City of Spells (Into the Crooked Place #2) - Alexandra Christo Page 0,72
know who I am,” Wesley said.
Though he wasn’t sure if that was true anymore. He wasn’t sure if it had ever been true.
“Not who you are,” Vea said. “Remember who you could be. Remember that only you get to decide such things. You made a home and somehow you also made a family. You are not the sum of your past. You are the decisions in your future.”
She smiled at him one last time and then without warning the wind breezed by and she disappeared along with it.
Wesley sighed, closed his eyes, and let the world flood back.
23
Tavia
THERE WERE SOME MOMENTS that lived up to the dream of what they could be and some that fell into the depths of what they never were. Some moments were too weighted and others too easily dismissed.
Tavia had always thought people took moments for granted, even before they happened, trying to guess what they were supposed to be and then discarding them when they became something else. Moments that were fleeting and moments that were stretched to the boundaries of time.
The moment Wesley came back to the forest was one of those and Tavia was too scared it would end in some kind of strange hallucination to bother being disappointed that she hadn’t brought him back herself. She hadn’t been the one to save him from Ashwood and she hadn’t been the one to find him in the maze of the world.
Instead, Wesley had to seek her out, to save himself the way he’d always done.
Tavia hated that.
She wanted Wesley to be able to rely on her. She’d promised him, back when they visited the sins of their past, that they would conquer their demons together. And instead she’d left him to the wildest monsters the night held.
She wouldn’t make that mistake again.
When Wesley’s eyes closed, Tavia guided him as gently to the ground as she could. Though he was heavy and she was tired, she was impressed that she kept him steady enough so he didn’t crack his head on the ground.
“What did you do to him?” Saxony asked.
“Dream dust,” Tavia said. “I figured he needed a time-out. His magic looked like it was ready to get out of hand.”
Saxony nodded, and together with Bastian they heaved Wesley inside and laid him down on a bed. Tavia wondered what he was dreaming about, but more than that she wondered what they were going to do when he woke up.
“So Wesley’s your brother,” she said.
Saxony burst into a laugh and put her head in her hands. “Yeah.”
“Did Karam know?”
“I didn’t even know until an hour ago.”
Saxony glared over to Bastian and her amja, both of whom glared back, albeit sheepishly.
“You’re not related to anyone else, are you?” Tavia asked. “I’m not your wacky second cousin or anything?”
Saxony’s frown dissipated. “You wish.”
Though Tavia really didn’t, because now being related to Saxony meant being related to Wesley and that was just—
“Do you think he’ll hate me when he wakes up?” Saxony asked.
“No more than before,” Tavia said.
Saxony punched her not so lightly on the arm. “That’s not comforting.”
Tavia shrugged and sat down on the bed beside Wesley.
Saxony didn’t follow, but leaned against a nearby wall and looked down at him with guarded eyes. Tavia wasn’t sure if they were guarding against Wesley, or against anyone else who might try to come inside the room. Or even Saxony’s amja and Bastian, who stood by the door like they were wary of stepping not only closer to Wesley but closer to Saxony.
I’m really not interested in your family drama, Wesley had said to Saxony all those months ago, when he’d first recruited her to help take Ashwood down and she’d asked for him to save her sister in return. It was ironic to think about that now.
Wesley stirred and Tavia inched her body a little closer to his, so that when he opened his eyes, he saw her before he saw the puzzle of a lost family.
He shifted a little and then his eyes fluttered open.
“Good dream?” Tavia asked.
Wesley frowned and looked around the room.
“It’s weird to watch people sleep,” he said.
“It’s weird that you’re related to my best friend,” she countered.
Wesley shuffled upward. “Everyone needs to stop looking at me like I’m a time bomb.”
“It’s probably just a habit,” Tavia said. “You’re kind of a wildfire on the best of days.”
“What did you dream about?” Saxony asked.
“My mother.”
His mother.
Not Saxony’s.
He didn’t seem quite ready to put the two together and Tavia couldn’t blame him. Mothers were