up.” When he paused, I slipped my hand into his and squeezed. This type of openness was something I hadn’t had before, and I found myself wanting to melt into him, to give him my strength when words failed him.

“Her body is stable, for the most part. But her mind…we lost hope that she would recover long ago. She sits in silence, never moving, never speaking. We’re lucky if she so much as looks at us when we go read to her or sit with her in the mornings. Watching her become a—a shell of what she used to be…” He closed his eyes and paused again as he collected himself. “I can’t even remember the last time she spoke to me. It’s not something I talk about often.”

I tucked my arm beneath my head. “That must be so hard. I’m sorry, Leo. I had no idea.”

“Neither of us are strangers to hardships.”

Fates, wasn’t that the truth .

“What about your parents?” he asked gently. It wasn’t pressing, simply curious. He’d said he wanted to get to know me, that he wanted us to be open. The fact that he was lowering his own walls made the coil in my chest that furled so tightly around the memory of my parents loosen. I could do this. I could talk about them. I could let someone share my grief.

I took a deep breath. “I think the reason this trial affected me so much is because my entire life has been filled with loss. My mother…she died during childbirth. I was born into blood, and sometimes it feels like I’m still trying to crawl my way out. And this trial…it showed me more bodies piled high, more people I couldn’t save.

“The day my father died…” I chewed on my bottom lip, exhaling slowly. The familiar panic—the weight on my chest, the dry lips, the tightening around my neck—appeared, but it was muffled. Distant. Easier to work through. “The day he died, I was five years old. A few Illusionists found me outside our house and tricked me into bringing them to my papa.”

I told Leo the story, speaking the words aloud for the first time. I recounted how my father had forced me to hide, how he’d protected me against the men, how I’d come out of my spot and saw the Illusionist slit his throat. Leo’s features remained focused; the only reactions he showed were when he threaded his fingers through mine, occasionally rubbing his thumb against the side of my hand.

“The morning of the first trial, Callum—the Illusionist challenger—tricked me. He created an image of Horace dead in the hallway outside my room. He was lying in his own blood with his throat cut, the same way I found my father. It triggered the memory, something I’d been repressing for decades.” I swallowed and grasped Leo’s hand tighter. “It all came rushing back. It was like…I’d had a crack inside of me ever since then that had slowly been leaking, but I could always patch it easily enough. Then after this , it was a flood. A tidal wave I couldn’t run from. Everything that’s happened since has just opened more gates to let water rush in and drown me.”

I squeezed my eyes shut before any tears could form and fall. I felt Leo raise my hand, felt the soft press of his lips into my knuckles. I wasn’t used to such an outward display of affection, especially from someone like him—someone who had seemed so impassive in the beginning, all hard lines and ruthless stoicism.

I liked him this way. Gentle and soft. Lending strength instead of merely possessing it.

“It feels like something is wrong with me,” I finally said. “Nobody wants to get too close. Bad things always seem to happen to those around me. My parents, Ragnar, countless people I know who have fallen to the Somnivae curse. And now I find out the emperor is my uncle ? The things he’s done…” The things my father has probably done , I thought with a shudder. “Maybe there’s something in my blood that’s cursed. Doomed to spread destruction.”

The bed shifted and Leo rested a hand on my waist. “Come here,” he murmured. One of his arms slid under me while the other wrapped around my back, and I rested my head on his chest as he pulled me in. My top leg instantly tangled between his, his warmth and solidness cocooning me in a way that felt both familiar and completely new at the same time.

“Growing up, part of me believed the Somnivae curse was my fault,” Leo began, his voice hushed with my ear against his chest. My pulse beat a little faster at the mention of him and the curse. The truth pressed into my tongue, sharp and bitter, and I swallowed it down. “Many thought Rissa and myself were some sort of plague on the empire. Being born into that legacy…it meant we were never accepted. Not for who we truly were. Never seen as anything other than a curse, we were forced to live as outsiders in our own home, scared of what others may do to us out of a twisted sense of balance or retribution.”

His thumb tapped at my lower back, a tick I found endearing. When he continued speaking, I heard the hesitancy in his words, like he didn’t often let others bear this burden, either .

“It doesn’t take long to wonder…if they’re right. If Rissa and I are cursed, and we’re the reason so many suffer.”

I leaned away to meet his eyes, heart sinking at the thought of the twins so lost and alone, carrying this guilt for something they had no control over. I didn’t know how to navigate this. I wasn’t one others came to for relief or empathy. But even if he was connected to the curse…it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve the hand the Fates had dealt him. One would have to be blind not to see how devoted he was to this empire, even when he’d been treated with such malice.

“It’s not your fault, Leo,” I said, pushing on his chest to see his face clearly. His muscles flexed and tensed beneath my touch. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Those people…they’re scared of something they don’t understand.”

“I know.” His breath fanned across my skin. “Knowing something and believing it aren’t always the same. And you’re no more cursed than I am. You’ve also done nothing wrong, Rose. Do you believe that?” His eyes searched mine, turning my words back around on me.

I let out a huff of laughter, lowering my gaze. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I never said I was playing.” The hand at my spine pressed further into me, and I burrowed back into his hold, tucking my chin and letting our heartbeats lull my racing thoughts.

“I’m sorry about your father,” he said after a moment. “Nobody should have to go through what you did. Nobody should have to see violence like that.”

My stomach twisted. We’d found some sort of…peace, or whatever this thing between us was, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But we’d also never had a conversation about Branock’s involvement that didn’t end in anger or denial, and the urge to find closure pressed against me. I sat up, looking down at him and the distance I’d created.

“There was something else Gayl told me about my father when we met. He said he knew that—that Branock Aris was going to go after him. It was after your father went into hiding. He was tracking down those closest to Gayl to get revenge on him for stealing his throne, and that my father was high on the list.”

Leo stiffened. “Why are you bringing him up again, Rose? We’ve already talked about this.”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice strained. Not at him, but at myself . That I couldn’t seem to let this go. “I guess I—I just want to understand. I don’t know what to believe anymore—Gayl’s story or your conviction. And part of me feels like I’ll never be able to get over this without some sort of explanation.”

“And you’re searching for an explanation, for the truth , in Gayl’s words?” Leo sat up straighter. “This is what he does. He’s a manipulator. You can’t believe anything he says, especially about someone like my father, who he betrayed without a backward glance.”

I let out a groan and ran my fingers through my hair. “I know you’re right. But his words are all I have. That and my memories. I—I don’t know how to let this go.”

“If you can’t learn how to do that, then how is any of this supposed to work, Rose?”

The room grew cold and silent, something sour tarnishing our space of solace.

I was an idiot. Why did I do this to myself? Did I feel him sinking beneath my skin and get scared? I was so accustomed to people rejecting me that I’d begun to force them into it. It was like I subconsciously tested how far they were willing to go before I said something to push them back. To make them walk away.

I didn’t want to be the one to watch him walk away, though.

I untangled my legs from the sheets and threw them over the side of the bed, hunting around in the dark for my boots.

“Where are you going?”

Stumbling, I narrowly avoided banging my leg on his desk in the dark. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I—I’ll sleep on the couch until I can go back to the palace in the morning. ”

He followed me out of bed, placing a hand on the door frame to block me from opening it. “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave, Rose.”

“But you’re angry,” I insisted.

He gave me an incredulous look. “You assume I’m angry. I just…I don’t know how to navigate this. I’m confused and tired, not angry. Even if I was, that doesn’t mean I want you to leave. Is that what people have done to you your whole life?” I glanced away, but he caressed my cheek, urging me to look up at him. “Made you think your only option was to retreat?”

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I guess…it’s easier.” Swallowing, I toyed with the ends of my shirt. “Easier than facing their anger or judgment.”

His thumb brushed along my skin. “I’m not upset with you. I want to understand, like you. While I don’t believe my father was behind this, that doesn’t invalidate what you went through. It doesn’t make it any less hard. We can talk about this. We can help each other learn how to let go. You don’t have to leave, unless you want to.” He stepped closer. “But I don’t want you to.”

His words settled into me, and the compulsion I’d felt to run slowly dimmed. I was so used to avoiding conflict, so used to assuming people wanted nothing to do with me, that the idea of him trying to talk through things and come to an understanding together…

It was more intimate than any touch.

I didn’t have to run. I didn’t have to hide myself behind masks of indifference or sharp edges. I could be free .

And for the first time, I realized that’s all I’d wanted all along.

Something in my chest broke open. A tear tracked down my cheek, and Leo’s eyes widened in concern. “What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

I shook my head and sniffed. “Nothing’s wrong.” I leaned forward and stood on my toes until my forehead met his. We stood there for a moment, our breaths mingling as my tears subsided. I knew our conversation about my father’s murder wasn’t over, but I didn’t think I could take much more tonight. I was still reeling from my nightmare, still struggling to accept these new emotions toward Leo, still exhausted yet exhilarated all at once.

My heart pounded in my ears, a tingle spreading over me at our nearness. Without thinking, without knowing what I was doing, I lifted my face slightly so my nose brushed his. A test. A question.

But not a game. Not anymore.

His hand splayed on my lower back, drawing me in. He kissed the tear lingering on my cheek, then moved his lips down and along my jaw.

My breath caught. “What are we doing, Leo?” I repeated my earlier question, voice shaking.

This time, his response held no humor. “I don’t know.”

We stayed like that, his lips a whisper from mine, neither of us moving besides our chests rising and falling in time to heavy breaths.

“We should go back to bed,” he said softly, his lips skimming my jaw. “It’s been a long day.”

He was right. I was too emotional, too on edge, and I didn’t want this— him —to be a distraction. A decision made on a whim. No matter what doubts were creeping around my mind, I knew for certain I wouldn’t let Zareleon Aris be a mistake .

I nodded slowly in agreement and licked my lips, the motion causing my tongue to graze against the side of his mouth. He let out a small groan, and I smiled.

“Back to sleep, monkey boy,” I said, breaking away. His smoldering glare made my stomach flip.

Perhaps we could still play some games, after all.