Chapter 42
Asta was still shaken up as the spare fae soldier—the one not involved in the duel—led the group through the boulder gates and into the fae territory.
It was not that she had nearly taken someone’s life—especially someone who treated her best friend so poorly—but how little control she had over her actions as she had done so.
Asta always had control. She never allowed anyone else to take charge or guide her actions. Now, an insatiable siren lived within her, able to dominate her thoughts at the first sign of bloodlust. She hated it.
The only person who had been able to reunite her mind with her body time and time again was Kaid. Whenever she fell, he was there to catch her and hold her until she could stand on her own again.
It was a new feeling for Asta, letting someone in.
Allowing someone to see her vulnerable sides and not protesting when they tried to help.
She did not even allow such a thing with Linnea.
But with Kaid, it had happened without her even acknowledging it, and that gave her the answer to a question she had been asking herself for years.
Asta jogged ahead toward Gyrial, who was walking next to the fae soldier.
She tapped him on the shoulder. “Can we talk?” She glanced behind them. “Privately.”
Gyrial furrowed a brow but nodded, lightly guiding her by her elbow off the path they were walking on. The group kept walking, clearly taking the hint. Gyrial knew his way around and could lead them to their destination after their conversation.
Gyrial smiled gently and left his hand on her elbow. “What’s bothering you?”
Asta did not know how to address the subject she needed to speak about, so she utilized the method she knew best—blunt honesty.
She sucked in a deep breath then blurted, “I love you.”
Gyrial’s eyes widened, utter confusion emanating from every pore.
“I—oh fuck—no, this isn’t coming out the way I need it to,” she stammered.
“Asta, breathe. It’s me. What are you saying? I need to know exactly what you mean.” Gyrial’s tone was a bit more stern than she was accustomed to.
Asta curled her hands into fists, doing her best to refrain from cracking knuckles.
“I love you, but not the way you need me to. And not the way you deserve to be loved. I love you enough to tell you that I’m not in love with you, and we have to move on from the ‘will-they, won’t-they’ approach we’ve always taken.
I want to see you happy with someone who feels exactly the same toward you. ”
The fae male stared at her in silence for many moments, never moving a muscle aside from his eyes searching her face. Then, at last, he let go of her arm and took a step back.
Gyrial cleared his throat before speaking. “Thank you, Asta. Thank you for saying the words I needed to hear aloud to understand.” He smiled sweetly, though it did not reflect in his eyes. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
Asta peered toward the group walking away down the path, her sight set on the deep red-haired male that looked like he had been finely crafted by the greatest sculptor in history.
“It’s him, Gyrial.”
Asta and Gyrial quickly caught up with their companions, who were being led to the High Fae Lord at their request. Gyrial mentioned many times that he was astonished that the Lord would even grant them visitation, which made Asta nervous.
They arrived at a large structure carved of stone, polished to glisten in the mid-afternoon light, and entered into a large throne room of sorts.
The walls were lined with crackling torches and artwork painted directly on the rock walls, and at the center of the room was a raised dais with multiple seats—also made of stone.
“These fae really love their rocks, hmm?” Tova whispered from the corner of her mouth.
Asta covered her mouth to hide her laughter and Revna glared at the two of them before walking away.
“She must love rocks, too,” Asta mumbled. A squeak escaped Tova’s lips before she could slap her hand over them, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, including the four fae sitting on the dais.
The fae male sitting in the largest throne stood, his white beard unfurling from his lap and landing mid-thigh on him. His posture was mildly hunched, and Asta concluded that this fae must be very old if he looked like an elderly human.
“Is there something amusing regarding our customs, females?” The male’s voice boomed through the room, echoing off the hard walls.
Asta’s face turned cold, her palms clammy.
She didn’t dare look at the rest of the group and face their disappointment of her childish behavior.
She was raised royal. She knew better. This was worse than being reprimanded during daily lessons with Maren.
At least then, the only people she had embarrassed herself in front of were her sister and tutor.
Asta and Tova sheepishly shook their heads.
The old fae gave one sharp nod. “Now that we can move past the jesting, what is the purpose for requesting visitation with the Lords?”
To Asta’s surprise, Kaid stepped forward. “I am Prince Kaidian Andreassan, Prince of the Ventarin Sea and heir to the Northern Seas empire. We seek a siren artifact that we believe you possess. I would like to reclaim what was taken.”
The elderly fae scoffed. “And I am High Lord Jek Karlana, ruler of the Spellid Mountain fae, and I decline your request to obtain such a destructive object.”
Well, that was not exactly how Asta thought that would go.
She stepped forward, hands clasped in front of her to subdue her cracking compulsion.
“My lord, if I may, we understand that the trident has historically been used recklessly, but that is not our intention. We plan to use it to end this war between the two merspecies once and for all.”
Another fae sitting on the dais laughed, a wrinkly elderly female with garish jewelry and deep purple lips. “That’s what you lot always claim whenever you seek out that enchanted fork.”
Jek held up a hand to cut her off. “What Lady Tressa is trying to say is, why should we trust you more than all the others who have sought out the trident before?”
Gyrial stepped forward this time, crouching down to one knee and facing the floor as he spoke. “Lord Karlana, I can vouch for this group of seafolk, as I have observed them and their intentions intimately, and you know fae word is true.”
As Gyrial spoke, Asta noted the way Jek regarded him. The lord’s intent gaze made a heavy feeling settle deep in her gut. Jek tapped a finger to his chin. “Ah, Gyrial Bohr. A name I never believed I would speak aloud again. How has exile treated you all these years?”
Exile.
Asta had never put much thought into why Gyrial had left the Spellid Mountains after learning his true heritage.
His own father had implied that Gyrial was a traitor who abandoned his clan, not that he had been exiled.
Asta searched Gyrial’s profile for any indication as to whether the implication was true or not, but the fae never flinched.
“Exile has been nothing but pleasant,” he replied simply.
Holy shit, Gyrial really had been exiled by the fae.
Was it even safe for him to return to their territory? What were the repercussions of returning after exile? Asta rested her palm on the hilt of her sword slung at her hip, the uncertainty of the situation making her jittery.
Jek spoke with the other three fae on the dais at a volume that made his words indiscernible. Everyone was on edge, each member of the party fidgeting with their weapons or swaying rhythmically to warm up their muscles.
When the hushed discussion concluded, Jek faced them once more, spreading his arms out wide like a showman revealing his next act.
“The Lords Council has decided to grant you access to the trident…”
Kaid blinked rapidly while Soren’s brows furrowed.
“If?” Gyrial whispered to himself.
Jek continued. “If each member of your party takes part in thoughtrus and passes.”
“Oh fuck me,” Gyrial muttered under his breath as he ran a hand down his face.
“What’s thoughtrus?” Asta murmured to him.
“To answer your question, siren,” Lord Karlana sneered, “we borrow your mind to ensure your intentions are true to your word.”
Asta didn’t quite understand what “borrowing your mind” meant, but she knew it likely wasn’t pleasant based on the menacing smirks each fae lord and lady wore. But they had made it this far, and Asta was not one to quit so easily. They needed this trident. There was no other option.