That it had felt…right.
Ash opened his eyes to the ceiling above, the black stone swimming with steam.
That magic should not exist. Not in the hands of a mortal-turned-fae. Not when the last of that power had been burned from the world for a reason.
He let his head loll to the side.
He could kill the human.
End it clean.
Avoid the mess of Xyliria trying to harness power she didn’t understand.
He’d eliminated lives for less. And he could blame it on Varyth’s recklessness. On bad luck. On fate. But the thought unravelled as quickly as it formed.
Because he wouldn’t.
He didn’t knowwhy, and that only pissed him off more. His jaw ticked as he ran a hand through his hair, forcing his mind to quiet.
His shadows curled tighter around his limbs, ghosting over his wounds with a touch lighter than breath. The humming started so quietly he almost missed it—a low vibration against his skin, a song without melody. Not a sound anyone else could hear, but a frequency that lived in the space between his heartbeats. His constant companions, his only true allies in this gilded prison.
But even they felt… different lately.
Louder. More alive.
And worse,hopeful.
He hadn’t sung to them in years. Not since Xyliria had poisoned every part of his existence.And yet, he had been humming again. Quietly. In the dark, when no one listened.
They’d sung back. He hated how it made him feel. As though something long buried was clawing its way back up.
He forced himself to breathe evenly, to shove it all down. The shadows throbbed against his wrist. Still waiting. Still listening.
Ashterion sighed, and whispered, “Sleep.”
And for now… they did.
44
The steady thrum of Varyth’s pulse beneath my ear woke me, the same way it had for two weeks now. His arm was a secure weight around my waist, fingers tangled in my hair like he’d been memorising the texture in his sleep.
No nightmares. No shadow fire clawing at my ribs. Just the soft morning light filtering through the curtains and the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and dewed grass that had become as familiar as breathing.
Mine, something wild and possessive whispered in the depths of my chest, and I didn’t shove the thought away this time. Didn’t let guilt claw me apart for wanting this, for taking what he offered with such devastating tenderness.
Nyxaria had been quiet since the disaster with their delegation. It wouldn’t last, we all knew that with bone-deep certainty. We’d met every day to discuss what the silence could mean.
But gods, I was going to savour every stolen moment of peace.
Varyth’s fingers ghosted along my spine, tracing lazy patterns that made me arch into him like a cat seeking warmth.He was awake, had probably been for a while, just letting me sleep curled against him like I belonged there.
Because you do, that voice whispered again.You belong exactly here.
“Morning,” he murmured against my hair, rough with sleep.
I hummed in response, nuzzling deeper into the hollow of his throat, tasting salt and power on his skin. “How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough.” His hand slid down to cup my hip, fingers digging in. “Long enough to watch you sleep and plan all the ways I’m going to keep you in this bed today.”
