Exhaustion clung to me, and my brows knit together as I tried to remember who he was. I knew I’d met him, but…
“What is it, Artton?” Endymion asked, the spoken name shaking the memory loose. He was Caius’ second—the fae who’d valenned the king and me from the human realm to the Summer Court.
“What the fuck happened?” Artton said, casually gesturing to our general surroundings. I followed his gaze and did a double take. The flowers I’d been enchanted by moments before were decayed, some of them crumbling to ash that floated away on the light breeze that seemed to perpetually grace the corridor.
Wide-eyed, I swallowed and glanced between them, feeling a prickle of anxiety at the base of my neck.
“Nothing,” Endymion said.
I shot him a look of disbelief at the same time as Artton snorted. A conspiratorial smirk revealed a tiny dimple in his right cheek—the lightheartedness easing a fragment of my fear. “Yeah, I can see that.” He chuckled, then shook his head. Humor still in his voice, he said, “Well, when you’re done dealing withnothing, Caius wants to meet.”
“Understood.” Endymion’s tone was a clear dismissal.
The summer fae looked like the cat that ate the canary as he took another quick look around. “You know, if this is your idea ofnothing, then I’d hate to see?—”
“Artton,” Endymion cut in.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll let Caius know you’ll join us…” He let the final word hang, waiting for Endymion to respond.
“As soon as I can.”
“As soon as you can. Great. I’m sure the High Lord will be thrilled by the specificity.”
Endymion’s eyes narrowed, and Artton flashed him a wide grin, offering a mock salute before vanishing.
Alone again, I took in the devastation surrounding us. An uncomfortable mixture of feelings brewed at the sight of it, and I was unsure if the damage was from my powers, Endymion’s, or both.
As if sensing my mounting distress, the autumn fae offered me a small smile. “It’s nothing magic can’t fix.” Then he leaned down to retrieve my daggers, wiped the blades on his leathers as if it were an unconscious habit, handed them back to me, and turned on his heel to continue forward as if nothing had happened.
Stunned, I stared after him for a moment before silently following in his shadow, too shocked—or perhaps too tired—to do anything else.
Shortly after, Endymion stopped and faced me. “This will be your residence,” he said, indicating a white rose archway to his right.
Staying put, I raised a questioning brow.
“Nyleeria,” he said with a sigh, and I couldn’t help but feel the plea in his own exhaustion. “Call this place home, or don’t. Either way, Caius has promised this residence to you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that for as long as you live, you will always have a place to come back to.”
I swallowed, both touched and petrified by the implications. Nyleeria from a year ago might have swooned at the offering. But the one who stood before the towering fae now quaked in equal measures of fear and fury—the former bracing for betrayal, the latter bucking against the lack of choice.
“Why don’t we just start with tonight,” he said, as if knowing exactly where my thoughts had gone.
“Tonight,” I whispered to myself. There was something about the impermanence of that one simple word that allowed the tiniest fragment of comfort to slip past the hardened chrysalis of emotion that had formed out of necessity.
My focus drifted to the other side of Endymion, where another archway stood proud. Although it wasn’t so much an archway as an arched tunnel of flowers, which were familiar in a way.
I took a step toward it, sensing Endymion’s eyes on me as I gazed into its depthless beauty. Instead of being covered in endless white roses like its twin at my back, this one bloomed in glittering onyx, revealing sapphire and indigo hues as it danced in the light. It was dark. And brooding. And…beautiful. My fingers tingled, as if the spark wanted to experience my curiosity too.
I obliged, lifting my hand and closing my eyes as the magical resonance of the archway played across my fingertips like the thrum on the skin of a drum. A subtle pull tugged in the opposite direction, drawing my gaze toward where it called—toward Endymion.
Palm outstretched before him, he looked at me with unbridled curiosity as I concentrated. The same tingling vibration reverberated through me, and as I caught his gaze, I realized where I’d seen the particular blend of coloring that adorned the tunnel.
“It’s yours,” I said, lowering my hand. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew with absolute certainty they were true. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one Caius had offered a home to—which was more than curious, unless all seconds were given residences in other courts.
His throat bobbed. “Yes.” The word was rough, yet soft in a way that seemed vulnerable, and until that moment, I wouldn’t have thought it possible. I knew there should’ve been a million questions crashing into me, but I couldn’t seem to pluck a single one, caught off guard by his tenderness.
