Loren clenched his jaw, burying that ember of reckless hope before it could blaze to life. What did it matter to him? There wasnothing he could do about it—not when he was chained in the dark like an animal. He’d die in this cell, one day.
“—trust me, she won’t be a problem.” Jaxon chuckled. “You should have seen her when I told her I wanted her to keep working—she’s eager to show her worth ineverypossible way. If she can’t break the Veil, at least she’ll keep me well entertained until I figure it out myself.”
Loren’s stomach twisted with disgust at the lewd implication. Goddess help that poor female, whoever she was.
“Is there anything else you need to see?” Garrick asked his son. “The workshop down here is fully stocked. If there’s anything you need?—”
The two men moved back to the door, knocking twice to be let out. Loren listened as their voices and laughter faded, finally leaving him in silence again.
How many years would they spend torturing him this time? Two? Five? Jaxon seemed eager to prove himself—that didn’t bode well. Loren sighed. Maybe he could antagonize Garrick’s son into finally killing him.
He was so tired. Tired of the shadows, of the cold, of the constant pressure of the iron against his skin. Tired of the despair and hopelessness. Loren was barely in his fifties. Fae lived a long time—he had at least another 200 years of this.
Loren closed his eyes, whispering another prayer to the absent Goddess for his mate.Keep her safe. Keep her hidden.
Because Loren needed her to stay far, far away from Garrick and Jaxon Shaw.
Chapter
Six
Araya lazedin Jaxon’s ridiculously comfortable bed, cocooned in soft blankets and the warmth he’d left behind. The sheets smelled like him—his vanilla soap layered over something darker and unmistakablyJaxon.
She might have stayed there forever, tangled in the memory of his hands and the lingering heat of his skin—if her body hadn’t had other plans. The comfortable haze gave way to a dull ache low in her belly, and a hollow twist in her stomach that refused to be ignored.
Reluctantly, she slipped out of the bed, scooping Jaxon’s shirt off the floor as she ducked into the attached bathing chamber to relieve herself. She had to laugh when she caught sight of her reflection, her hair hanging in a wild, tangled halo of red and violet around her face, his shirt swallowing her frame.
Still chuckling, she dug through the drawers until she found Jaxon’s comb. She worked it through the worst of the tangles until she could wrestle it back into her customary braid, securing the end with a leather strip and tucking it into the collar of Jaxon’s shirt.
Jaxon loved her hair loose and wild—said it made her look like fire. But this made her feel like herself.
Arayawandered back into the chaos of the main living area, picking her way through the disarray as she made her way to the kitchen. A glance into the coldbox confirmed it was empty—no surprise there. In all the years she had known him, Araya had never seen Jaxon Shaw cook so much as an egg.
She did find a glass, marveling at the clear, cool water that flowed from the tap. Even at Serafina’s house, the water always ran brown and murky for a few moments before it cleared.
After months of fear and gnawing uncertainty, staring out at the quiet chaos of Jaxon’s living room felt almost surreal. He hadn’t abandoned her, despite how it looked at the time. And when she’d needed him, he had come before even talking to his father. To know that he had never stopped planning to ask for her bond—it was more than she’d ever expected.
Finishing her water, Araya continued to explore the apartment, making her way to Jaxon’s office. While the room was still cluttered with trunks and boxes, Jaxon had clearly started putting an order to the chaos here. Loose parchment was gathered into neat stacks, and rolled maps and diagrams leaned against the walls, waiting to be hung.
Araya ran her fingers over the spines of the books crowding the shelves, taking in the sheer volume of them. Jaxon had always had an impressive collection, but this… this was something else entirely. The sheer wealth of knowledge hoarded here was staggering.
Of course, she had seen the towering shelves of the Aetherium’s library, but like all fae she was only allowed into the front room, where the contents were carefully curated within acceptable limits. Only scholars and high-ranking officials were permitted beyond the locked doors. That was simply how it was.
But still, Araya had always wondered.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, drawing her attention past the shelves, beyond the heavy glass doors leading to the balcony. The city stretched beyond, gilded in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun, and for a moment, the books were forgotten.
She drifted toward the doors, pushing them open as warm air brushed against her skin. Stepping outside, she let her gaze sweep over the black spires of the Aetherium. They loomed over the skyline, rising from a tangled maze of winding streets, a monument to power and control.
Trust Jaxon to secure lodging in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in Aetheris. He had everything—wealth, influence, and access to knowledge she could never even have dreamed of. And now, he had her too.
Araya slipped back inside, closing the doors behind her with a soft click. She paused by the desk, running her hand over the rich wood. One of Jaxon’s countless leather-bound journals lay open in the center, an uncapped inkwell beside it, as if he’d stood up and walked away mid-thought.
Araya capped the inkwell, unable to keep her eyes from wandering to the journal itself. What kinds of things had he learned and done in Elvanfal?
The temptation was too strong to resist. She flipped it open, revealing pages dense with Jaxon’s meticulous handwriting and detailed diagrams. It was a reflection of a mind that never stopped. Jaxon was always thinking, always calculating and analyzing the world around him.
He had been researching the Shadowed Veil.
