Taking a breath, Alora reached out with her will and called the magic home. The jar glowed brighter, like the waking ofa sleeping star. Something shook in her soul, and the light slammed into her like a riptide with a force that left her drowning.
Magic roared through her veins, pathways lighting across her skin like streaming starlight.
Her knees buckled. A scream clawed its way up Alora’s throat as a thousand sensations exploded beneath her skin. It stole her breath. Her hold on the world. Her lips parted in a gasp of pain when a force split into her head. Alora clutched her skull, her vision skewing.
Memories cascaded like a river breaking through a dam. A hand in hers beneath a violet moon. A kiss by firelight. A promise in the dark. Wind wrapping around her as she danced beneath the moon with a shadow in the dark.
The magic swept through Alora, carrying her away.
Through memory.
Through the past.
And the world bent.
CHAPTER 56
Alora
Twilight cast the forest in shades of lavender and fading gold, painting the trees with the hush of evening.
Alora wandered into the wood as she sang, her bare feet soundless on the carpet of clover, a woven basket of berries hooked over one arm. The lilting melody called to the birds who chirped along as the fairies listened.
And so did another.
He came through the dusk like a dream stitched from shadows. A black horse carried him, hooves silent over root and stone. The rider in black wore a crimson cape, his long black hair loose, his eyes gleaming with mirth and secrets. Alora stilled as he dismounted, heart fluttering against her ribs.
“I feared I was under a spell of the forest,” he said, approaching with a courtly bow. He took her hand and kissed it lightly. “But your song led me to you.”
Alora’s breath caught somewhere between caution and curiosity. He was so terribly beautiful with eyes like copper, she thought him fae, but he was human.
One of royalty by the black crown on his brow.
“Oh, hello…” Alora greeted, lowering into her a curtsy. “Have we met before? You seem familiar.”
He gave her a sly smile. “Perhaps in a dream.”
She laughed softly, lowering her gaze. “This is the Midlands, land of the fae. You’re not permitted to be here. How did you get in past the wards?”
“Magic, perhaps.” He grinned. “You have put me under your spell.”
“Certainly not. What kingdom do you hail from?”
“One too far from here.”
She frowned, suspicion blooming.
“It is a small court beyond the mountains,” he amended with a dramatic sigh, voice warm and wistful. “Too insignificant to be acknowledged in most circles.”
Her gaze drifted to the crest of a dragon embossed on the silver pauldron at his shoulder.
“And your family name?”
He gave a faint smile. “I had one, once. But I have since renounced my House. Please don’t tell anyone I’m here. I have run away.”
She raised her eyebrows, intrigued. “Run away from what?”
“Destiny. Circumstance. My father’s expectations,” he said with a shrug, though she heard a hint of bitterness. “And you? What brings a beauty with the voice of a songbird into the woods alone?”
