he asked, voice quiet.
Will you return?
He didn’t speak it, but she could feel the question linger in the air. Alora couldn’t answer. Because if she came back, she might forget who she was before him.
“Then…” Alora hesitated. “I would like to go home. Argyle was left under Calveron’s control. And my friend, her mother has fallen to the Sleeping Curse. She needs me. My people need me. I have to go back.”
Rune’s jaw tightened and he looked away.
Alora grabbed his hand, desperate now, her voice soft but pleading. “Please, Rune. You said I’m not a prisoner.”
For a long, heavy moment, he didn’t move. Shadows coiled restlessly at his boots.
Then he exhaled and said, almost reluctantly, “Very well. We can discuss it … after you join me for dinner.”
She blinked. “Dinner?”
Rune’s lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Tomorrow night, the seven factions will gather to celebrate Samhain. It is the turning of the season before autumn falls into winter. There will be a banquet, chaos, and far too much wine. As my queen, your presence is expected.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand, so feather light it sent a soft current over her skin. “It is, as you say,tradition.”
His tone was lighter, but his gaze was still guarded.
Alora nodded, willing to agree to whatever he asked if it meant she could leave. “All right… and have you learned anything more of the Sleeping Curse?”
He hesitated, the pause long enough for her to notice. “A few minor leads,” he said finally. “None that proved useful.”
“Oh.”
Her heart sank with despair.
For all his power, even Rune was no closer to unraveling the spell that bound her fate. A small, sharp part of her wondered if he had stopped searching altogether, but she forced the thought away. He had sworn a vow never to lie to her. And for now, she needed to believe that meant something.
Before she could ask more, the air shimmered and Calla appeared in a puff of smoke, bowing gracefully. “My queen, your guest is stable now. He remains unconscious, but I have healed his wounds.”
Alora sighed with relief.
Guilt flickered in her chest when she saw Rune’s expression change. He looked down at their linked hands and his fingers tightened slightly, before he let go.
“Best not keep him waiting then,” Rune said, voice deceptively smooth. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he strode away. “Do be sure to rest. Tomorrow will be… eventful.”
The shadows stirred, swallowing him before she could answer, leaving the echo of his presence in the flickering light.
CHAPTER 30
Alora
The mountain was alive with excitement.
Drums echoed through the halls, low and rhythmic, like a heartbeat deep in the stone. The air shimmered faintly with gold motes of magic, caught between the torches that burned green and blue.
Alora’s window gave her a rare view of the dark courtyard far below, illuminated with roaring fires within the braziers. And it was swarming with demons. Some winged, some horned, all dressed in finery that glittered with infernal light.
Calla circled her like a serpent admiring its reflection, tugging the golden ties of her gown until the bodice molded perfectly to her form. The gown itself was scandalous, woven shadow over sheer black silk, a pattern of flame that clung to her hips and shimmered when she breathed.
“Too much?” Alora asked nervously.
“Not enough,” Calla purred, fastening an onyx clasp at her shoulder. “Modesty is not known to our kind. Better to look like you belong at his side.”
Rune had sent the gown hours ago but hadn’t come himself. He was somewhere below, overseeing preparations.
