Though, if she were being picky, she could have done without the dreams.
They were nothing like the nightmares that used to drag her from sleep screaming after Kaldrath—but several nights a week, after falling asleep in the safety of Jaxon’s arms, Araya found herself back in that dungeon. The fae male didn’t speak to her again, but she knew he saw her. She could feel it in the way his eyes burned, tracking every step she took with a white-hot intensity she couldn’t explain.
Araya shook her head, brushing off the lingering unease. Dreams were nothing but echoes of the past. That fae male probably wasn’t even real—and if she had known him once, he was surely long gone by now.
She had a future, and it didn’t include ghosts.
Araya crossed the street and approached the grand archway that led into the heart of the Aetherium. She paused for just a moment, tilting her head back to take it in. It soared above her, silver-blue veins of magic threaded through the stone so seamlessly they still pulsed with power—all without a single rune.
No mage alive today could replicate it—it was possible no human ever could. The fae mages had been capable of incredible feats. If only they had chosen to share their power, instead of locking it away—hoarding knowledge, refusing to teach anyone beyond their own kind.
What might they have accomplished together, if instead of shutting the world out, the fae had let humans in?
Araya stepped beneath the arch and into the evening bustle of the Aetherium. The grand hall thrummed with life—students in scholar’s robes weaving between seasoned mages, Healers in their deep blue cloaks laughing softly with researchers and spellwrights. A pair of black-cloaked Arcanum aides hurried through the throng without stopping, their steps quick and purposeful even as the rest of the hall slowed for dinner. The Arcanum must be meeting on the upper floors—their work never stopped.
A few researchers she’d met through Jaxon nodded in recognition or murmured polite greetings. No one questioned her presence. Araya smiled back, her heart swelling. Mira had been right—this had been easy to get used to.
She was almost to the West Tower when her gaze caught on a group of young fae, all female, huddled near the edge of the hall. They looked to be about the age Araya had been when she first arrived—old enough to have come into their magic, still young enough to look uncertain in it. They must be new—freshly selectedby the Arcanum for the honor of learning just enough to serve the New Dominion.
Araya slowed, instinct drawing her toward them. She remembered what it was like to be new here, scared and alone among all these humans.
“You’re looking for the East Tower,” she said gently, pointing them in the right direction. “Your cohort boards and studies there. The dining hall’s on the lower level, with dormitories and classrooms above.”
One of them gave a stiff nod, not quite meeting her eyes. Another clutched her satchel like it was a shield. They murmured thanks and moved quickly, skirts brushing the floor as they slipped along the wall, vanishing into the current of robed mages.
Araya watched them go, a pang catching in her chest. She had always told herself she’d earned her place—but sometimes, it was hard to ignore how narrow the path had been.
She and Jaxon were proof that it could work—fae and humans, side by side. Maybe one day, they could show the world.
She climbed the spiraling staircase of the West Tower, the hum of conversation fading behind her. The exertion made her legs burn, but she relished it—each landing she passed was another step away from the frightened child who had once begged the Arcanum to let her learn magic.
No other fae had a workshop in the upper levels of the West Tower.
She adjusted the basket again, almost dropping it as she rounded the corner and barely avoided colliding with Serafina as the Healer hurried down in the opposite direction.
“Araya!” Serafina gasped, stumbling back a step. Her heavy leather satchel slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud.
“Serafina—” Araya’s smile faltered as Serafina’s gaze flicked past her, sweeping the wide curve of the staircase, as if calculating thefastest way to slip away without causing a scene. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Serafina scooped up her satchel, her knuckles whitening as she clutched the worn leather against her chest. “I was just getting some supplies,” she said, flashing a too-bright smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Are you on your way to see Jaxon?”
“I am,” Araya answered, suddenly all too aware of the distance between them. When was the last time she had seen Serafina? Not since she bonded with Jaxon. Guilt twisted in her chest.
“I’m sorry I never properly thanked you—for the dress. It was perfect.”
“I’m glad.” Serafina smiled, but her eyes shone with something sadder. “It looked beautiful on you.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. When had silence between them become so awkward? They had been each other’s constants for years—until Araya chose Jaxon.
Serafina swung the bag over her shoulder, shifting to the side like she meant to breeze right past—but Araya took a step forward, desperate to hold onto this interaction with the woman who used to be her best friend.
“You seem busy,” she said, nodding to the heavy satchel. “Is it for the clinic? I can’t do maternity rounds anymore, but I could ask Jaxon if I could help in the clinic?—”
“Oh—no, it’s nothing important.” Serafina shook her head, though her laugh rang hollow. “I just needed to grab a few things from the infirmary. Don’t worry about it. I understand why you can’t help now. You have your life—and I’m not part of it. Take care, Araya.”
Araya winced. “Serafina?—”
But she was already gone, taking the steep stairs two at a time and vanishing around the bend before the word had even left Araya’s lips. Araya stared after her. Serafina had been her first friend here—they’d told each other everything. Or at least, she’d thought they had. But now…now Araya wasn’t sure if she knew Serafina at all.
