He still didn’t understand the magic of the fae or even the full extent of what it meant to be Morkaius. The implications of Morkai’s intent were enough to occupy his thoughts. If the sorcerer intended to use Teryn’s body to accomplish his means, then his first step…
“It’s because of Cora, isn’t it?” His voice came out with a tremor, even though his words were no longer shaped with vocal cords. “It’s because I am betrothed to her, and she is Dimetreus’ heir. Through her, he could position himself as future King Consort of Khero.”
Emylia’s face fell with sympathy. “That is undoubtedly his first of many steps.”
Teryn felt that agonizing urge to move, to act, to fix. Morkai was going to try to marry Cora in Teryn’s stead. Surely she’d see through him! She had her magic, her ability to sense others’ emotions. She’d notice Teryn wasn’t who he appeared to be.
Wouldn’t she?
Or would she continue to sense Teryn’s soul as his own, oblivious to the fact that he was trapped in a crystal?
His only solace was that Cora and Teryn’s marriage wasn’t set for another year. If Morkai had the patience to play such a long game, Teryn could too. He’d strengthen his vitale, reclaim his cereba, and then?—
A strange pulling sensation sent Teryn’s ethera surging forward. Morkai had left the mirror and was now exiting the room.
“You and I are bound to the crystal,” Emylia said, following after Morkai. “We are only able to project our etheras within the stone’s immediate surroundings. So when the crystal moves, so do we. If not willingly, then by force.”
Teryn caught up with the sensation pulling his ethera and measured his steps behind Morkai’s. Belatedly, he realized he probably didn’t need to walk at all. Surely the act of setting one foot before the other was only for show. An instinct belonging to the outer layer of his ethera, like how Emylia had explained about their means of communication. Should he want, he could probably float in Morkai’s wake.
The thought was as disturbing as speaking mind-to-mind had been. No matter what he was now—disembodied spirit or no—he would continue acting as alive as he could.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather rest your ethera?” Emylia asked as they trailed Morkai through the halls of the keep. “Since I have no ties to a mortal body, I don’t require rest the same way you and Morkai do now. I can keep watch and wake you if there’s anything I think you should see.”
He knew she was right, and he thought he could trust her. She was trapped, same as he. And yet, now that he knew what Morkai planned—that marrying Cora was his primary goal—he couldn’t stand the thought of not witnessing his every move.
“Just a little longer,” Teryn said. “I just want to see where he’s?—”
All thoughts fled his mind as Morkai rounded the next corner…and froze. It seemed Teryn and Morkai were of the same mind, equally as unprepared to see the person who halted before them.
Teryn’s heart thundered in a chest that was no longer his own. He breathed her name in a voice she couldn’t hear. “Cora.”
31
Athousand different things happened to Cora’s heart in the split second that she realized Teryn stood before her. First was a joyful flip, an automatic response to seeing his green eyes, the tousle of his gold-touched dark hair, the broad expanse of his chest beneath the fine silk jacket he wore. Then came the sinking, the guilt over seeing his frozen posture, the tense set of his shoulders, his look of mild shock. Next, she felt a wave of anxiety along with the reminder that she still didn’t know what to say to him. With the next beat of her rioting heart, Teryn’s composure relaxed and a casual smile crossed his face. That sent a flutter of hope, a fragile, dangerous promise that everything would be all right.
“Princess Aveline,” Teryn said with a bow.
She wasn’t sure if his formality was more of a show for the passing servants or a response to her treatment of him last night. His smile remained present, but it only made her heart shift into a new emotion. This time it was shame. Shame because she knew—regardless of those precious hopes that all would work out as she wished—she wasn’t ready to tell him about the curse.
Still, she couldn’t pretend last night didn’t happen. Nor could she avoid him. Certainly not while he was standing before her. Not when her heart was so tangled with his.
She took a step closer to him. Her muscles tensed, half with dread, half with longing, as she expected him to touch her. So badly she wanted to feel his reassuring embrace. Just as badly she feared she’d fall apart if he so much as held her hand.
But he didn’t. He made no move to reach for her at all. He remained where he was, posture tall and stiff, hands behind his back. Was he merely being respectful after last night? She extended her senses, desperate to read what he was feeling, but she got back…nothing. Perhaps her own frazzled emotions were too loud.
“Teryn, I…” The overwhelming urge to fidget sent her fingers fluttering at her sides, so she folded her hands at her waist instead. She studied his face, as if she could read the words she needed to say, written somewhere on his visage. Her eyes caught on his cheek. The light from the hall window had cast part of him in shadow, but now that she was closer, she noticed a thin slice over his cheekbone. Concern replaced her anxiety. “What happened to your cheek?”
She lifted a hand to his face, but he took a step back. With a timid smile, he covered the wound with his hand. “Ah, that. It’s embarrassing to say, but I accidentally cut myself with the straight razor while shaving. I suppose that will teach me not to travel without my valet.”
“Oh.” She frowned, noting how he hadn’t let her touch him. Releasing a slow exhale, she searched his energy again, seeking whether he was truly shying away out of embarrassment…or if it was something else. Again, she sensed nothing. Not a hint of his emotions.
At least the unexpected topic had managed to banish some of her trepidation. Before her anxiety could return, she blurted out what she needed to say. “I’m so sorry about last night, Teryn. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was just…dealing with something and I needed time alone.”
He dropped his hand from his cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said, but there was something hollow in his words. Was he hiding his hurt after all? He continued to grin but she realized it didn’t meet his eyes. “You were right to ask for space.”
“I…was?”
His expression shifted into one of resignation. Or was it apology? His smile turned sad. “I was wrong to push you into something you weren’t ready for. You accepted my proposal, but I pressured you for more.”
