Araya’s skin prickled. The crowd parted around the man who stood beside Jaxon now, like even these people didn’t want to get too close to him. He glared at Jaxon with unconcealed disdain, thepolished medallion marking him as a master gleaming in the dim light.
Jaxon leaned in, saying something that had his smirk curling at the edges of his lips. But the magister didn’t react—at least not outwardly. Instead, his gaze flicked toward her.
Araya lowered her eyes before she could stop herself. The instinct was too deeply ingrained—don’t be noticed, don’t be seen—but she could feel the weight of the stranger’s stare like a blade pressed against her throat.
She didn’t dare look up again—not until Jaxon’s hand brushed her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, relieved to find the stranger gone. She never wanted to see that man again.
“Did you set Darian to rights?” Kai asked as Jaxon folded her back into his arms.
Mara set her glass down too hard. “Magister Hale,” she corrected sharply. “We still owe him respect—whether you like it or not.”
Jaxon scoffed. “I’ll give him respect when he earns it,” he said with a smirk, smoothing his hands down Araya’s sides in long, soothing strokes.
Araya leaned into it, letting herself sag into his arms. The warmth of his body soaked through Serafina’s dress, grounding her, but her mind was already spiraling. Darian Hale wasn’t just a magister—he was the High Inquisitor.
Twenty-five years ago, the New Dominion had broken the fae, and Darian Hale had ensured they stayed broken. It was his laws that had dictated who could live freely and who would be marked, collared, or caged. His rulings that had decided which fae wereusefuland which ones simply… disappeared.
Jaxon could laugh it off. He had never been on his knees in front of an inquisitor, waiting to see if they would deem him worthy of breathing another day. Darian Hale was the reason she had learned early—before she even understood survival—not to meet human eyes. Not to be noticed.
But now—now he had noticedher.
Araya leaned heavily backagainst Jaxon, the polished floor swaying beneath her feet like the deck of a ship as the heat of his body soaked through Serafina’s dress, enveloping her. She didn’t hear what Kai said next—his words dissolving into the noise around them, breaking like a wave against the jagged edges of her mind.
Jaxon’s low laugh rumbled against her back. “I think it’s time to get you home, Starling,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. “I forgot—you don’t really drink.”
Araya stifled a wild laugh as Jaxon guided her toward the doors. It wasn’t funny—not really. Sheneverdrank. No fae female did—the dangers of being inebriated and vulnerable were simply too great.
Yet, here she was, in the heart of an affluent human district on the most dangerous night of the year, her senses dulled and her mind murky, clinging to Jaxon’s arm.
Her vision blurred, the edges of the world rippling like water as Jaxon settled her onto the plush bench of the waiting carriage. Her stomach lurched as they started moving, the silver gown sticking to her overheated skin.
Cool air brushed her face, laced with the familiar scent of burnt vanilla that always accompanied Jaxon’s spells. She blinked hard, trying to focus on his face as he watched her with open concern.
“What’s wrong?” Jaxon demanded, scanning her face like he’d find the reason for her panic there. “If you’re still worried about Hale, don’t be. He can’t touch you. I won’t let him. You’re safe with me, Starling.”
Safe.It was a lie wrapped in silk—a word meant for someone else. But if she closed her eyes, Araya could almost believe it, almost convince herself that everything tonight had happened exactly as it was meant to.
But the doubt was insidious, curling through her like smoke, poisoning the air in her lungs. Had she ever truly had a choice? HadJaxon really saved her—or had she simply stepped into the only cage that had been left open?
Jaxon’s hand traced up her spine, settling at the nape of her neck. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. “Tell me what’s wrong, Starling.”
“Mira told me you invited Serafina—weeks ago,” Araya finally admitted. “How long did you know this was going to happen?”
“Years.” Jaxon’s fingers stroked her jaw, tilting her chin so she had nowhere else to look. “I made you a promise before I left, Araya. I never intended to break it.”
Her stomach twisted. “Then why did you let them send you to Elvanfal? Why didn’t you write?”
Jaxon exhaled slowly. But he didn’t release her, didn’t look away.
“I wanted to request your bond as soon as I was eligible,” he said. “But Elvanfal—he told you, right? That was his condition.” His thumb brushed along the curve of her cheek, lingering. “He said you deserved time outside my influence to decide what you wanted.”
His voice softened, his grip tightening at her waist. “I would have waited longer if I had to. But when I got your letter about your waiver…” He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I would never let them take your magic from you, Starling. I requested my transfer back that day—before I even talked to my father. And I came to you the second I arrived back in Aetheris.”
“You transferred back for me?” Araya’s voice cracked.
This hadn’t just fallen into place. Jaxon had built it around her, laying the foundation of their future around her long before she even realized what he was doing. While she had agonized over her waiver, drowning under the weight of uncertainty, Jaxon had been maneuvering, ensuring she never had a decision to make at all.
She’d never even been in danger.
