I shook my head, and he gave me a hard look that had me swallowing, the sound almost too loud in the empty cavern. Leaning in, he said with great gentility, “Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand why I call you Spark? You’re not Nyleeria who shares her life with a magical entity. Youare the spark.Your very being—your soul—isthe spark. Not Nyleeria.
“Your human body, your human identity—gods even your fae body—are ephemeral. When you talk ofgiving away the spark, what you’re actually saying is that you’re willing to give up your soul. And that, even if it were possible, is something none of us should ever give away. No matter what.”
My mouth went dry as words failed me. It wasn’t even what he said—stars knew I’d had moments when I’d felt that truth—it was the conviction in which he spoke about the ancients. About me. Aboutmysoul. His truth held a gravitas to it, as if the ancients themselves had bestowed this knowledge on him. I wondered what it would be like to have that kind of conviction or, I supposed, that kind of faith.
Chapter 43
Surrounded
“Nyleeria,” a familiar voice whispered into my ear, calling me from the realm of dreams. I roused, feeling groggy. As I blinked and my eyes adjusted to the low light of the large cavern, panic sliced through me. Eyes wide, I took in a breath through my nose, readying to scream through the cool hand over my mouth.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned. I trembled under his weight, a glint of retribution playing in those blue-gray eyes. The ones I knew all too well. The ones that belonged to King Thaddeus Artimus Alton the Third.
Despite his warning, I screamed and thrashed. Unable to grab a blade, my panic doubled, dousing my ability to call forth my magic.
Come on. Come on. Come on.
Nothing.
Not knowing what else to do, I opened my mouth as best I could with the harsh pressure of his hand against it and bit down as hard as I could.
“Bitch,” he roared before backhanding me.
I rolled onto my hands and knees, not feeling the ache that should’ve bloomed across my face from the force of the hit, and was grateful for my fae body as I slipped a dagger into each hand and jumped to my feet, ready to defend myself.
“Whoa, Spark. It’s me,” Artton said, his large frame menacing from the shadows the fire cast across his features.
Still crouching, I looked around, eyes wild as I searched for Thaddeus. “Where is he?” I said, my voice betraying the fear coursing through my veins.
“Who?” Sidrick asked from my other side, and I stepped back, raising my blades a little higher.
“Thaddeus,” Kaelun guessed, only it felt more like he knew.
I nodded, focus darting to the darkest corners of the cavern for him.
“He’s not here,” Kaelun said. “We just came in from the final watch to wake you and get ready to leave. I promise, no one passed us.”
He looked to his brother, who must have been on watch with him, as he nodded in confirmation before saying, “And there’s only one entrance.”
“I didn’t feel any magic, which means no one valenned in,” Kaelun added.
While the logical side of my mind believed them, their words did very little to lighten the boulder settled firmly in the pit of my stomach—though I did re-sheath my daggers.
I’d experienced dreams like that before. Had searched for Tarrin in the dark recesses of one as he took his last gurgling breaths, only to find him half-dead in real life days later. “Something’s not right,” I said. Tarrin’s features shifted from curious to concerned as I stared at him, unable to get the wet sounds of his lungs slowly drowning on his own blood out of my mind. Trying to dispel the memory, I turned my focus to the summer commanders. “Do you remember the first night I slept in the Summer Court?As fae?” I added.
“You destroyed your room and took down the wards, Spark. It’s not something any of us are bound to forget.”
Right. I’d been so shaken by the dream itself that the aftermath played a much smaller role when I looked back on it. “This was like that, Artton.” I shook my head. “Something isn’t right.” My eyes darted back and forth between the two commanders, imploring them to believe me.
Crossing his arms, Artton eyed me for a moment, the muscles in his strong jaw feathering as he chewed on my words. “We know for a fact the king wasn’t physically here.”
I went to interject, but with his arms still crossed he raised a finger to let him finish.
“But,” he said, drawing out the word, “that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you. Stranger things have happened with your powers—that’s for sure.”
“Like having a vision give up Thaddeus’ secrets,” Tarrin muttered.
Artton cocked an accusatory brow at him.
