“I should be the one to return it,” she argued. “I need to talk toher anyway—about why she didn’t say anything about you asking for my bond.”
Jaxon sighed, turning back to her. “I don’t suppose you’d just accept that I asked her not to tell you? I didn’t want you worrying about something I was already handling.”
Araya’s throat tightened. It sounded so reasonable when he said it like that.
"We tell each other everything," she insisted, though her voice lacked the conviction she wanted. "I told her you were here—and she acted surprised. Even though she knew. Sheliedto me, Jaxon.”
“I understand why you’re upset, but can you really blame her for listening to me, Starling?” Jaxon cupped her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek before trailing down her neck and curling around her waist to pull her close. “She might not like me very much, but she loves you. I’m sure you’ve kept a secret from her before, haven’t you?”
Araya swallowed hard, guilt blooming fast and bitter in her chest. Shehadkept her own secret—but it wasn’t like her cycle arriving affected Serafina. At the time, it hadn’t felt like a betrayal. But now… maybe it had been. Serafina didn’t know how desperate Araya had been—how afraid. How close to the edge.
If she had, maybe she would have told her.
Jaxon sighed. “I’m not saying no, Starling,” he said. “But have you thought about what you’re going to wear? All you have here is that dress and my shirt.”
Her cheeks flushed as her eyes landed on the shirt—still crumpled on the floor, right where they’d left it. She opened her mouth, but the protest didn’t come.
Maybe he was right. Either way, fighting over it was pointless.
“I’ll have the courier take care of it,” she conceded, her voice subdued. “I need to think about what to say to her anyway.”
Jaxon’s eyes softened, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as she brushed her hand along his cheek. She rose up on her toes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything.”
Jaxon pulled back, his smile wide. “Get some rest,” he told her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “I won’t be long.”
Araya nodded, the cold space left in Jaxon’s absence already feeling too large. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
“I know you will, Starling.” Jaxon leaned forward, pressing one last lingering kiss to her forehead. “Because this is where you belong.”
Chapter
Five
She’d seen him.
Loren snarled, driving his fist into the stone wall. Pain flared, bright and sharp, as he wrenched against his bindings. The runes etched into the pitted surface flared to life as he strained against them, the cruel iron biting deeply into his raw, mangled flesh.
But the chains held. They always did.
He collapsed onto the moldy straw pallet, trembling with exhaustion and rage, eyes fixed on the manacles that had bound him for half his life. They had weathered over the years, but the runes carved into their surface still gleamed with magic, making them easy to read.
Loristo bind his soul.Na’vorelto sap his strength.Na’ithrato seal away his magic. All carved into the iron that burned his flesh and chipped away at his soul.
The spells were written in Valenya, but their execution was completely, cruelly human. Between the manacles, the collar, and the years wasted in this cell, Loren’s once-formidable power had withered to almost nothing. He couldn’t summon enough aether to light a candle, and escape was a dream that had died long ago.
The shadows stirred. Loren tensed, his breath slowing as they inched closer, curling around his feet. Silent, for once. He had felt their presence for years—haunting, watching, whispering. But today… today was different.
They weren’t just watching. They were listening.
Loren gritted his teeth, glaring at the inky tendrils. “What do you want from me?” he demanded.
They didn’t answer. They never did. But for once, Loren didn’t need them to.
They had broughtherto him.
It wasn’t the first time he had seen her. She had haunted him for months, slipping into his dreams like a ghost. He’d almost convinced himself she wasn’t real—just a desperate construct conjured by his mind in a last ditch effort to stave off the madness of isolation.
She never spoke. Never looked at him—not until tonight.
