Rune’s throat bobbed and the anger melted away as his eyes softened. “Vorak made you with the intention to devour you, for your magic would ascend his. He is aconsumer.” He reached out and wiped the tear from her cheek. “All demons are. We crave power, especially divine power. And now I understand why I am so possessed by you, Alora.” Rune leaned toward her, his eyes darker and gleaming with something that made her heart race. “The essence of what you are is like nectar from the forbidden tree, addicting and utterly irresistible. For that reason, you must stay here, for I no longer trust myself around you,ra’ayati.”
Her pulse slowed at the soft word, so rarely spoken and only when he was being earnest with her.
Rune’s mouth trailed over her jaw and down her throat. She stilled, closing her eyes as his fangs grazed her. His hands trembled at her waist.
His voice carried faintly in the sliver of space between them. “I fear that if I stay, I will attempt to devour you, too… and I may not stop when you beg me to.”
Then he vanished into the shadows.
Alora stared at the empty space, heart thudding. Smoke clung to the air where he had stood.
His absence left a cold ache in her chest, confusion, sadness, and something she couldn’t name. She swore the room still trembled from the weight of his admission.
A creak sounded above.
“Here I was, terribly worried my best friend was miserable with the Shadow God who spirited her away,” said an amused voice from the landing above.
Alora gasped, looking up.
Theia leaned lazily on the railing, her amber eyes gleaming with familiar mischief. “But from what I overheard… he’s quite feral for you.”
Alora laughed through a breathless sob. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to be mortally scandalized,” Theia replied with a grin. “Though I can’t decide what’s more shocking: Delphi’s delusions, or your husband’s declarations.”
Alora rushed for the stairs. Theia met her halfway and they collided in a tight embrace, the kind that squeezed every fracture closed.
They sank onto the velvet couch together, hands still tangled.
“Thank you for sending Lord Zuma,” Theia said, voice softening. “He was very kind.”
Alora arched a brow, spotting the faint blush coloring her friend’s cheeks. “Where is he now?”
Theia cleared her throat. “Outside. Chopping firewood for my hearth.”
Alora couldn’t help but smirk. “Ah. How thoughtful of him.”
“Thornbearer is allowing outsiders in for once,” Theia said. “Or perhaps she made an exception…”
But Alora’s smile faded, the dread seeping back into her bones. “I suppose it’s the least she could do … now that so much has come to light.”
Theia’s expression faltered, voice laden with concern. “I truly cannot imagine how you must feel. Are you all right...?”
Alora reached out, patting her cheek gently. “Never mind me. How is your mother?”
“She’s upstairs, resting in a room of her own. Preserved by a spell Rune cast. She sleeps like the dead, but... peaceful.”
Alora’s stomach tightened. “And you? You gave him your soul, Theia. Why?”
Her friend turned toward the window, watching Zuma in the distance. Her voice trembled. “My father’s gone. My mother was slipping. I had nothing left… so I sang the Hollow King’s song. Desperation makes fools of us all when you’re willing to do anything to save the ones you love… even giving up your soul.”
Alora squeezed her hand. “Then I can’t fault you. I gave up mine, too. For Argyle.”
“Then I suppose we will be damned together,” her friend said shakily.
A deep sadness settled in Alora’s chest. Theia didn’t deserve that, but there was nothing she could do to undo the bargain that was made.
“Have you found a way to break the curse?” Theia asked quietly, changing the subject.
