I cringed inwardly at the unspoken disapproval he surely felt, and as the seconds ticked, resentful anger began curdling my blood until I couldn’t contain it. “What a disappointment your precious Spark is.” The sardonic words were sour on my tongue.
“Is that how they made you see yourself?”
I whipped my head in his direction. “What do you meansee myself?” I scoffed, incredulous.
“As something, not someone.”
His words caught me off guard, and I faltered for a response as I studied his features, searching for the evidence of mockery that I’d surely find. I came up short, which forced me to swim in their sincerity, and within seconds I damn near drown in their truth.
I wassomethingto be used by Thaddeus. Andsomethingto be discarded by my family.
My eyes burned, and through them I saw Endymion’s expression soften at the truths my expression must have revealed.
I chewed on the inside of my lip, playing it all back.
Thaddeus had tracked me down as if I were treasure to claim. Had dressed me up like a doll to be presented to the Summer Court. Even now, he hunted me as if I were a belonging to be returned. His possessiveness of me had been so pervasive that he’d tortured Tarrin and Nevander with our intimacy—even though, in a twisted way, I’d been shared regardless. A fact so violating I couldn’t even bringmyself to think about it, about how I’d shared my bed with not one, but two phantom lovers. Bile rose, and I had to force myself to swallow.
“Nyleeria, what’s wrong?” Endymion asked, brows furrowing.
“You’re right,” I said, voice low. “I was just a potential source of power to him, nothing more.”
Endymion’s narrowed gaze bore through me for a long moment before he spoke. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I hated him for asking me. For even knowing to ask. I wanted to yell at him. To tell him it was none of his business. ThatIwas none of his business. And just before I threw my anger at him, the damned magic deep in my chest stirred, as if reaching out for him—asking me to trust him with this truth.
I shook my head, trying to kick the sensation back down to where it came from, because I would anchor to no one. Besides, there was nothing he could do about the sick bond—the damage was already done.
Scooping the tomes, I stood up, and he immediately did the same. I tilted my chin to meet his gaze and forced a smirk.
“You’re out of questions, Commander.”
His jaw ticked, and I turned my back on him before he had a chance to respond—or for me to change my mind.
Chapter 13
Temper. Temper.
Ihadn’t slept a wink that night.
After dismissing myself from Endymion, I hunkered down in my residence, which—courtesy of Fenyte—magically housed its own mini library in the room off to the right of the living area. Kai dropped off food that I nibbled on between passages, and although I was grateful for her taking care of me, I couldn’t help but feel a prickle of annoyance at her intrusion, which had me wondering if it’d carried over from my conversation with Autumn’s Second.
I couldn’t shake Endymion’s words about half-truths and assumptions being a caveat of war—both of which I was guilty of. And with the unending questions Endymion and I seemed to have of each other, one thing was clear—he, Caius, and I needed to have a candid conversation, soon.
I sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the two dozen or so books I’d pulled from the shelves and scoured them for information that would corroborate what I’d already learned to bolster my knowledge so that I could hold my own in the conversation.
With Endymion holding a powerful role in the Autumn Court, Iwas able to verify his account of the Great Curse with ease. The records were meticulous, confirming that at five years old he was one of thousands of orphans who weretaken inby the Axelian Army—or what I discerned as forced conscription. No text outright said it, but life in the militant court was harsh, brutal even. With so many initiates and officers taxing their resources, Wymond decreed it mandatory for any officer under a certain rank to participate in their annual war games—a four-week competition where the number of fellow officers one slaughtered would determine what rank they’d be elevated to. Luckily, this didn’t include initiates until they hit a certain age; then they’d have to survive like everyone else to become an officer. From what I could gather, the games had been abolished nearly two hundred years ago by Amos and Caius’ father after the Autumn Court launched a full assault on the Winter and Summer Courts, which ended in heavy sanctions, although I couldn’t find the reason behind it or what the sanctions were.
With each piece of information I collected on the Autumn Court, I couldn’t help but think of the amount of blood that stained Endymion’s hands as the highest-ranking officer of their army. It was another facet of him I found difficult to reconcile with all the others.
What surprised me was how little I could find on Artton and Sidrick, and I wondered if I’d have to ask Fenyte for texts on them specifically. I did learn that Caius had only been High Lord of the Summer Court for twenty years, which is when he’d appointed his second and third, though information on how his late parents were claimed by Father Death was sparse.
First light began peeking over the hills as I lay in bed, mulling everything over, and deciding what my next move was. As it stood, I only saw one path; I had to talk to Caius and Endymion—today.
Determination fueling what my lack of sleep couldn’t, I flung the sheets off and got ready.
Getting a better sense of where things were in the palace, I smiled to myself for only getting lost once as Iwalked down the final hallway to Caius’ study; and then realized that was only true if my assumption that he’d be there was correct.
Reaching for the handle on one of the towering glass doors, a small smile pulled my lips up as Caius’ deep timbre reverberated through the glass. Cracking the door open, I peered around the corner to find Caius, Artton, Sidrick, and Endymion sharing an intimate breakfast at a smaller table on an expansive dawn-lit veranda.
