Those words stung in a way Nyte never could have anticipated not because of the past, but because of the present. Because of Ember.
Because he wanted nothing more than to give her his heart, and that was exactly why he had to resist. That he’d become so enamored with Ember as to willingly disregard the painful lessons he’d learned wasn’t romantic, it was alarming.
Besides, once she had his heart, what need would she have for him again?
He told himself that such a notion ran against everything he knew about her, but he could shake neither the thought nor the unsettling sensation in his gut that accompanied it.
Nyte speared his fingers into his hair beside his horns, dragging his claws over his scalp. If only that bit of pain, or the chill in the air, oranythingwere enough to clear his mind and alleviate the fiery, crushing pressure in his chest.
Ten days…he needed to endure just ten more days, and then he would be free. Free to escape this torturous temptation, free to…
To wallow in despair?
Bowing his head, he lowered his gaze to the roof.
Was that really what he intended to do once the spell broke? Slink back into a dark pit, tail tucked between his legs, and waste away as eons crawled by?
When he felt the familiar arcane pulse that signaled Starling’s arrival, he didn’t bother lifting his head. “What do you want?”
The sprite’s glow cast Nyte’s shadow long and dark across the shingles, the shadow shrinking as she came closer.
“Why are you still up here moping?” Starling demanded. “You are wasting time, you foolish demon!”
Nyte’s brow furrowed. There was something layered into her voice, something more than her impatience and annoyance. Was it…a hint of concern?
Starling fluttered to his front, calling his eyes to her, and planted her hands on her hips. “Go to her. Before I force you to do so.”
Nyte tilted his head, studying his little friend. There was an odd urgency in her voice, an uncharacteristic tension in her posture. She’d appeared to him several times over the last week, repeatedly scolding him about his lack of progress with Ember, but she’d never seemed so off the other times.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She thrust her hands out in an exasperated gesture. “You! Why are you so determined to let her slip through your fingers?”
But he was watching her closely now, and he didn’t miss the tightness in her brow or the erratic twitch in the beating of her wings.
“Starling…”
The sprite offered an exaggerated shrug, turning her face away from him.
He lifted a hand and gently nudged her middle with a crooked finger. She grabbed the digit with two clawed hands, tensing as though to push it away, but stopped when he gently said, “Starling, please.”
She squeezed his finger, let out a miniscule huff, and withdrew to hover back and forth in the air before him. “Fine. I did not want to speak of it, because you are moody enough already, but if you will not give me peace…”
Nyte’s brows fell. There was so much there to which he could’ve responded, but he chose to let her continue. It was the easiest thing to do, and his existence had been sorely lacking ease for what felt like millennia.
“All right, so, you are no longer in the Pit of Despair, which is good, yes? Great even!” The sprite continued flitting back and forth, gesturing with all four hands as she spoke, only occasionally looking at him. “And you are even making progress. Finally breaking this shell you formed around yourself. Even if you are beingstubborn.”
She shot him a glare to emphasize that last word. “But you were there for a long, long time—in Despair, I mean—and your sudden absence has drawn some attention. And it is not that attention is a bad thing, because some attention is good, like the attention Ember shows you, but…”
Everything within Nyte stilled, and all sound faded from his perception. The tightness in his chest intensified to an impossible degree, and that old, bitter pain roared through him, clawing at his soul from within.
“But what?” he rasped, the words like broken glass slicing his throat.
Starling paused, arms falling to her sides, and drew in a deep breath. Her mouth opened as though she meant to speak again, but it was several seconds before anything came out, and her voice was particularly small when she spoke. “Sarnessa knows.”
Nyte’s hands curled into fists, claws biting into his palms. “Knows what?”
“That you are out. And she miiiight be looking for you…”
