“No,” he says hurriedly, as if sensing my distress. “He hated how presumptuous it was, how high-handed. That moment decided him, and he told her to leave. Not only his room, but the castle. Because what Alanna failed to understand was that while thefaeare promiscuous, goblins only couple with their mates. And only goblins can give humans the Elixir. In asking him to take her with this body, Alanna had crossed a line.”
I blink against his shoulder, my mind winging through one logical conclusion after the next. “So…wait. You mean you’ve never…” I trail off, fighting for breath.
“What? Been with a woman?”
Blood rushes into my face. “Yes. Not at all?”
“Not in this body. This skin. I’ve been waiting for you, Princess. All these centuries, I’ve been waiting.”
I can’t help it. I look up and find him gazing down at me. Aheated promise lights his eyes, one that burrows into me, nestling between my heartbeats, slotting itself between one breath and the next.
My lips part, and his focus shifts there as if drawn.
“Has it been hard for you?” I whisper. “Waiting?”
A soft chuff slides from him. “Of course. But this is the way of things. No goblin lies with anyone but their mate. Among the fae, it’s unthinkable. Not just taboo, but physicallyundoable. It would be like me trying to cut off my own arm.”
A flutter races up my spine. That shouldn’t please me, but…
“Our fae forms are different,” he continues. “Those are for pleasure, and sharing. And Idoremember what I’ve done in that body, back when Amriel and I were one. Which means I know what to do. How to please you. But these hands, these lips, this body, this form, these were only ever made for you. They belong to you and no one else.”
A heated breath snakes into my lungs. “So what you’re saying is that you’re a virgin, too?”
He laughs. “If you want to get technical, yes. But Princess…” His eyelids lower. “I wouldn’t fuck you like one.”
Ishanna’s blood. It’s such an Amriel thing to say, and it has the same effect as if he’d dunked me into a vat of boiling water. I hide in his shoulder again, suddenly aware of every point of contact—the steely arm bearing me up, the press of my breasts against his chest, the breadth of firm, hot muscle beneath my cheek.
All mine. All forme, and I can’t stop my mind from swirling down the same rabbit hole the Shadow dragged me into earlier. Only this time, the fault is mine. Thethoughtsare mine.
I could let him lay me out on the forest floor. Not here, but through some friendlier door, where the forest glows and the sky glitters overhead. I could let him claim me under the stars, show me what my body is capable of, like Ravenna said I should.
What if I did it? Just once, before going home? I could still take my vows, still become a priestess. I’d just do it having experienced life.
The Shadow hears me thinking. I know he does, because a groan rips from the deepest part of him. “I’ll find a door right now,” he says, the words feral and half-formed. “Take you through it and get you under me, or let you run first, or anything.Whatever you want.”
I waver, balanced in mid-air, breath held as I wait to see which way I’ll fall. My fingers press into his shoulder, and I can’t help but wonder how deeply they’d dig in if I just let go. If I lost myself. Let lust consume me. Lethimconsume me.
But in the pause, my hand finds my pendant and squeezes. A flicker of warmth emanates from the metal, so faint I might have imagined it.
And yet my blood surges, answering to old habits. Hope roars up from nowhere, sweeping all else from view. Maybe my goddess hasn’t forgotten me, after all.
Maybe she’s still watching.
“I can’t,” I whisper against the Shadow’s skin, anchoring myself to the crescent moon in my hand. Taming the wild flood inside me. “I’m sorry.”
Disappointment courses through him, but he nestles me closer anyway, a wordless acceptance. He carries me onward, driving back a many-eyed shadow creature that dares to test his sphere of light.
“Could you tell me the rest of the story?” I venture.
A minute passes before he answers. Two. When he does, his words emerge as a rasp. “What else do you want to know?”
“What happened with Alanna, when Amriel told her no.”
Another minute slips by in silence. Then, “She got angry. She lashed out, told him he was making a mistake, that he’d regret refusing her. Thenhegot angry, and said he’d never marry a human, and it all spiraled from there. She said she’d make it so he’dwantto, someday. That his fated mate would be descended from Aethrolia’s royal line. Then she cursed him, split him into two and said she hoped he’d someday watch his mate die in the Wildwood. And you know the rest.”
I try to digest that. I knew Alanna’s magic involved laying curses. I’ve seen it in the Registry of Graces—the gigantic, leatherbound book that chronicles the magical ability of every Vandenore in the royal line, for as far back as our history stretches.
But I didn’t know the extent of her power. And I want to understand whether Aethrolia intentionally hid the truth about Amriel’s curse. About the true cause of the war. “Did Alanna’s advisors know? What she’d done? Or did she keep that to herself, too?”
