“You have been gone for six hours. Felydrin was sent to fetch you after the first. I was sent to fetch you after the second. It was a highly vague request. You might mention to Alandris the need to improve his wording should he want things done quickly.”
Jyuri stood at the gate of the Consortium with his arms crossed in front of his chest. As I stopped in front of him, he pulled the small bottle from the belt at my hips, uncorked it, and pressed it between my lips in one fluid motion. Two drops, a moment of pause between us, and he shoved it back into my belt. I didn’t have the energy to fight him over his brazen disregard for my personal space, not while I was still reeling from my conversation with Amorphael, so I let it happen without argument.
He assessed me, scrunching his nose. “You smell of flowers. Seelie,” he said in disgust.
Fae of the Summer court. As opposed to Jyuri, obviously belonging to the Unseelie Winter court with his impeccable control over ice and illusion magic, the Seelie were more versedin nature-based magic. I’d read of disagreements between the two courts, though no details were ever explained, and Jyuri’s reaction confirmed it. To me, they were all Fae, and if I had my choice, I would have nothing to do with any of them.
“I met an old friend of yours.”
He huffed a laugh. “What did myold friendhave to say?” To my surprise, he sounded legitimately curious.
I shrugged with a frown. “Not like a Fae to spell things out clearly, is it? She said something of remembering my reason for living. She said I needed purpose if I am to stand a chance against Zaelos.”
“Ah, it appears she intends to speed up the process. Always doing whatever she wants, that one.”
“Like you?”
“Maybe.” Jyuri grinned and glanced back at the door behind him.
“Jyuri,” I hummed, and he raised a brow at me. “Was Zaelos Seelie or Unseelie?”
His expression shifted to his usual mask of indifference. “Unseelie. Unfortunately, this is where we must part. The consequences of your actions are nearly here.” Before I could question what he meant, he snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of frigid air.
As it turned out, I needed little time to ponder his words, as moments later, Alandris was rushing through the door, stopping short as soon as he saw me. A flash of emotions passed over his face—panic, relief, and then… anger. That ice-cold seething I’d grown used to seeing manifested in his eyes and stayed there. He didn’t always reserve that anger for my stupid mistakes; he more often directed it at Mages who lost control of their magic during lessons and injured someone, but tonight, it was definitely mine to claim.
“I—”
“Not here.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the door, gentle despite his rigid tone.
I should have taken the opportunity to flee from what would no doubt be a lecture about disappearing to the Faewilds, but to be fair, it hadn’t been my fault, and I intended to make that perfectly clear. I wouldn’t hear any grumbling or groaning about me being whisked away against my will, nor would I endure being chastised for leaving Consortium grounds. I had a right to spend my free time as I wished, same as any other Mage.
I’d been so focused on silently crafting my arguments in my head that I hadn’t even noticed we’d arrived at Alandris’ quarters. Not until he’d closed the door behind us and spun me around so my back was pressed against it, his body less than a step from mine. I suddenly couldn’t remember a single point I’d planned to argue.
“You have always been infuriatingly reckless,” Alandris began. “Your unnatural talent for running headfirst into danger is something I’ve grown rather fond of, to be honest. However, I think you’ve surpassed even what I believed to be your threshold for carelessness this time.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but he brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, and my efforts died in my throat.
“I had very recently explained to you that there is an organization of highly powerful individuals dedicated to killing you. On top of that, there is a would-be god inside of you that wants to destroy you the moment a weakness is spotted.” He clicked his tongue, eyes never leaving my own. “So, I am curious in what world you believed it a good idea to leave the protection of the Mages Consortium without telling anyone where you were going.”
“I thought you weren’t going to comfort me anymore,” I quipped.
“Comfort?” He tilted his head, blinking. “Love, I am scolding you.”
Love?Ignoring that for now.
The corner of my mouth twitched as I struggled to suppress a grin. “Because I was in danger?”
“Because you are a danger—to yourself, mostly.” His gaze wandered down to my lips and back up again. “Is this amusing to you?”
It was. Because as annoyed as he’d been with me moments ago, he himself was struggling not to smile now. The coldness that had settled in his eyes had dissipated, replaced with a familiar fiery warmth, and when I noticed the shift, my amusement tapered, shifting into something different—something that made me abruptly aware of the lack of distance between us. At the shakiness of my breath and the flush of my skin.
“It is,” I managed, though more breathy than I wanted.
“I’m glad you’re amused. You’ve ruined my charm. I used to be kinder.”
I let the smile through this time. “You’ve been grumpy as long as I’ve known you.”
“Not always.” He returned the smile. “I may have been too optimistic at one point. Naively so.”
