Again the colors emerge in a flash.
Eve’s spine straightens as she sits up.
“Never seen obsidian do that,” she says. “That’s beautiful.”
“I didn’t think it existed outside the hells,” I reply.
I doubt Gladir understands the weight of his choice—or perhaps he does—either way, it’s a touch I appreciate. He’s unknowingly incorporated a rather significant piece ofmeinto what is a rather momentous thing forfae.
“Are you going to give it to him today?”
The question slices through my tired mind and lodges itself in my bones.
“I… I don’t know,” I answer. “If he’s standing before the council—”
“Ves, all due respect, fuck the council.”
Brows high, I meet an intense ice blue stare.
“You’re notmarryingthe council,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “Fuck all of those pompous asses whopretendto careabout their people or faekind.”
I remain silent, unsure how to respond.
The cracking and popping of the fire consumes the silent space between us. Smoothing a thumb over the surface of the obsidian, the weight of the box in my hands grows tenfold.
Finally I ask, “Is that what you think about Ryc? What you’ll think about me?”
She heaves a long sigh as she leans against the back of the couch. “I used to feel that way about your fae.” She purses her lips. “But these last few months, seeing who he is, everything he’s doing—he’s proving me wrong.” She turns her face to the fire, her eyes taking on a sunset-like hue. “It makes me wonder if that’s your influence—if he’s becoming who he needs to deserve you.”
She laughs a dry, bitter sound, shaking her head.
“Want my advice?” She doesn’t meet my stare. “Don’t do what I did. If it’s what you want and it feels right, don’t wait. Time is finite and Fate is a bitch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tucking the obsidianbox into the side of my boot, I straighten myself and take a step. It sits secure, snug, and… mostly hidden. The bulge on the side of my leg shouldn’t be too noticeable.
Leaving it in my quarters isn’t an option.
At least, not one I’m comfortable with.
I haven’t even looked at it. I’m not ready. Perhaps I will be after today’s lesson. Eve’s advice sits against my heart, along with the image of Cora’s gift.
At least this obsidian box doesn’t pull at my essence. It lacks the unweaving curse like that of the glamouring ring’s box. Settled in my decision, I set off for the study on the ground floor.
The castle is quieter today.
There’s a lingering air of apprehension and mourning.
The stark realization that what lies in the courtyard—at their doorstep—isn’t simply a harmless, beautiful thing to look at. It’s ancient, powerful, otherworldly, and unknown.
As I open the study door, Lilith lifts her head from the open book before her. Seated with her back to the windows, she’s haloed in a bright light. Her crimson hair shining like spun rubies.
“Good morn, Ves,” she greets in her typical bright and cheery tones with a dazzling smile.
“Good morn,” I return, closing the door behind me.
“I wondered if I would see you today,” she says, closing her book. “I would have understood if you decided to keep to yourself.”
