I’d been so foolishly convinced I could find a way to break the curse and wake them all through an alliance of marriage to Callan Ashfall, Autumn Prince. Now, Autumn’s king.
But my pitiful effort had been doomed from the start.
Not only that, but I was the last to know it.
The last to know who my parents were. The last to know what kind of male Callan really was, which didn’t even begin to cover the fact that he possessed compulsion—a magic long gone from bloodlines in this realm. And the last to know Amanti was still alive—thanks to her secret family. A blood relation to the male who betrayed me most.
“Was it all a lie then?” I asked, nearly choking on the words as I looked at her now. “Some ruse to spy for the Midnight Court. To learn our weaknesses. To bring us down.”
“Of course not,” Amanti insisted, eyes flashing. “I am an Aine, by vow and by choice.” Her indignation softened to affection. “And I love you, Aurelia. As I always have. I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Her words were genuine, but I couldn’t find an answer inside me. Not after so much failure and loss. So many secrets hidden away.
“Rydian and Slade found me when I was injured and neardying. They brought me back here. Keres has been healing me.”
Rydian had found her? Saved her? When? Certainly before he’d come to Grey Oak with me, where, all along, he’d known she was alive and hadn’t bothered to mention it. The truth of it choked me.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hug her until her bones protested and make the world small enough to fit my hands. I did neither.
“Why didn’t you send word?” I asked.
“Communication was too dangerous. Heliconia’s spies are everywhere. Aurelia, my loyalty and love for you are true.”
The silence stretched between us, taut as a bowstring.
And rather than break it with anything so futile as words, I turned and walked away. Back to my room where I shut the door with a firm click.
A prison cell after all.
Chapter Four
Aurelia
Someone knocked. I didn’t answer, though my body tensed, waiting to see if they’d let themselves in. A moment later, I listened to a few muted clinks, and then it went quiet again. Even then, I stayed where I was, curled on the soft bed with the blanket twisted in my fists, counting breaths and the beats of my anger until both blurred into one.
Hours drifted like a lazy current. Some part of me felt the urgency of figuring out my next move, of pushing past my hurt and shock that Amanti was alive—and had kept secrets yet again. But it wasn’t just Amanti’s presence or lies I struggled to process.
It was all of it.
Callan’s betrayal. The way he’d used his compulsion on me all this time. Duron’s attempt to trap me so he could drain my magic. Just like he’d been doing to his own people all this time. Sonoma’s death. The fact that my father was a king of Hel.
Rydian.
Somehow, his betrayal made everything worse. And now,lying in this bed alone only made me think of another bed. One we’d shared. A single, reckless night where I’d forgotten how many secrets were between us. How many reasons I had not to trust the male, who, in the end, I bared myself to anyway.
I couldn’t stay in this room forever. But in order to keep moving, I needed a plan. And settling on one that wouldn’t get me killed was proving difficult. Instead, I nursed my hurt and my outrage for as long as this room’s amenities would allow. Eventually, my stomach betrayed me with a low, traitorous growl.
Hauling myself out of bed, I rifled through the pack of clothes someone had left and found a pair of pants and a loose-fitting tunic to wear before stuffing my feet into my boots. By the time I was dressed, I was light-headed, and my stomach was knotting from hunger.
When I cracked the door at last, the corridor was empty.
A tray of food waited on the floor: a heel of bread, a wedge of hard cheese, thin-sliced salted meat, a little dish of something pickled and bright. The tea in the lidded mug was lukewarm and mint-bitter. I sat down right in the center of the open doorway and pulled the whole tray into my lap.
The food steadied the worst of my trembling hands. The fog at the edges of my sight thinned. But the quietness of the house offered no clues about my captors. Or, as Amanti put it, herfriends.
When I finished, I wiped my fingers on my pants, gathered what remained of my pride, and stepped out to face whatever waited.
The main room was empty. Not even the guard was around. I briefly considered making a run for the front door. But in the hearth, a fire crackled with enough fresh logs that I knew I wasn’t truly alone.
