She was his mother, yet he refers to her so coolly.
Wilder watches me, and I feel him tiptoeing at the edge of my thoughts. Aether stirs like a spark at the end of a long thread. I follow that thread in my mind until I meet him, realizing it is not endlessly open as I thought, but it is something I can clasp my fingers around to shove him back.
So I do, and my mind quiets.
“You’re learning.” Wilder grins, taking a step back. “Sleep well, Elorie. And stay in your room.”
Chapter 32
Elorie
Every timeI closed my eyes last night, I saw the painting of the gods. The story of their creation. I was so focused on the figures hanging in the sky when I first looked at it that I didn’t pay attention to the figures at the bottom.
Humans. Fae. On their knees before them.
Between the kings, gods, and fates, there are so many schemes at play. Someone always pulling the strings.
One tug on a thread and we all bow down.
And here I am between two kings—two battling kingdoms. A puppet torn in opposite directions.
One king bends me with force. The other with carefully crafted lies.
Neither is innocent.
Then again, am I?
A knock comes at my door, and I sit up in bed. The sun has barely crested the horizon, but I’m awake. After thinking all night, my mind is clear. I’m done playing a pawn in this game. King Malachi and Wilder might be in control, but they need me to enact their plans.
My magic might not be cooperating, but that doesn’t make me worthless.
I survived winters on Alyssium. Storms and famine and sickness. I am not weak simply because their magic is stronger. I wield something greater than any of the Fae—a human heart. One meant to withstand worse conditions than the loss of magic.
Climbing out of bed, I move to the door, surprised to find Callum when I swing it open.
His gaze falls to my nightdress, which is so thin it shows every curve and the peak of my nipples. Maybe I should be embarrassed—maybe I should have been embarrassed last night when Wilder saw me wearing the same thing. But this is no worse than the dresses the king parades me around in.
Callum’s eyes dart back up to mine, as bright as ever. No color on his cheeks. If it weren’t for the faintest click of his teeth, I’d think he was entirely unaffected by me.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t care if he is or not.
Callum’s dark hair is tousled, and his fitted armor accentuates his broad shoulders. But I don’t immediately plummet into this pool of desire, desperate to lift onto my toes and kiss him.
When I look at him this morning, I see a friend. Where there once was this burning in my belly, I feel… nothing.
He’s just Callum.
I step aside, inviting him into my room while the remaining guards wait outside.
“We’re leaving for Tempest within the hour. The king decided to go a day early.” He pauses inside the door, taking in the mess of clothes, blankets, and books. “He hasn’t assigned you a new maid?”
“No, and it’s for the best.”
Crossing the room, I gather a pile of clothes and stuff it into the wardrobe, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach.
“I’m sorry about Isolde.”
“You heard?” I don’t dare face him.
