I felt the heat of her breath, saw the crack in her armor where grief and fury met. Gods, she was beautiful like this—angry, alive, unstoppable. And I was an idiot for noticing when I’d already lost the right to ever touch her again.
“I made a choice to keep you safe,” I said. “If that makes me the villain, fine. But you’re still standing.”
“I would rather have taken my chances with the Obsidians if it meant never seeing you again.”
Her voice shook. Just once. It was enough to remind me that, under all that steel, she had once looked at me like I was worth saving. And I’d broken that trust.
Slade cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “I’m going to ride out and wait for word from our scouts. See if we can get a location on the Aine.”
“Thank you, Slade,” Amanti told him. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Good to see you back on your feet, Aunt.” He hugged her, exchanged a few words with the others, and left.
“Rydian,” Amanti said into the tense silence. “She can’t do what’s needed if she doesn’t understand. Tell her.”
I closed my eyes for half a second. When I opened them, Aurelia was still watching me, jaw set, firelight tracing the planes of her face.
Waiting.
Gods, I had wanted to do a better job of this part. Instead, I’d made it all worse.
“The Midnight Court isn’t what you think,” I said quietly. “The reason no one came to aid Concordia or Sevanwinds is because they can’t.”
“What do you mean they can’t? Are their hands tied behind their backs? Are they cursed to perpetual slumber like my people?”
“Not quite like Summer, but in a manner of speaking, yes, they are trapped.”
The fight in her eyes turned to wariness. “By whom?”
I sighed, knowing that once I put the truth between us, there’d be no taking it back. It would be a barrier, unbreakable, that would only create more distance. But she needed to know.
“Long before the Great War, the gods favored the Midnight fae, gifted them, and imbued them with dark magic that rivaled any other kingdom in Menryth. We respected that power and were careful about how it was wielded. We kept to ourselves. Nurtured our own people. Allowed the rest of the realm to rule their own lands how they saw fit. Ten years ago, those same gods who’d preserved our power threatened to take it away again.”
“Why?”
“In the aftermath of the Great War, the gods struck a precarious truce that lasted centuries. Three decades ago, another power rose. A new one that violated that truce, threatening to plunge the realm into pure darkness as a result.”
“Heliconia,” Aurelia said, anguish brimming in her gaze now.
“So, the gods came to us and made a new deal,” I continued. “One that ensured the survival of the realm—and our kingdom with it.”
“What kind of deal?” Aurelia asked warily.
“The Midnight heir swore an oath to the gods.” Keres scowled, as she always did about this part of the story. But I ignored her. What was done was done. We could only go forward now.
“What oath?” Aurelia demanded.
“A blood vow to protect and fight for the one fae who would prove powerful enough to stop the rise of evil and destruction. Someone chosen by the gods themselves. Butuntil such time, in order to preserve our power and our people for the moment they were needed most, the gates to our kingdom were sealed shut. And they remain so until the Chosen One we’ve been waiting for unlocks them and calls us to war.”
Aurelia paled.
“And so, we wait, our people locked inside their kingdom until it’s time,” I told her quietly, watching as she processed it all.
Her part in it.
What it all meant.
What she was expected to do.
