Chapter 6 #2
“It’s me who should beg your forgiveness.” Tears pricked at my eyes. “All of this is my fault. The Dark Prince—”
“No, El.” He turned abruptly to face me. “Don't do that to yourself. He's a mind-bender. A master puppeteer. He knew exactly what he was doing. You didn't.”
“He’s free because of me,” I said miserably.
“No,” he brushed a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “He’s free because of me. The flaw was my doing. What I told you was true—my selfishness cost the world its safety. He’s back now, and it’s my responsibility to end what I began.”
“I’ll help you.”
He arched a brow, a ghost of a smirk breaking through. “You?”
“I’m an Eidra, am I not?” I insisted.
His mouth flattened, the humor fading. “Rìan is an entirely different beast. He’s… too powerful.”
I crossed my arms stubbornly over my chest. “Eidrae were creatures of limitless magic. You said so yourself.”
He let out a quiet huff of laughter. “Only this creature never learned how to use hers properly.”
I splashed him lightly, grateful for the brief relief from the heaviness. “I’m not the one who skipped out on my lessons.”
“Fair point.” He grinned then, bright and genuine, a rare beam of sunlight cutting through the dark. “I’ll work on my attendance.”
“Please do.”
He took the cloth from my fingers, the smile lingering, intimate and meant only for me. My heart tightened painfully in my chest.
“Turn around.”
I did as he asked, turning so my back faced him.
He passed a small jar over my shoulder, and I scooped the citrus-scented soap into my palms, working it into a lather before washing myself.
When I finished, he took the jar from me.
He washed my back as I’d washed his, his touch slow and careful, before sliding his hands into my hair.
His strong fingers massaged my scalp, drawing a quiet, involuntary moan from my throat.
He shifted aside so I could lean back and rinse away the suds. When I sat upright again, he gathered my hair over one shoulder, his fingers grazing the sides of my neck. A pleasant shiver rippled through me.
He reached for a comb and drew it carefully through my wet strands, patiently working from the ends upward, never pulling or snagging. Each careful stroke soothed something tight and aching inside me. I had the sense that it calmed him too.
“You’re good with the knots,” I murmured, eyes closed, my head tilting subtly toward the ceiling.
“Well, I can’t let you do it.” There was a joking edge in his tone. “I’ve watched you brush your hair—you rip through it so angrily I’m amazed there’s any of it left on your head.”
I chuffed a quiet laugh. “Are you so afraid of ending up with a bald Eidra for a mate?”
“Bald or not,” he said without hesitation, “you’d still be devastatingly beautiful.”
Something in that simple certainty melted straight through me. I turned my head over my shoulder, searching for him. He was already there, his lips meeting mine in a long, gentle kiss. It was unhurried, full of quiet affection, and I softened into it completely.
He drew back and returned to his task, the comb gliding through my hair in slow, soothing strokes. I let my eyes close again, allowing myself to sink into the simple pleasure of being cared for.
“Tell me about Dheren,” I said softly.
“What do you want to know?”
“What is this place?” I gestured around us, water trailing from my fingertips.
“The military center of the Court of Flame. We keep our army here.”
“Are we underground?” I already knew the answer, and dreaded it.
“Yes.” He worked at a particularly stubborn knot, easing the tines of the comb through it. “Miles underground.”
The knowledge unsettled me more than I expected. The thought of the earth above us—the weight of stone and soil, the sunlight impossibly far away—pressed down on my shoulders, sudden and claustrophobic.
“The Treaty between the Courts allows each realm to retain a small army,” he continued. “Not that we’ve needed them in three hundred years. But it’s a safeguard. In case one Court breaches the trust.” His tone sharpened slightly. “We don’t want another Rìan running around unchecked.”
I hesitated. If what I’d seen was considered a small army, I hated to imagine what a large one looked like. The soldiers rose in my mind, their vacant expressions, the strange patterning stretching across their skin.
“Why do they look like that?” I asked. “The soldiers. Their faces, I mean.”
The comb paused halfway through my hair.
“Runes.” I caught the note of pride in his voice.
“The soldiers of this Court are embedded with magic. They’re taken young—before puberty, before they can truly wield power on their own.
We extract stone from the Vein”—his hand gestured vaguely—“the river of fire you saw in the chasm. We temper it into beads, infuse them with magic, and insert them beneath the skin.”
I gawked at him, recalling the bumps I’d seen gathered in intricate swirls. “Beneath the skin?”
“In the head,” he said calmly. “Where the brain can be overridden.”
The thought turned my blood cold.
He resumed combing, slower now, as if he sensed my unease. “It’s a very effective system. Sairus and I devised it long ago, when he was First Lieutenant of the Dawnwatch. My father’s Second.”
I startled, turning toward him.
He arched a brow, faintly amused. “You’re going to ask about my family history now, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.”
“Wouldn’t be a full day for Elowen Teller without peppering me with questions,” he teased.
“I’m just… surprised,” I blinked. “I knew he was your uncle. But your relationship seems —”
“Strained?” he supplied.
“To say the least.”
He set the comb aside and sighed, bracing his hands on the edge of the pool before standing. Water streamed down the length of his muscled body, tracing familiar contours. My gaze betrayed me, drifting down his chest, his torso, his thighs… what hung between them…
He caught me staring and smirked, leaning in to tilt my chin up with his fingers. “I’m up here.”
I laughed softly, color rushing to my cheeks, and batted his hand away.
He stepped from the pool and wrapped a dark, plush towel around his waist, securing it easily before sitting on the stone edge. I reclined back against the cool lip of the bath, watching as he absently trailed his fingers through the water.
“When my parents died,” he said, after a moment, “I was next in line for a seat in the Full Circle. But among the Fae of Elantis, the heir can be challenged by the previous High Lord’s Second.”
I frowned. “Challenged?”
“It’s encouraged,” he added, noting my expression. “To ensure the seat is properly earned—and not merely inherited.”
I nodded my understanding.
“Sairus challenged me. The duel was witnessed by the Full Circle and much of the nobility.” His mouth twitched faintly. “It was violent. Bloody. You saw a glimpse of his power in the War Room—”
“It was horrible,” I blurted.
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “But as powerful as he is—” He caught my eye and winked. “I’m stronger.”
A shiver traced its way through me, despite his flirtation.
“He scares you.” He tilted his head, studying me carefully.
I considered it. “He’s… awful. What he did was grotesque.”
Aedric smiled faintly. “Then consider this—as dangerous as we are, El, an Eidra is far worse. What we wield is child’s play compared to what your power can do.”
The thought sent a strange thrill through me, troubling and exhilarating all at once. I felt my magic stir in response.
He went on. “When I won the challenge, I was named High Lord of the Court of Flame. He’d tried to kill me for the seat, so I hardly could appoint him as my Second.
In any case, he was loyal to my father, not to me.
” A faint smile touched his mouth. “That became abundantly clear when he singed my eyebrows off and very nearly blinded me.”
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth.
He laughed. “You’re adorable when you’re scandalized.”
I splashed him lightly, earning a quick shift away. “Then what happened?”
“His experience was still invaluable, so I appointed him Warden of Dheren and took Calantha as my Second.”
I stiffened instantly. He noticed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, brows knitting. “She’s nothing if loyal to this Court—and to me. Her power is a terrible thing, yes, but that makes her well-suited for the role. It was the obvious choice.”
“Not Hamish?”
His lips pressed together. “In an ideal world, yes. But he has no magic. As my Second, that would have weakened my claim.”
“He would have held his own against any of them,” I said fiercely. “He’s a good man.”
A brief, savage intensity flashed in Aedric’s gaze, something feral and territorial at my mention of Hamish. But it was gone almost before I could register it, his easy smile sliding back into place. “Male,” he corrected. “He’s a good male. He may not have magic, but make no mistake—he’s no human.”
“Sairus doesn’t like him much.”
“No,” Aedric sighed. “He doesn’t. Being born without magic is considered dishonorable. Sairus tried to kill him at birth.”
My breath caught. “No.”
He nodded. “He meant to cast him into the Vein. My father intervened, just in time to save him.”
I blinked. “That’s horrifying.”
“Things like that happen among the Fae, more often than not.” He shrugged and reached for another towel. “Are you ready to get out?”
I nodded and held up my fingertips. “I’m pruning.”
He chuckled, holding the towel loosely between his hands. I knew he was warming it. A quiet wave of affection washed through me. How had I let myself doubt him? These small considerations, the thought he gave without being asked, made something inside me soften.
It wasn’t as though no one had ever shown me true kindness before.
Laurie had. But when he’d been considerate, it had always left me uneasy, as though I owed him something in return.
As though kindness was a ledger that needed balancing, lest he think I was taking advantage of him.
Or worse, that I cared for him the way he cared for me. Which I didn’t.
Laurie.