Page 82 of The Reaping Rose

Elorie’s smile turns forced as her eyes flick to the distance, where Atlas is talking to Wilder inside. Through the magic that tempers the elements, I catch only a glimpse of Atlas’s deep-red hair. It’s tied in a knot at the base of his skull with pieces falling to frame his face. He stands relaxed as ever, his leathers hugging his thick arms and chest.

As if he senses me watching, his purple eyes snap to mine, and I look away.

He’s the picture of a Vaelier warrior, dangerous in every way.

“You want me to go with Atlas?” My teeth clench, every fiber of my body resisting her suggestion. “No.”

“Please just listen.” Elorie rests her hand on the dagger at her thigh, tapping her thumb against the handle. “He’s not as bad as you think.”

“I don’t think. I know.” My teeth clench again. “You might trust him because of Wilder, but I don’t. Do you understand what he did in the Ley Court? How he manipulated our minds with his magic? Malachi wasn’t the only one casting illusions. Atlas erased our memories straight from our heads to fulfill Wilder’s mission. He can’t be trusted.”

“I trust him.” Her shoulders roll back, determination blazing in her eyes. “I trust that he did what was necessary and nothing more. He was there for me, Greer. As much as you and Callum were.”

I frown, and she crosses her arms.

“Okay, maybe not as much as you two, but close. He was there when the king forced me to experiment on the corpses. He checked on me when Wilder cast a barrier around my room so Malachi couldn’t get to me. Atlas wants the same thing we do—Malachi dead.”

Those last two words are all that stop me from outright arguing with her. The only thing I want more than to get as far away from Vaelier as possible is to see Malachi meet his end.

Elorie glances at the palace, where Atlas and Wilder continue talking. “If you can’t trust him, then trust me, Greer. We need to do this, and as you said, there will be a bounty on your head. Lochlan will help while you’re in Solace, but the moment you venture beyond his borders, guards will be on the lookout for you. Atlas can help with that while you look for Malachi.”

My jaw tightens as I consider what she’s saying. “If he so much as uses a flicker of flame on me, I will drive my sword straight through his throat and offer no apologies.”

“I don’t doubt that,” she says, her face a little paler at my comment.

But I don’t take it back because I refuse to be manipulated again.

Glancing at the palace, I distinctly remember the heat of something winding through my thoughts. On Alyssium, I assumed it was the king and his magic forcing us to see what he wanted. But coming to the Quietus Court and learning of Atlas’s fire wielding, I doubt it was only Malachi tampering with my mind. To use magic to protect others is one thing, but to violate someone by erasing their memories is not something I can forgive.

You are the general, or you are the pawn, Father would tell me. Let them underestimate you, but never let them get the upper hand.

Father knew the risks. He lived them every day protecting me and my mother. To love is to be vulnerable. To trust is to be weak. I don’t hand either over easily, and even if Elorie is right, and Atlas might prove useful on this mission, I won’t let my guard down for anyone.

My magic is on alert for any hint of heat at the edges of my mind. One lick—one flicker—and this blade at my back will be in Atlas’s heart before he can so much as wipe himself from my thoughts.

Never wait for your opponent. The second move is only useful if the first one didn’t already get you killed.

Mother hated when Father would drag me to the ring and instill that lesson over and over. She hoped we could get through this without blades. Without hate.

Sometimes I wish I held that same optimism.

“You’ll do this?” Elorie asks as Wilder and Atlas make their way outside toward us.

“I will.”

For her.

For my realm.

“When do we leave?” I ask Elorie, but Wilder is the one who answers.

“Tomorrow. We can’t risk putting it off.” Even as he says it, his expression tenses.

His gaze moves to Elorie, and I sense that whatever plan he’s agreed to where she’s concerned is weighing heavily on him.

“I’m assuming that means you’re on board?” Wilder asks me.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.”