I can’t even imagine what it would have been like for this gate to appear out of nowhere and then release an army intent on destroying everything in its wake. The number of humans that were lost in the waves of the first strike were staggering. More than two-thirds of their total population perished before the dragons and the other Arcs were able to best the fae and send them back where they belong.
Aeson finishes his search, and I watch him in the reflection of the glass as he tosses a fireball into the fireplace. A small pile of wood that’s already been stacked within quickly becomes a cozy crackling fire, and then the commander fixes his attention on me.
“Want to tell me what your plan is with the Blood Crafter tomorrow?” Aeson asks.
I turn to face him. “Want to tell me why you have a Blood Crafter residing at the base camp of the Fae Gate?”
“It’s classified,” he answers, walking over to the window I’m next to and tapping the glass twice until it shifts from transparent to opaque.
“Classified?” I challenge, studying the scion. “So I’m allowed to stand in front of the fucking Fae Gate of all places and have a meeting with this mysterious Matron Relacour, but I’m not allowed to know what she’s doing here?”
“Sounds about right.” Aeson shrugs and then nods toward a side table near the head of the bed. “You can keep your weapons there.”
“Is your father hiding her here or protecting her?” I ask, disarming myself of my arsenal and setting everything neatly on the table while I try to make sense of what’s going on.
If the king was trying to hide the sorcai, this place would be the best option for it. It’s secluded, fortified, impenetrable. But why would he be willing to do that?
“He’s not protecting her, just the gate,” Aeson surprisingly answers.
“So she’s connected to the gate somehow?” I question, even more confused.
“Not her specifically,” he supplies cryptically from where he’s leaning against the wall, watching me.
I throw my hands up, frustrated. “I have no idea what that means.”
“Because you’re not supposed to. It’sclassified,” he repeats, and I fight the urge to chuck a dagger at him.
“As yourmate, shouldn’t I know what the fuck is going on?”
Aeson is suddenly in front of me. I jerk back, but the wall behind me makes it so there’s nowhere to go. His muscular arms cage me in and he leans down until I’m hopelessly locked in his gaze.
“Yes, you should, but I don’t think you want to play that card right now. Not when I know you’re not tellingmeeverything. And don’t bother denying it; I know you’re up to something, I can fuckingfeelit.”
“Of course I’m up to something, I’m trying to break this stars-forsaken curse. Why is that so hard for you to believe?” I snap, beyond fed up. “I want to be whole. I want what was stolen from me. I don’t know what else you think I’m doing here, but you’re wrong. This is about the curse. It’s only ever been about the bloody curse! And don’t look at me like that,” I snap when his eyes narrow at me and that tic in his jaw pulses from the effort of biting back an argument.
I try to move out from the cage of his arms, but he traps me once again.
Fine. Here we go.
“You have no idea what it’s like to be half of yourself,” I thunder up at him. “To feel the power searing through your veins but neverbeing able to reach it. To know that vital parts of who you are, who you’re supposed to be, have been stolen from you!”
My voice cracks as I press a palm over my heart. I hate the hurt and vulnerability visible through my fissures, but he needs to understand. I need him to see all the ways I’m broken, that I will never stop trying to fix what’s been done to me for as long as I fucking live.
“Every time my dragon reaches for you but can’t get to you, it crushes me. When I watch my own kind soaring through the skies, when they reveal but I can’t, it kills me. I can’t heal. I can’t manifest an affinity. I can’t fucking protect myself,” I yell, a tear spilling down my cheek. “I walk around wearing a charm to hide what’s been done to me because I couldn’t stop it. I should have been able to stop it! I’m half of what I should be, fractured in a way you refuse to see or understand. I don’t give a fuck about the Fae Gate. I don’t have an ulterior motive. I want to be a Syphon, not a shadow of one. I want to beme.”
Anger slips from Aeson’s features, and his eyes soften. He wipes at the tears trickling down my cheeks, and then he pulls me to him, wrapping himself around me and squeezing me tightly to his chest. My arms automatically go around his waist, and I hold him just as hard. I press my face into his chest, burrowing against his warm scale armor, breathing him in, letting his presence, his scent, and his touch soothe me.
We stand like that for a while, neither of us speaking, neither of us letting go.
“Is this all we’ll ever have? Secrets and mistrust?” I murmur, breaking the silence, the sadness, and the uncertainty that’s wrapped around us. But I don’t know if the question is aimed at Aeson or if I’m asking myself.
“I don’t want that,” he confesses quietly, placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. “But every time I think we’re getting somewhere, there are more secrets.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Aeson,” I whisper, meaning it. “I don’twantto hurt you,” I add because the distinction matters too.
“Then let me in, Ever,” he pleads, and I close my eyes against the ache in his voice.
I look up at him, needing him to see the truth in my eyes. “I’m trying. It’s not that easy, not for me, but it has to go both ways. I’m not the only one holding back.”
