“And you, High Lord,” I said, offering him an awkward curtsy.
Why had I just done that?
His mouth twitched up. “Please, there’s no need for such formalities—Caius is fine.”
I didn’t respond, still unsure why I’d been so formal in the first place.
As Caius closed the short distance between us, he shared a look with Endymion that seemed to hold a meaning I couldn’t decipher. Did they know each other—truly know each other? No doubt they’d crossed paths many times over the centuries, but the silent exchange between them seemed born out of closeness, not familiarity.
I shook the thought from my mind as the High Lord stepped close enough that I had to tilt my chin up a fraction to meet his eyes. He offered a welcoming smile as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder in a kind welcome.
As if electrified by his touch, a bolt of terror tore through me, and everything seemed to still, like the fates themselves were holding their breath. In a painfully slow movement, I looked down at the hand that connected us, then back to his face—his broad smile still bright, as if nothing had happened. With each moment that passedin that timeless space, my world tilted, as though his touch were a boulder crashing through a cabinet of the finest porcelain.
Helplessly, I watched in slow motion as my fragile delusion shattered into a million jagged pieces—each one stabbing me with the truth.
This was not a dream.
I was fae.
“No. Gods, no,” I gasped.
Lady Time released her hold, and I staggered away in haste, needing to distance myself from Caius’ branding touch.
“Nyleeria.” Endymion took a quick, cautious step toward me, his countenance sharpening like a drawn bowstring.
“No,” I choked out, shaking my head. “No.”
He took another step, now closer than Caius. I staggered back a few paces, desperate to put space between myself and this new reality. Both of them stilled, eyes widening as my heel caught on something, and I tumbled backward. Unable to catch myself, a sharp rush of air burst from my lungs on impact.
I couldn’t breathe; the air pressed in as if truth had stripped it of oxygen. Panting, I rolled onto my knees, palms pressed to the soft rug that had tripped my retreat.
In a flash, Endymion knelt before me.
“Nyleeria, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, reaching for me.
“Don’t you fucken touch me,” I snarled, twisting out of his grasp—the vitriol in my voice shocking him, and me.
He froze, and Caius’ stunned glance between Endymion and me didn’t go unnoticed.
My shoulders heaved with uneven breaths as I clawed at my chest, fisting the light fabric of my shirt, my lungs straining for air. My ragged breathing was the only sound, save for the rustling of summer beyond the open arches. Neither of them moved, as if afraid of spooking a stray doe—or perhaps, in that moment, I was something closer to a wild beast.
You’re fae.
The words reverberated through me. And gods fucken damn it, I’d never been more terrified of two words in my entire life.
For what felt like an eternity, I just took in heavy breaths and shook my head in wild, helpless disbelief.
Slowly, my breathing steadied, and I unfurled my fingers from the fabric of my shirt—an ache settling into my joints from how tightly I’d clutched it. Endymion looked as though he’d finally taken a breath himself, his shoulders easing a fraction, though he remained still.
I glanced past him to Caius, whose expression twisted with something like sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a sharp sound split the air. I cried out, pressing my hands against my head as a cacophony of deafening noises crashed over me, like every sound I’d ever heard, or ever would, was thrust upon me all at once.
But louder than all the chaos was the haunting echo of Endymion’s words:You’re fae.
Chapter 2
Bitter Truths
“Nyleeria, can you hear me?”
