Will you become human with me?
He’d never even thought about it before. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. In those dark moments on Iona where his flames had itched at his skin, causing him so much pain that he’d had to let it out in a torrent of fire…he’d considered it then. Begged for it, in fact. To have the burden lifted.
But he didn’t know who hewaswithout his element. What if he was nothing? What if, when the fire was ripped from him, he was left black and charred, without even an ember to light his way? Of course, he wanted to give her the life she wanted, butthislife was all he’d ever known. He was scared of what he might become if he lost it.
“I know, sweetheart, I know.”
He couldn’t give her an answer. Instead, he pulled her into his body, his hand gripping her jaw as he pressed his lips to hers, tasting citrus and salt. His other hand found her hip and they both rose to their knees, the kiss deepening as they lost themselves in each other.
Flashes of a future streamed behind his closed lids as Kai’s fingers wound their way around his neck. A cottage home built with bare hands. His glowing wife waiting for him, her hands caressing a swollen belly. A hearth not kindled with a snap of his fingers but with flint and steel. Love, contentment, andher.
Is this what life as a human could look like? No war, no burning need for control, no weight of expectation on their shoulders?
Perhaps hewouldlose a piece of himself…but he’d be gaining so much more.
Chapter Forty-Three
Isla
Islatossedandturnedthroughout the night, her mind unable to rest.
Bri slept soundlessly next to her. Her friend’s soft snores filled the cave, her short black curls barely tickling her cheeks as she breathed in a steady rhythm. Since she had shown up, Bri had been sleeping on the blankets with Isla while Rynn resumed spending his nights on the other side of the cave.
She missed him, but Isla had to admit things had been strained between the two of them since she got back from Lockhurt. Or really, since he’d flown away from her that day with Celesine. She knew it was partially her fault; with the danger facing her family,theyhad become her priority. She didn’t have time to fret about her relationships, not when so much was at stake.
Isla wasn’t even sure if she could call what she shared with Rynn a true “relationship.” Didn’t that imply a future? Surely, that was something they didn’t have. And while the passion between them excited her, she didn’t think things with him should be this…difficult. She had too many other problems without adding fear of him walking out on her, silencing her, making decisions for her against her will.
There was also a seed of guilt planted within her that festered and grew with each passing day. It was like a thorn in her side, reminding her every time she spoke with Rynn—or any of the elementals—that she was hiding something from them.
The vial of blood Sebastian had given her consumed her thoughts. A way to speak with him, potentially even spy on him, and yet she’d kept it to herself for the past three days.
Butwhy? Why did she feel an inexplicable pull to that little bottle, a possessiveness that urged her to keep it a secret, that it was meant for her and her alone? It was ridiculous and dangerous and selfish, yet she kept it tucked away in the hidden pocket of her cloak, always within arm’s reach. She hadn’t even told Bri.
When she lay in her bed on sleepless nights like this one, the beasts of worry and fear woke and stretched their limbs, bared their teeth, and let their sharp claws scratch down her mind. In the short moments when sleepdidfind her, she dreamed of Arden and Papa, kidnapped and tortured at the hands of various assailants. Sometimes it was Sebastian, sometimes it was one of the elementals. The worst was when it washerholding a blade to their skin or raising a whip to their scarred backs. This was when the temptation to test the magic of Sebastian’s blood, to see if it truly brought her to him, if only so she could glimpse her family, was strongest. To make sure they were safe, as the king had promised they would be.
Jade’s words drifted back to her.You cannot always be the savior.
Her fingers jerked involuntarily toward her cloak. That’s not what she was doing. It was herfamily; of course she wanted to check on them. What would be the harm in going to Sebastian, just this one time? She could see Arden and Papa before she and her group embarked for Iona. It was the middle of the night, and nobody would even know what she’d done. It would only take a few minutes…
Isla sat up gingerly, so as not to wake Bri, and stretched her arm out to grab the cloak. Carefully fingering through the thick, soft fabric, her hand found its way into the inside pocket and gripped the vial. It was warm to the touch and sent a quick, sharp thrill through her arm. She removed her hand and scooted back to lean against the wall behind her.
Uncorking the bottle, the coppery tang of blood hit her nose. She could’ve sworn Sebastian’s scent wafted to her on the breeze, filling her with a kind of morbid expectation. Isla glanced at Rynn’s sleeping form across the cave, then down at her best friend, still snoring peacefully under the blankets.
Only a drop. That’s all she needed.
Isla closed her eyes and lifted the vial to her lips.
The metallic saltiness branded her tongue as her senses immediately dimmed. The wind whistling outside, the smoke from the dying embers in their fire pit, the rough blankets beneath her legs—all sensations dissipated into nothing. Her vision grayed around the edges, and she frantically corked the bottle before it could fall from her grasp and stain the cold stone.
Her fingers had barely curled around the glass when she lost consciousness and drifted into darkness.
She was in a bedroom. An incredibly opulent, wealthy bedroom. The walls were a deep navy, like the night sky, with gilded moldings that framed the ceiling. A door stood to her left, and a window twice her height and draped in gold fabric to the right. In the center of the large space was the biggest bed she’d ever seen; it could easily fit six of her. The headboard was solid oak, upholstered in navy fabric, and covered in matching pillows and a cream quilt. The bed looked like it had not been slept in, even though she knew it was the dead of night by the starlight sneaking through the space between the drapes at the window.
Turning in a circle to take in the rest of the space, she saw a towering bookcase leaning against the wall across the room from the door. It was made of the same dark oak as the bed and overflowing with books. Next to it, a gold-plated pedestal sat tucked in the corner of the two walls, a lit oil lamp resting on top. A lush chair with armrests and a curved back was pushed into a desk littered with scrolls, maps, pens, and ink bottles.
Her eyes cut to the door. A glass liquor cart inlaid with gold stood near the entrance, a decanter of amber liquid and short drinking glasses shining on the surface. An elegant navy couch rested against the wall.
And sitting on the cushions, one of his legs balanced on the other knee and a glass clutched in his fingers, was King Sebastian.
