“We’ll need to process them carefully,” she said, her voice thin. “And we should still use the blanks first—for our testers. We wouldn’t want to waste whole bones.”
“Of course.” Jaxon glanced at her, a light smile playing at his lips. “I’ll leave that to you, Starling. After all, you’re the expert.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Araya’s fingersskimmed over the delicate silver housing, her touch searching for flaws unseen by the eye. She and Jaxon had spent two painstaking months extracting, distilling, and stabilizing Loren’s blood—ensuring not a single drop was wasted. These housings had to be flawless—even the slightest imperfection in the silverwork or a single misdrawn rune, and all the power they’d worked so hard to preserve would bleed out into the air, lost to them forever.
And that was just the best-case scenario. Loren might be weak and broken—but he was still a powerful fae. The amulet could just as easily shatter, pelting them with shards of bone and molten silver. That’s why the Arcanum had confined any activity involving his blood to the dungeon workshop, where layers of complex warding and strict directives ensured no one discovered Loren’s existence.
Thankfully, crafting the silver housings required nothing but a keen eye and a steady hand. That meant she would work on them here, in her own workshop, far from the dungeon’s damp chill and the heavy, suffocating guilt that always tugged at her heart whenever she passed his cell.
Araya exhaled slowly, fingertips tracing every edge, every groove, searchingher work for even the faintest irregularity. Like last time, she found nothing—no weak spots. No sign of instability.
It was ready.
“You aren’t even close to ready, are you?”
Araya jumped, glancing up to find Jaxon leaning in the doorway, arms folded and amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
“This is the last one,” she said, carefully nestling the finished amulet into its velvet pouch and tucking it away in the iron-lined box. “We’re ready to start imbuing?—”
“That’s fantastic.” Jaxon pushed off the doorframe, his grin widening. “But that’s not what I was talking about, Starling.”
She blinked at him, confused—then frowned as she took in what he was wearing.
Jaxon always looked polished, but tonight he looked almost unfairly handsome. The lamplight gleamed off the blackened buttons of his dress uniform, catching on the fine gold embroidery that traced the midnight fabric like spellwork. The dark sash slashed across his chest, pinned with the polished symbols of his rank and honors—each one a gleaming reminder of just how dangerous he really was.
“Did you forget?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “Father’s party?”
“I—” Araya whirled to the tall arched window, where the sun was nothing but a sliver on the horizon. “I lost track of time. I just need to run home and change?—”
They were going to besolate. How could she have forgotten?
“No need,” Jaxon said, holding his arm up to reveal the swath of shimmering black fabric draped over it. “I brought your dress to you, Starling.”
"Gods—thank you, Jaxon." Araya snatched the dress from his arm, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. She exhaled, half laughing. “You always think of everything. Just give me a few minutes to change.”
"Be quick, Starling." Jaxon smiled down at her, running hisfingers over her cheek. "A lot of important people will be there tonight—impressions matter."
Araya ducked into the attached bathing chamber between their workshops, her fingers working quickly to unfasten her plain woolen overdress and tug her chemise over her head. She folded them carefully, setting them on the vanity before turning to the gown Jaxon had chosen for her.
She slid it over her head, catching her breath as the sleek, black fabric kissed her skin like liquid shadow, clinging to every line and curve. Delicate embroidery traced the bodice like threads of moonlight—silver to Jaxon’s gold—before flaring into floating layers that settled around her like a dark cloud.
Araya shivered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The dress bared more skin than she ever would have chosen on her own, leaving her actually aware of the delicate lines of her collarbone and the prickle of exposure along her spine.
This was Jaxon’s vision of her. Elegant. Captivating. Flawless.
She looked like a queen—hisqueen.
“Beautiful.” Jaxon straightened as she stepped back into the workshop, his dark eyes glittering as he took her in. “Absolutely perfect, Starling.”
Araya smoothed the fabric of the dress against her hips, still uncertain. “It’s not much like anything I would normally wear?—”
“This isn’t the sort of event you would normally go to,” Jaxon reminded her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as he prowled forward, circling her slowly. He reached out, tugging the tie from the end of her braid and carding his fingers through the wild waves until it tumbled loose down her back.
“I have something else for you,” he said, pressing a small velvet case into her hands.
