The wooden headboard strikes the stone wall in a primal rhythm, as her moans rise and fall like waves—soft, then desperate, then transcendent—echoing through the hall beyond our chamber. Let everyone hear us. Let the stars themselves bear witness to how completely we belong to each other.
Her body tenses beneath me, back arching, as I feel her light surging through our connection—a sudden brilliant pulse that travels from her core into mine, her pleasure cascading through me, pulling me over the edge. We become twin stars collapsing into one another, our separate lights merging into a single brilliant glow that illuminates every shadow within me.
My release comes as a tidal wave—powerful, inevitable, washing away everything in its path until nothing remains but the essence of us. For a moment, we are constellations perfectly aligned, suspended in an eternity of light.
I collapse beside her, our chests heaving in unison, the room spinning slightly as I gather her against me, our skin meeting like flint against steel, striking invisible sparks. Her head finds the hollow of my shoulder as if drawn there by enchantment, and when her hair tickles my chest, for a second I see faint purple luminescence dancing along her lovely purple strands.
We lie together for a few minutes—or perhaps an eternity—my fingers trailing her skin. In the afterglow, it seems to capture the sunlight, holding it beneath it.
My wife. The word reverberates in my chest—no longer with the teasing tone I used once, but as a truth my heart has always known.
Her eyes catch mine, brilliant like stars. “You know what I’m thinking?”
“You can think already?” I grimace and place a hand over my heart. “Oh, what a poor job I must have done.”
She rolls her eyes and punches my shoulder lightly. “It’s not ajob. And it’s not like we finished a second ago.”
Of course she’s right. And I know I can’t spend the entire day in this bedroom, even if I wish I could remain here forever. Perhaps I wish I could postpone any thoughts about tomorrow, but that’s not a sensible solution.
“What is it?” I ask, giving her my full attention with none of the previous teasing.
Astra mock pouts. “We ruined the test. Now I’ll never know which method yields more magic.”
Her words make me laugh, perhaps because I was expecting something serious. I cup her face with both hands and kiss her, then say, “We’ll keep testing, don’t worry. We just got started.”
“We will. Now let’s get dressed.” She pauses. “You’ll have a tough day tomorrow.”
My chest constricts with a strangled breath, and yet I nod. “I know.”
I also know she might want to see my fire, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Something bitter and dark stirs in my stomach when I think about it.
But if I can’t conjure it now, when I’m calm, safe, how am I going to use it tomorrow?
TARLIA
Iwonder if I’m being foolish or smart. And then, isn’t that how it goes to any decision? I don’t trust Mirella. Frankly, I don’t even understand on which side she’s on, but I’m willing to give this a try.
And this is how I’m in the narrowest hallway ever, walking in sideways and blind, carrying no light. I feel like a mouse in the cavities of a wall. In fact, there could be mice or insects here. Disgusting.
Then I see it, the tiniest sliver of light, just like she described. Not described, asked. Somehow, she framed all her instructions as questions, but I’m not going to inquire into fae talk.
There are three tiny holes, too small even for my little finger to go through, forming a triangle from where thin rays of light enter the hallway. Squeezing one eye shut, I place the other close to one of the perforations, and see the large room where Azur decapitated Zorwal. The memory of the blood and then our dash through the desert gives me goosebumps of the bad kind, a reminder of the danger encircling me, watching me like a predator.
My position doesn’t give me the best view of the room, as I’m behind the main chair, so don’t know if Zorwal’s sitting there or not. One thing I do know is that there’s no mysterious visitor here, at least not yet—unless they’re invisible or crouching under a chair, but then they would be talking. Perhaps the room is empty. Perhaps this is some kind of prank.
The silence feels heavy and my chest feels tight. Technically, my butt’s the one squeezed in this hallway, but I can’t forget that Mirella knows I’m here. She twisted and twisted her words, and while my understanding is that she doesn’t want to harm me, I could be wrong. In fact, I could be wrong about a thousand things, and yet I’m putting myself in a position fromwhere there’s no escape, just for the slight chance of glimpsing some scrap of information that could lead me somewhere. The alternative would be to remain in my room—oblivious, dumb, and passive—waiting for a strike of luck to hit me. Yes, I guess I’d rather be daring, dumb, andactive. At least there’s a certain integrity to it.
In the silence of the thin corridor, all I hear is my slow, almost silent breathing, until it’s broken by a door opening—the door to the council chamber.
I can barely see him, just the top of his head, and yet a shiver covers my entire body, even if I can barely believe my senses. Themysteriousvisitor is none other than Otavio. He was in the castle previously, living here in guest rooms, and perhaps that had more to do with Zorwal than with Renel.
“Oh, look who’s there.” Zorwal’s voice has a slight hint of surprise, which I wasn’t expecting. “So you’re alive after all.”
“I’m sure you’d notice if something happened to me.”
I hear Zorwal stepping down from his chair, the whoosh of his long robes sounding as clear as a yell.
He stands in front of Otavio. “You were here before, were you not? In this castle?”
