I can’t help but feel the cold vibration in my chest is somehow tied to it.
I didn’t tell Ryc about the raven. There’s no point. If I saw it whileveilwalking, it doesn’t live—not like I first thought.
Ryc remained with me for some time, but eventually needed to meet with Rowen. The other kings need to be made aware. If there are tears here, the fabric of the veil will start to weaken elsewhere. While I understand the need, respect it even, I still argued.
Tried to get him to stay.
There’s nothing we or the other kings can do to address the issue. The veil isVaelyn’sdomain. It’shisresponsibility to fix it.
Not mine.
Not Ryc’s.
Not the council’s.
But, giving me those damnable eyes, a swift kiss, and a gentle reminder people need to be warned, Ryc closed the door to my quarters behind him.
And left.
I didn’t expect him to stay.
But I wanted him to.
Instead of being busy with Olloran lords, now he’ll be busy visiting cities throughout Erus, checking the integrity of the veil. A tiny part of me festers. I should have never said anything.
Following his departure and soured by the events of the day, I made less than pleasant company for Eve and Lilith.
Eve, of course, understood without me having to explain.
Lilith, on the other hand, took it upon herself to try and alter my mood with bright smiles and golden laughs and talks about the theatre troupes visiting Ollora. I understood what she was trying to do—provide a lighthearted distraction.
But all it did was remind me of Vaelyn and his behavior any morning following the nights I’d dream of Ryc. Wanting to protect Lilith from my tongue and unkindness, I locked myself in the bathing room and sat on the floor, staring at the tub—trying to make sense of it all.
I do not believe, for one second, Vaelyn doesn’t realize the veil is tearing. Netharis was soacutelyaware of the state of the veil, how could Vaelyn not be the same?
A torn veil meansanythingwandering within the clinging realm can cross into the living realm once again. Demons, DeathBringers, shadow knights—creatures and entities the veilshieldsthe living realm against. The last thing Ryc—or this realm—needs now is a slew of creatures pouring into Ollora seeking permanent residence.
The veil twists souls who linger.
They become bitter, lost, and hopeless.
The realm is meant to be a gateway, a sluice toward either the heavens or the hells. Not a slow-trickling pool from which Gaia and Netharis draw when the mood strikes. But the gods have bastardized the primordial order as much as they can without breaking it entirely.
They dance within razor-thin margins of plunging the realms into chaos.
“Hey, Ves,” Eve’s muffled voice seeps through the bathing room door as she knocks. “You can come out now. She’s gone.”
Blinking a few times, the tub comes into focus.
My eyes fly to the window.
The sky has grown dark.
I don’t know how long I’ve sat here. But I suppose it doesn’t matter. I pull myself to a stand and turn, unlocking the door. Eve swings it open, stealing the handle from me, offering me a weakened smile as our eyes meet.
She leans her temple against the door. “She said she was going to make a few changes to dinner.” With a sigh and a shrug she says, “I don’t know if she’s coming back. I would wager yes.”
Peering past Eve into the bedroom, I search for the crimson-haired fae. Raevi, on the other side of the room, catches me in my search as she collects the silver tray she brought earlier with tea. But other than her and Eve, the room lies empty.
