Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
The morning light streamed through the open window, casting warm rays across the dining table. My fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the golden plates, but my mind was elsewhere—still tangled in the memories of last night.
He hadn’t touched me, not in the way I’d expected a king might claim his bride. But it was the silent pact we made before dawn that mattered, a whispered vow to take down the Dragon King. That goal overshadowed everything else, including the cold distance between us.
Before I could delve deeper into my thoughts, Rhydian slipped into the seat beside me with his usual unceremonious grace. His presence always seemed too large for any room. I didn’t look at him, hoping he’d sense my mood and let the silence stretch on.
No such luck.
“So,” he began, his tone overly casual, though I could feel the sharp edge beneath it. “How was the wedding night?”
My grip tightened on the knife in my hand. “Fine,” I muttered, not bothering to hide my irritation. I’d spent all night reeling.
I was a seventh wife.
My current husband wanted to use me to make the Dragon King jealous.
I was trapped.
I was confused.
I was fucking over it all.
“Fine?” Rhydian’s brows lifted, and he leaned in just a fraction, enough for me to catch the scent of leather and steel. “Is that all?”
I stabbed at the bread on my plate, tearing it apart with unnecessary force. “Why do you care?”
“I’m just asking.” His voice lowered, soft but intent. “Nothing happened, then?”
Heat flushed my cheeks, though I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. I turned to glare at him, my patience fraying. “No. Nothing happened.”
For a second, Rhydian didn’t move, his dark eyes searching mine as if he didn’t quite believe me. He leaned closer, his presence dominating, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my cheek. “Are you saying that for my benefit?” he murmured.
I narrowed my eyes, my pulse quickening despite myself. “Why? You want to run back to the queen and report?”
His jaw tightened, a tic appearing beneath the scruff on his cheek. “No. I’m asking because I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I rolled my eyes, refusing to be softened by his sudden concern. “Don’t pretend you weren’t eavesdropping the whole time.”
Rhydian’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “I tried to give you privacy,” he said, though the lie was evident in the way his gaze never left mine.
“Liar,” I shot back, unable to hide the smirk pulling at my lips.
He shrugged, but there was something in his expression—an intensity that hadn’t been there before. “Believe what you want,” he muttered. Then, after a beat, he leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping against the table. “I want to take you somewhere today.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Where?”
His gaze skimmed over me, assessing, before settling back on my eyes. “We need to train,” he said. “You need to learn to control your powers if you’re going to defend yourself.”
My heart gave a little flutter, though I quickly tamped it down. The idea of mastering the magic that had been bubbling beneath my skin ever since I assumed Aeliana’s identity was tempting—necessary even—but there was something about the way Rhydian said it, like he was offering me more than just protection. It was the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers brushed just a little too close to mine as he stood.
“Fine,” I said after a beat, though my voice sounded a little tighter than I’d meant it to. “Let’s go.”
The woods outside the palace felt alive in a way the stone of the palace never could. The scent of pine and earth filled the air, and the warm breeze brushed over my skin, chasing away the memories of marble walls and watchful eyes. Rhydian led me deeper into the forest, his broad shoulders cutting through shafts of sunlight with an effortless, commanding presence. Every step he took was sure, as though he knew exactly where we were going, though he hadn’t told me.
“Here,” Rhydian said, stopping in a small clearing bathed in dappled sunlight. His voice was low and rough, the kind that vibrated in the air between us, sending a ripple through my thoughts. His eyes, dark and intense, skimmed over me, taking in every movement, every breath. “This should be far enough.”
I nodded, but my chest tightened as the cold stirred beneath my skin. The magic was there, lurking just beneath the surface, like a storm building but not yet ready to break. Rhydian didn’t step back, didn’t give me the space I expected. Instead, he moved closer, his presence staggering, like he was filling the air around me. Too close.
“Focus,” he murmured, his breath warm and teasing against my neck. His fingers brushed lightly against my arm, the touch sending an unexpected shiver down my spine, and my heart skipped an erratic beat. “You need to control it.”
His scent—leather, steel, and something purely Rhydian—wrapped around me, clouding my focus.
“I’m trying,” I snapped, though my voice was breathless, barely a whisper.
Rhydian tilted his head, his lips curving into a slow, almost amused smirk. “Is it always like this?” he asked. “Does it always take this much effort?”
I hesitated, biting my lip. “It depends.”
Rhydian raised an eyebrow, watching me carefully. “Depends?”
“Sometimes… like when I performed the death rites,” I admitted, my voice faltering as I met his gaze. “It felt like I wasn’t even the one controlling it. I knew the ice was coming from me, but it was like someone—or something—else was pulling the strings. Like I was just the vessel.”
Rhydian’s gaze was intense now, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed my words. “Has that happened any other times?” His voice was careful, like he was peeling back a layer to something deeper, more dangerous.
“Once,” I admitted, my breath catching as I remembered. “When I fought the frostwolves.”
Rhydian’s hand tightened around my arm, just enough to pull my attention back to him. His eyes were inscrutable, but I could see the shift in his posture, the way he angled his body toward me as if the distance between us had grown smaller. “It was the same?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, the memory vivid.
Rhydian nodded slowly, his gaze drifting across the clearing. Then, his eyes jerked back to mine. “Can you call it now?”
I blinked, my pulse quickening. “I can try.”
He stepped back slightly, giving me just enough space to breathe, though his eyes never left mine. “Go ahead.”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath as I let the cold rise within me, feeling it stir in my chest, icy and dangerous. At first, it resisted, like it always did—untamed, chaotic—but then I focused, letting it crawl to the surface. I reached for it, felt the familiar chill rush through my veins, and then I pushed.
The air around me crackled, the temperature dropping as frost crept over the ground. The faint sounds of the forest grew muffled as the ice spread beneath my feet, covering the earth in a thin, shimmering sheet.
I opened my eyes and looked down, watching as the frost reached out in delicate tendrils, curling over the grass and stones. My heart raced, but the magic felt solid, controlled—this time, it wasn’t pulling me with it. It was mine, for once.
Rhydian’s eyes flicked down to the frost and then back to me, his expression intense. “That’s it,” he murmured. It was like he was afraid of breaking the moment. His gaze never left mine. “You’re getting stronger.”
The frost was still humming beneath my skin. “It’s harder than it looks.”
Rhydian’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, but his eyes were still serious. “I’m sure it is.”
For a moment, we just stood there, the frost between us, the air thick with something unsaid. The magic still hummed in the back of my mind.
“Does it still feel like someone else?” Rhydian asked.
I hesitated, then shook my head. “No. Not this time.”
His eyes softened, the sharpness fading just a little. “Good.”
Rhydian’s gaze didn’t waver. He stepped even closer, his chest almost touching mine. “On the ship, The Dragon King taught you to empty your emotions to control it, didn’t he?”
The mention of Valen, the Dragon King, sent a chill through me, colder than the magic. I stiffened, my pulse racing. “He thinks emotions make you weak,” I muttered. “That’s how he controls his dragon fire—by pretending to feel nothing.” I shook my head, my voice trembling. “But that’s not how it works for me. The magic… it’s part of me. I can’t just shut it off.”
Rhydian was quiet for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to piece something together. He stepped even closer, his gaze locked on mine. “What really happened that day, Elara? The day Aeliana died?”
I didn’t want to answer. I looked down at the frost creeping over the grass. “I don’t know,” I whispered, my voice fragile.
Rhydian waited. I knew he wasn’t just asking for details. He was offering me something—a moment to finally speak the truth of what happened that day. No judgments, no accusations. Just… listening.
“Tell me,” he said, softer now, his voice gentle in a way that nearly undid me. He knew how hard this was, knew what it took to dig up the buried memories.
“We were in the crypt,” I started, my voice trembling as I forced myself to speak. “There was fire everywhere. Valen’s dragon fire. It… it was like it came alive, wrapping around Aeliana, trapping her.” I paused, but Rhydian stayed silent, his eyes locked on mine, steadfast, waiting.
“I wanted to help her. I wrapped my arms around her,” I continued, my voice faltering, “but the fire… it didn’t touch me.” I looked down, my hands clenched at my sides. The words felt jagged. “It should’ve burned me alive, Rhydian. I could feel the heat—I felt it—but it didn’t burn me. It just… hovered around me.”
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I don’t understand why I was spared,” I said, my voice trembling now. “But Aeliana… she was burning alive. And I couldn’t stop it. I just stood there, holding her, watching her burn.”
The words hitched in my throat, the image of Aeliana’s face twisted in agony seared into my mind. “I wish I could have done something. I should’ve moved, but I… couldn’t.”
Rhydian shifted closer. His hand hovered near mine, like he wanted to reach out but wasn’t sure if I’d let him. “You were in shock,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “There was nothing you could’ve done.”
But I shook my head, the tears stinging my eyes. I could barely look at him, my voice breaking as I spoke. “She died in my arms, Rhydian.”
For a long, painful moment, the clearing was silent, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. Rhydian’s hand finally reached mine, his fingers brushing against my skin.
“I was wrong,” he murmured. “When I first met you, I said you were a coward. That you didn’t belong here.” He exhaled, as if the words were hard for him to say. “I didn’t know.”
I blinked against the burning in my eyes.
“I’m sorry, Elara,” Rhydian continued. “I didn’t understand what you’d been through. I didn’t know you’d already faced more than anyone should ever have to.”
“It doesn’t change what happened. I still couldn’t save her.”
Rhydian shook his head, his expression fierce. “That wasn’t your fault. The Dragon King—he’s a monster. What he did to her, to you—that’s on him. Not you.”
The conviction in his words startled me, but I didn’t let myself believe it—not fully. Not yet. “But why didn’t the fire burn me, Rhydian? Why did it avoid me while it took her? I was standing in the middle of it, holding her, and I didn’t even get a scorch mark. It doesn’t make sense.”
Rhydian’s hand dropped from mine. He stroked his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he mulled over my words. “I’ve never heard of fire behaving like that,” he admitted. “Especially dragon fire. It consumes everything it touches.”
“It’s like the fire wanted something from me, or… recognized something in me. But I don’t know what.”
Rhydian exhaled slowly, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I’ve never seen magic like that, Elara.”
“I know. But that’s what happened. The fire spared me, and then when Valen pressed his palm to my chest…” I trailed off, the memory of that moment still vivid, still confusing. “It was like he was searching for something inside me, something I didn’t even know was there.”
“He was testing you. He knew something you didn’t, and he used Aeliana’s death to manipulate you.”
“I went to him to die, Rhydian. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to fight him. I wanted him to kill me.”
“But you survived,” he said. “You survived something no one else could have. That’s not weakness, Elara. That’s strength.”
I looked up at him, my chest tight. “I don’t feel strong.”
His thumb brushed against my shoulder, his gaze softening. “You are. Whether you believe it or not.”
For a long moment, we just stood there, the silence between us heavy with everything I’d said and everything he hadn’t. The cold of the magic still thrummed beneath my skin, but Rhydian’s touch was warm, grounding, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was drowning under the burden of my past.
“I’m still figuring this out,” I whispered, the vulnerability in my voice surprising even me.
“And now,” he said, “you have Aeliana’s power.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t thought of it like that—not fully, not consciously. I looked away, the thought too heavy to hold onto. “Aeliana’s power,” I repeated, tasting the significance of those words. “I didn’t ask for it.”
Rhydian’s grip on my wrist tightened slightly, like he was trying to ground me, to keep me from falling too deep into the spiral of guilt. “No one’s saying you did.” He paused, his voice lowering. “But maybe it wasn’t something you took. Maybe it was something she gave you.”
I glanced up at him, confused. “Gave me?”
Rhydian shifted closer, his face softening as he studied me. “What was your relationship with her? You said you were close.”
“We were like sisters,” I said quietly, the words fragile. “She was all I had in that place.”
He nodded, something flickering in his eyes. “If you were that close,” he murmured, his tone thoughtful, “maybe she wanted to protect you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Aeliana knew how to siphon powers from the dead, didn’t she?” His voice was quiet, cautious. “That was her whole life down in the crypts—honoring the dead, preserving their magic. Who’s to say she didn’t find a way to siphon her own power… to you?”
The thought hit me like a cold wind, freezing me in place. “You think she did that on purpose?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. The idea of Aeliana—my Aeliana—doing something so selfless, so deliberate in her final moments, felt like both a gift and a burden. “You think she meant for me to have this?”
Rhydian shrugged, the movement casual, but there was nothing casual about his expression. “I don’t know everything,” he admitted, his eyes never leaving mine. “But if you were as close as you say… maybe she didn’t want you to die, too. Maybe she wanted you to be able to protect yourself. To survive.”
The air between us felt charged, heavy with the possibility that Aeliana had made a choice in her final moments—one that had saved me but also changed me in ways I was still struggling to understand.
Rhydian’s gaze softened, his hand slipping from my wrist to rest on my shoulder. “Maybe she just wanted to give you one last part of herself,” he said quietly.
I blinked, the tears that had threatened earlier now welling up again. I hadn’t wanted to think about Aeliana’s death like that—as a sacrifice. But it made sense in a way I hadn’t considered before. She had always been stronger than me, always knew more about the crypts, about the magic that surrounded us. If anyone could find a way to transfer power, it was her.
“You really think that’s what happened?” I asked, my voice trembling as I looked up at him.
Rhydian’s lips curved into a faint, almost sad smile. “I don’t know for sure,” he said, his tone gentle. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? If she loved you like a sister, maybe she wasn’t ready to let you go. Maybe she wanted to make sure you had a chance.”
“She always did look out for me,” I whispered, the memory of her pale face, her soft smile, flashing through my mind. “Even when I didn’t deserve it.”
Rhydian’s thumb brushed my shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort. “You didn’t ask for this,” he said softly, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t use it. Aeliana trusted you with her power, whether she meant to or not. Maybe it’s time to start trusting yourself.”
The grief, the guilt—they were still there, but now, there was something else. Something like hope. Something like understanding.
“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered.“For her.”
Rhydian studied me, his gaze intense. Slowly, his hand slid from my shoulder, but he didn’t step back. Instead, his presence wrapped around me, close and undeniable.
“There’s more you need to do,” he said. He was like a current running beneath the surface, pulling me in.
I blinked, the cold inside me surging slightly, responding to him in a way I didn’t fully understand. “More?”
“Make it snow,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine, the words hanging between us like a challenge.
The request caught me off guard. “What?” I stared at him, the throb of magic thrumming faintly beneath my skin, but the idea of manipulating the sky, the weather—it felt impossible. “I haven’t done anything that big before. I don’t know if I can.”
Rhydian’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. The heat of him pressed into my space, making my pulse quicken. “The royal family can make it snow,” he murmured. “You can too. It’s in you, Elara. You just have to believe it.”
I glanced around the clearing. The magic buzzed inside me, but the thought of controlling something so vast, of summoning snow from the sky, seemed too much. “I don’t know how,” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Rhydian moved closer, his chest nearly brushing mine, the air between us charged, thick with tension. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in, his voice a low rasp. “You do know how. You just need to stop fighting it. Trust yourself.”
The heat of his breath against my skin sent my thoughts scattering. The magic was there, but controlling it… that had been the hardest part. It wasn’t just a matter of summoning frost or ice. It was changing the world around me.
Rhydian’s hand slid up my arm, his fingers brushing lightly over my skin, leaving a trail of warmth that was almost maddening. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “Feel it. Don’t force it. Just… let it come.”
Rhydian’s breath ghosted over my neck, his lips so close I could feel the heat of him, the warmth against the cold growing inside me. “Now,” he murmured, his voice like a caress, “call the sky. Call the clouds.”
I took a shaky breath, the magic swirling within me, wild and eager. But I reached out with my mind, letting the magic spread beyond me. I could feel the air shifting, the wind picking up, responding to the pull of my power. The cold spread outward, curling through the trees, rising into the sky.
“Good girl,” Rhydian whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You’re doing it. You feel it, don’t you?”
I nodded, barely able to breathe, the power thrumming through me, alive and unstoppable. The wind whistled through the clearing, growing sharper, colder.
“That’s it,” Rhydian murmured, his hand sliding down to my waist, his fingers pressing lightly against my side. His touch was warm, grounding, but his words—his voice—sent quivers through me. “Now let it fall. Feel it all.”
I exhaled slowly, my breath trembling as I gave in to the power. I felt it rush out of me, felt it surge into the sky, bending the clouds to my will. And then, as if the world itself had answered my call, it began to snow.
I opened my eyes, breathless, watching as tiny white flakes drifted down from the sky. It started slow, delicate, like the softest of whispers, but soon it thickened, the air filled with swirling snow. The ground beneath us turned white, the frost spreading out from where I stood.
I gasped as I stared at the snow falling all around us, each flake shimmering in the pale light. It was beautiful, quiet, like magic itself had descended from the sky. My breath fogged in the cold air, but I could barely think, too stunned by what I’d just done.
“You did it,” Rhydian breathed. His chest brushed against my back as he looked up at the sky, the snow landing softly on his broad shoulders, in his dark hair. “You made it snow, Elara.”
I couldn’t speak as I watched the snowflakes drift down. The cold pounded inside me, but it wasn’t wild or overpowering this time. It was calm, controlled, like it had answered me. Like it belonged to me.
Rhydian’s hand moved to my arm, sliding down until his fingers brushed over mine. His touch was gentle, but it sent a spark of warmth through me, a contrast to the icy world I’d just created. “Do you feel it?” he whispered, his lips so close to my ear that it made my skin tingle. “The power is yours. You’re in control.”
I nodded slowly, still in awe of what I’d done. The snow fell heavier now, blanketing the clearing, coating everything in pristine white. And yet, the magic inside me felt steady, solid. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid of it. I had made it snow. I had done this.
“Aeliana would’ve been proud of you,” he murmured, his voice soft, full of something that made my chest tighten.
“You think so?”
Rhydian’s eyes softened, his lips curving into a faint smile as his fingers brushed over my knuckles. “I know so.” He stepped around to face me, his gaze locking onto mine, intense and unwavering.
Rhydian’s hand lifted, brushing a few stray snowflakes from my hair. His fingers remained, his touch gentle, but the air between us crackled with something heavier, something charged. His eyes flickered over my face, his breath fogging in the cold, but all I could feel was the heat of him, the way his presence seemed to fill the space around me.
“You’ve got control now,” he whispered. His fingers brushed my cheek, remaining just long enough to make my breath catch. “Use it.”
I looked up at him, my heart pounding, the snow falling softly around us.
I felt like it was mine. All of it.
And as Rhydian’s hand slid from my cheek, his eyes still locked on mine, I knew something had changed between us—something more than just magic. I knew his kindness was a blade, honed and deliberate, but ancestors help me—I wanted to press it to my skin and bleed willingly.