Selia stops at the edge of the bathing chamber, reaching behind her neck to untie the thin strap that holds her dress in place. The ties slip through her fingers, and then it melts from her body, slipping over every curve.
Standing up, I walk through the water, taking my steps one at a time while she stands waiting for me.
Some power can’t be denied. The surge in my veins, the heat in the room.
And this look—one of pure devotion.
Raw lust.
Selia’s pretty cheeks brighten, and the clouds dusting the room start to part with her excitement. Her need fills my lungs on every inhale.
So many cracks are forming lately. Splinters to the plan. But I am in control. Power surges through my chest as the orb hangs heavy at my neck. I will win this. I started with Wilder’s sister, but I’ll have his kingdom next. Bowing before me as they turn to stardust.
Selia wets her lips, waiting with a lustful smile. “Better now?”
“Almost.” I drag my thumb over her parted mouth. “Kneel for your king.”
Chapter 18
Elorie
Wilder isn’tin the training ring when I arrive. It should be a relief, but something about it doesn’t feel right with how closely he’s been watching me lately.
“Is he finally done taunting me while I train?” I ask Greer, who is polishing her sword.
She looks up to the empty spot where he usually perches during our training sessions. “Seems that way. Thank Gods. I’ll be glad when he Cleaves with the rest of his realm.”
The thought sends a chill down my spine. Cleaving is the ultimate curse to wish on someone. As King Malachi explained, it is more than death. It is the consumption of all.
Unlike the transfer of souls through Sarrow into the After, there is no knowledge of what is beyond the Cleaving. Some say it is complete erasure from fate. Others whisper it is the greatest sacrifice in the eyes of the gods.
Either way, to wish all of Vaelier such a destiny is merciless.
Greer’s jaw sets, and I wonder if her hate stems from the brutality of the battlefield or something more personal. She doesn’t tell stories about her family or home. I don’t even knowwhere Greer is from. But, as a member of the Guard, she must have fought on behalf of her kingdom at some point. I don’t doubt she’s seen great losses in this war.
“Have you been to the battlefront?” I ask, meeting Greer at the weapons chest and grabbing the daggers I’ve grown used to.
“Yes.” She frowns. “I fought at the front lines for nearly a century before I was pulled back to the palace. Hopefully, I’ll be sent to help them again soon.”
“Did you prefer the battlefront?”
“It’s where help is needed the most.” She turns, walking to the center of the training ring and swinging her sword in her hand, likely testing its weight in the breeze.
Greer is a true warrior, unlike many of the guards at the palace who have never been to the front lines. She’s fought in this war—would rather be fighting in it now—than stuck training me.
I don’t blame her. While I spend my days learning new tricks with daggers and failing to resurrect the dead, humans are dying on Alyssium.
Fae are dying in Lyrichia.
It makes our afternoons together seem unimportant in comparison.
“Let’s get started.” Greer waves me forward.
“You’re not using the daggers today?”
“Your weapons won’t always match your opponent. You need to be ready to fight them regardless of what each of you has in your hands. When you can’t wield, or when your magic is drained, you need to be flexible.”
She takes a swing without any warning, and I barely dodge it. The tip of her blade slices off a strand of hair.
