"Forged with metal that fell from the sky," Sian explained. "It holds properties that are antithetical to Unseelie magic. But it's rare. Most of it was used during the war."
"I can retrieve what we have," Halian offered. "Three, maybe four blades."
"Better than nothing," Karse said. "The corruption has a way of turning regular weapons useless. They rust, decay, sometimes turn on their wielders."
"Comforting," Briar muttered.
"We'll need to coordinate our magic," Sian said. "Different courts' magic doesn't always blend well. We should practice working together before we're in actual danger."
"Tomorrow," Arion agreed. "After we've gathered supplies." He looked around the room. "Everyone should get rest tonight. We have two days of intense preparation ahead."
His gaze settled on Briar. "What about the compulsion? If Malus tries again—"
"I have a temporary solution," Eliam said curtly, his hand tightening on Briar's waist. "It's handled."
"What kind of solution?" Arion pressed, concern evident in his voice.
"The kind that works." Eliam was already guiding Briar toward the door. "We have preparations to make."
"Eliam—" Arion started.
"Two days, princeling. Focus on your supplies."
Without waiting for a response, Eliam steered Briar out of the room, leaving the others to their planning. She could feel the tension in his hand against her back, the purposeful stride that meant he had something specific in mind.
"What temporary solution?" she asked once they were in the corridor.
"You'll see," was all he said, and something about his tone made her stomach flutter with equal parts anticipation and concern.
Chapter twenty-six
The door closed behind them with a soft click. Briar watched as Eliam moved through their room with methodical precision, his shadows spreading from his fingertips to trace patterns across the floor, up the walls, around the windows. The marks he left glowed faintly before fading into invisibility, but she could feel them—a subtle pressure in the air, a tingle against her skin.
“What are you doing?” she asked, though she already suspected.
“Wards.” His voice was flat, controlled in that way that meant he was furious about something he couldn’t immediately fix. “They’ll alert me if anything crosses them.”
She watched him work, noting how the patterns seemed to concentrate around the bed, the door, the terrace. All the places she might try to leave from. The warmth in her chest pulsed with unease.
“Anything,” she repeated. “Or just me?”
He paused, his hand hovering over the windowsill. “Both.”
At least he was honest about it. She crossed her arms, trying for levity despite the fear crawling up her spine. “Why not just put a bell around my neck? Save yourself the magical effort.”
The joke fell flat. He turned to look at her, and his expression was so serious it made her stomach drop.
“Don’t.” The word came out sharp. “Don’t make light of this. You walked to him in your sleep. You almost—” He stopped, jaw clenching.
“I know.” The fear she’d been trying to suppress with humor came flooding back. “I know, I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. What if he tries again tonight? What if the wards aren’t enough? What if—”
Eliam crossed to her in three quick strides, his hands finding her face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “He won’t take you. I won’t let him.”
“You can’t stay awake forever,” she pointed out, her voice smaller than she intended. “And if he calls when you’re sleeping—”
“Then the wards will wake me.” His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones. “Every ward I’m placing is tied to me. The moment you cross one, I’ll know.”
“A magical leash,” she said, trying for bitter but landing on resigned.
