“Myron,” she said, shifting that distaste toward the high lord before sweeping a hand in my direction.
Her magic, as soft and gentle as her, settled on me. The bloodstains faded, and the dress mended itself until it was as good as new.
Myron gave her an apologetic look, and then all eyes turned to me.
“What happened, Nyleeria?” Caius’ voice was that of the high lord once more, all traces of the familiarity we’d shared during our dance now gone. I could tell from his eyes that rage was burning deep within him, not directed at me but at what had happened.
I sat up and took a moment before answering, trying to collect myself. “I was on my way back to the king with Tarrin, and then he stopped me. Ordered me onto the dance floor. Amos, I mean,” I clarified, trying to rein in my racing thoughts. “While we danced, he spoke about my heartbeat, how there’s something wrong with it, then pelted me with questions that I just…I couldn’t answer, even if I wanted to. He made his hatred for humans clear, telling me it stemmed from before some spell that wiped magic from our memories. Then, when he wasn’t satisfied with what I had to say, he encased us in some sort of…bubble. It felt like we’d been transported to a wholly different place. He demanded to know who I was and why I was here, and when I had nothing to offer him, he tortured me. The next thing I remember is lying on the dance floor.”
My voice had remained steady, if not stilted, but as I finished, a tear betrayed me and slid down my cheek. The king reached to wipe it away, but I flinched, knowing instantly what I’d revealed. The energy of the room went taut in understanding.
Fiora stepped closer to me. “Nyleeria, hon, what exactly did Amos do to you?”
“I think it was abundantly clear,” I said, raising my healed wrists in demonstration.
Caius went to open his mouth, but the king interrupted him. “That’s enough.”
The message was clear—we were done talking about it. Which I was grateful for. I couldn’t handle them staring down at me with their pitying looks.
Without a second thought, I stood up, smoothing out my magically mended dress. Slackened faces stared back at me. With the healing, I felt good enough, and I wanted to busy my mind—perfectly content to pretend like it had never happened and lock it away in the same vault that held my grief and hope.
“What are you doing?” Tarrin asked after a moment, the only one brave enough to voice what everyone else was thinking.
“Well, I’m fine, and this is about celebrating Lord Caius and the Summer Court. So”—I sighed—“I’m going back to do just that, celebrate. It’s been over five hundred years, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a few scrapes and bruises get in the way of this momentous occasion.”
I didn’t give them a chance to object, or for me to change my mind, and strode toward the door.
Chapter 24
Unintentional Observations
Afew strides into the hallway, the king intercepted my path, forcing me to stop and face him. His gaze was sharp with concern as he searched for answers. At the risk of fracturing under the barrage of unspoken questions, I turned my head away.
“Nyleeria?” he whispered, that same concern probing for a response.
“Please, not right now,” I said, looking up at him.
His jaw clenched and the lines between his brows deepened. After a moment, he silently threaded his arm through mine, escorting me back to the celebration, and my knees almost buckled into his sturdy grip.
Mercifully, we didn’t have to make our way down the grand staircase again.
The king held on to me tight enough that, as we reentered the room, I doubted he’d let me stray from his side for the rest of the evening. I wondered then what it must’ve been like for him when I’d disappeared. How he would have ached to protect me with a spell, just like that place deep within me had wanted to be unleashed. Bothof us had resisted the urge, knowing what it could cost us. I brushed my thumb in a long, soft stroke across the back of his hand, knowing the toll such restraint would have taken on him, and his own thumb echoed in response.
As we walked further into the festivities, whispered murmurs followed us. Some stole quick glances, while others unabashedly looked me over, assessing. The more brazen of them even wrapped their powers around me, us, searching for answers. They all coiled away empty-handed as I forced myself to outwardly ignore the intrusion.
Caius made a toast in gratitude to his guests, the Mother, the stars, and whatever else they prayed to. I was half there, half back in that bubble of terror.
“You’re freezing,” the king whispered, looking down at me.
“Am I?” I asked, already forgetting what he’d said, and then the cheers and clapping of the crowd jostled me into the present.
After the speech, we made our rounds, meeting various courtiers. The introductions felt like a blur, and my focus eluded me much like an unspooling thread slipping through desperate fingers. While I performed the necessary pleasantries, the lively, curious woman I’d been an hour before had fallen silent, sullen, even. I was grateful to the king for carrying the lion’s share of the conversations and prompting me when required.
“I’m sorry?” I said, forcing myself to focus on Fiora, her beautiful voice pulling me out of my haze.
“Your last dance partner of the evening has been patiently waiting,” she repeated, gesturing behind her to a stranger with his back to us as he took in the flow of dancers.
“No,” the king said flatly.
