“I need to learn,” I continue, my voice rising. “I need to train. To make myself better, so no one ever has to sacrifice themselves for me again.”
Alivar tilts his head, studying me with calm patience that only fuels my irritation. “You’re forcing something that will come in its own time. Magic isn’t something you learn to control overnight.”
“No shit!” I explode, throwing my hands in the air. “But I’m still going to try!” My voice reverberates in the quiet room, the words heavy with desperation.
Valric and Alivar exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable.
Finally, Valric speaks, his voice gentler now but no less firm. “Trying is one thing. Endangering yourself in the process is another. If you really want to honor Maxon, you need to survive this. Not just endure it.”
I know he’s right.
I also know that if I have any chance of getting to Maxon, I need my strength. My heart squeezes painfully. I wish I could reach him, see if he’s okay.
“We have set your coronation for a week’s time.”
A jolt of surprise shoots through me, making my heart pound in my chest. “A week? Why so quickly?”
“At a time like this, the kingdom needs something to come together for. Bringing your people home and uniting them will do that. For too long, they have been scattered, living in shadows, hiding from the fear of what might happen to them. You—your coronation—represent hope.”
Hope.
The word lands like a stone, sinking deeper with every second. I shake my head, trying to muster some sense of control over the emotions threatening to spiral out of me.
“But I’m not ready. How am I supposed to lead a kingdom when I can barely keep myself together?”
Alivar steps forward. His hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes gently. “You’re already their queen. This just makes it official.”
My throat tightens as his words sink in. Nerves swarm through my body, twisting my stomach into knots and sending a hum of energy rippling under my skin.
“It feels like everything’s falling apart,” I whisper.
“It’s not,” he says firmly. “It’s falling into place.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Maxon
It’s been two days since the Shadoweaver revealed herself, and I haven’t seen another living soul. The oppressive darkness of this place seems alive, shifting and breathing as though it means to swallow me whole. Faint shuffling sounds come and go without warning, and whispers echo in the shadows—just on the edge of comprehension. They’re maddening, like distant voices mocking my isolation, or perhaps my sanity.
No food or water has come.
My bucket ran dry yesterday, even though I rationed what little I had.
The ache in my gums and the gnawing void in my stomach are constant companions now, relentless in their torment. Yet, they pale compared to the aching within my chest. The longing I feel.
Fuck, I miss her.
I close my eyes, letting her memory bloom in the darkness. Her golden hair, as radiant and warm as sunlight itself, cascading over her shoulders in waves that seem woven from starlight.
The way her golden aura shines so brightly it could light up the darkest corners of the world—and it does. For me.
I can almost feel her, her warmth against my fingertips, soft skin beneath my touch. My breath hitches as the memory sharpens—her lips parting in a breathy moan as I pressed into her, the way she clung to me, her nails raking my back as she cried out my name.
A traitorous heat floods through me, my cock stiffening against the rough fabric of my pants. It’s obscene, this response amidst such dire circumstances, but I can’t stop it. The hunger for her is primal, a fire burning hotter than any physical starvation. It’s not just her body I crave, but her presence, her light, her everything.
I shake my head violently, trying to dispel the image, but it clings to me, taunting. My breathing quickens, echoing too loudly in the oppressive silence. The whispers grow louder, their cadence almost rhythmic now, like a chant. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I can’t tell if it’s from the memory of Everly or the unrelenting pressure of this cursed place.
The shadows deepen, their edges shifting unnaturally. Something is watching. I can feel it.
