“I don’t know what would happen, Nyleeria. But I pray to all who would listen that we never have to find out—do you hear me?”
“I don’t pray for those things anymore. I only pray for the pain to go away.”
“Oh, Nyleeria,” he breathed.
And as if something in that shared truth was a secret passcode, the dream faded and we awoke, the sun already lighting the land.
Silently, we sat up and stared into the depths of each other’s souls, as if needing to steep ourselves in our waking reality before being fully released from the dream’s barbs.
I wondered then if my powers had pulled Endymion into the dream, just like my magic had protected me within the dome; only, this time, it knew that the protection I needed, the help I didn’t know how to ask for, wasn’t physical at all.
Later, as we were about to head out, Endymion turned to me. There was an air of assertion around him that I hadn’t seen from him since the Summer Court, and I readied myself for the carefully considered words I knew would follow.
He took in a deep breath. “Nyleeria,” he started, his voice firm but kind, “I need you to tell me what you’re okay with and what you’re not ready for. If you’re not ready to talk, I won’t force it. If you’re not ready to ride together, that’s okay too. But please do not, under any circumstances, pretend like something is okay if it’s not. If there is any part of you that’s not comfortable, no matter how small or how inconsequential you think it is, please tell me. No more pushing through, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he repeated, unsure.
“Okay,” I promised.
He looked at me as if waiting for me to rescind the words, but I didn’t.
Endymion watched me as I looked up at the saddle, then to him. “I’m not ready to share a saddle with you,” I admitted, “but I would like to walk next to you…if you’ll have me,” I added, a little unsure.
He smiled brightly. “I would be honored to walk with you.” And surrounded by the vibrant colors of autumn, a tiny fraction of warmth slipped in through an unguarded fissure, and a tug pulled at the corner of my lips.
We walked for hours, mostly silent, but the quiet between us wasdifferent now—comfortable, even. Something about Endymion understanding the dark crags of my soul helped me feel less…alone.
“Endymion?”
“Yes, Nyleeria?” His tone was light, and he cocked a questioning brow.
“You’re the second-in-command in the Autumn Court, right?”
“I am.”
“So, why are you helping me? Shouldn’t you have taken me straight to Wymond?”
“I should have—at least, those were my orders.”
“Why go against your high lord? Won’t he kill you for this?”
A smirk. “He can try.” His words were laced with arrogance, but then he paused, considering. “What Thaddeus and Wymond want…goes against everything I believe in, everything I stand for. You, the spark, were necessitated because leaders like them thought there was only one path forward. We can’t repeat that dark history, Nyleeria. I’d never support such a thing.”
Every fiber of my being agreed with him, just like every fiber of my being had recoiled when I’d heard how Thaddeus planned to protect his people.
“How did Wymond know I had the spark? And does everyone know?” I was curious what had given me away.
“Wymond—”
“Can you hear that?” I asked, moving toward the faint cadence beckoning me.
“Hear what?”
How couldn’t he hear it?
“Nyleeria, where are you going?”
