His voice takes on a note of awe, of recognition. “That great show of power hasn’t been seen since my mother was alive, since the last high fae walked these lands. I don’t have the knowledgeto coax it out of you safely, and I believe what we witnessed today is only the beginning of your power.”
Esme’s lips part as if to speak, but her father continues before she can find words. “There’s a fae sorcerer,” he says, leaning forward with the intensity of a man sharing vital secrets. “His name is Galin. He lives in a village called Stonehearth, near the edge of Kasamere’s borders. He was once part of this court, my mother’s advisor actually, but he was exiled long ago for. . .political disagreements.”
Rhys’s expression grows rueful. “He’s eccentric, and more than a little strange. Some say he’s mad, yet he’s powerful, perhaps the most powerful seer left in this realm. I believe he can help you in ways I cannot.”
Esme swallows hard, her throat working against what must be considerable pain. “Help me how?”
“Help you reclaim what’s yours,” he says, and his voice rings with paternal pride and desperate hope. “Help you become who you were meant to be.”
The king holds out the roll parchment that Rue offered him earlier and passes it carefully into Esme’s trembling hands.
“This is my personal decree,” Rhys explains, watching as she unrolls the heavy paper with its royal seals and flowing script. “A formal plea from one monarch to a former court member. Galin won’t help just anyone, he’s far too bitter for that, but he may listen to this. He may remember the debt he owes to my bloodline.”
The king’s expression grows distant, thoughtful. “I’ve read about something called the Trials in the old texts. It was mentioned in my mother’s journals. Most scholars dismiss them as myth, legend, but the descriptions match what happens when a being of great power is severed from their magic. If Galin deems it necessary, if he believes you’re worthy, he may send you on this path.”
Esme stares at the parchment, her fingers tracing the elegant script without really reading it. “Alone?” The single word is barely a whisper, loaded with all the abandonment and isolation she’s already endured.
“No,” Rhys says firmly, standing and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Not alone. Never alone.”
His gaze moves to me, and I straighten under the weight of royal attention. “You’ll go with your mate,” he says, nodding in my direction, “and with Locke, who has proven his loyalty and skill today. Rue will accompany you as far as Stonehearth to ensure safe passage. After that, it’s Galin’s decision how to proceed.”
Rue groans softly from his position against the wall, one hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. “Me? I was planning to have a proper bath and maybe sleep for a week?—”
“Rue,” the king says sharply, the single word cracking like a whip.
“Yes, Your Majesty. Absolutely delighted to serve,” Rue says, straightening and offering an elaborate bow that somehow manages to convey both obedience and mild sulking. “Can’t wait to trek through the wilderness with a wolf and a brooding warrior.”
Esme looks at each of us in turn, me, her father, Locke standing silent and imposing by the door, even Rue with his theatrical complaints. I can see her processing the reality of what’s being asked of her, weighing the fear of the unknown against the desperate need to reclaim what was stolen from her.
Finally, she nods once, decision crystallizing in those mirror-bright eyes. “All right. If you think Galin can help me, if there’s even a chance he can show me how to get my magic back, then that’s where I’ll go.”
Her shoulders square with a determination that makes my chest swell with pride. I can see fear in her eyes. She’s not stupid,she knows the dangers that wait outside these walls, but I can also see her fire, the stubborn strength that’s carried her through every trial life has thrown at her so far.
I reach out and wrap my hand around hers, fingers intertwining like they belong together. “We’ve got you,” I say, putting every ounce of conviction I possess into those simple words. “Whatever comes next, whatever trials or dangers or impossible tasks await us, you’re not doing it alone.”
She nods as she looks at me, trust and love shining in her expression despite everything we’ve just survived. Then her gaze moves to her father, and finally over his shoulder to where Locke stands watching us with that intense, unreadable expression.
Her voice is quiet when she speaks again, but there’s steel beneath the softness, determination that reminds me exactly why I fell in love with this extraordinary woman. “I want it back. My magic. All of it. Whatever it takes.”
The king smiles then, and for a moment he looks younger, less burdened by the weight of his crown and responsibility. He bends and places a gentle kiss on the top of her head, the gesture achingly paternal. Esme’s eyes close at the contact and she takes a deep, steadying breath as he straightens.
“Then let this be your first step, Princess,” he says, voice warm with affection and hope. “Prepare yourselves and leave as soon as possible. Now would be best, fewer eyes to mark your departure.”
We watch in respectful silence as the King moves toward the door, pausing to look back at his daughter one last time. The expression on his face is complex, love and worry and pride all tangled together with the bitter necessity of letting her go.
General Erron follows his king like a shadow, still unnaturally pristine, still setting off every warning instinct I possess. As they disappear into the corridor beyond, I make a mental note to keep Esme as far from that man as possible.My wolf may not understand fae politics, but he understands predators, and there’s something fundamentally wrong about the General’s complete lack of battle damage.
The door closes behind them with a soft thud, leaving the four of us and the two servants alone in the flickering torchlight. Silence stretches for a moment, heavy with the weight of everything that’s just been decided.
I don’t know what lies ahead of us, what trials Galin might devise, what dangers wait on the roads between here and Stonehearth, what impossible tasks we’ll have to complete to restore Esme’s magic. I know one thing with absolute certainty though, we’ll face it together.
Even if I have to walk through fire to keep her safe. Even if I have to fight gods and monsters and forces beyond my understanding. I made a vow to never fail her again, and that vow is carved into my very bones.
Whatever comes next, my Angel won’t face it alone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOCKE
