Chapter 18 #2
By the third day, as the sun began to sink behind a dull, gray sky, I found myself outside.
I was thoroughly drunk by then, wandering without direction until I reached the terrace Aedric had led me across, then down the steps to the narrow stretch of beach below.
The tide moved strangely here, not crashing so much as creeping forward in long, slow swells before slipping back again, as though the sea were breathing.
I kicked off my shoes and walked to the edge of the water. Crabs scuttled between salt-bleached rocks, the sand cool and soft beneath my feet. When the water reached me, climbing the shore to brush against my toes before retreating again, I followed it without thinking.
The cold was immediate, biting deep enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
The briny air filled my chest as gulls wheeled overhead, their cries carrying across the open water.
The ground dropped away quickly beneath the surface, the shallows giving way to darker depths not far from shore.
In the distance beyond the bay, the faint shape of the mainland hovered on the horizon, hazy but unmistakable.
It wasn’t that far, I thought. Not really. Maybe I could swim it.
The water here was calmer, less broken by waves. Maybe…
I took another step. The current tugged at my calves, threatening to sweep my feet out from beneath me.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”
The voice startled me enough that I pitched forward, but a hand caught my arm before I could fall.
Segolayne stood behind me, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
The fitted tunic that had replaced her handmaid's robes was simple in cut but finely made, its deep mauve fabric traced with delicate gold stitching.
Her trousers were soaked to the knee from wading in after me.
“This part of the bay is treacherous,” she said. “The undertow will take you before you even realize it. You'd be swept out and under before you could do a thing about it.”
I fixed her with as much irritation as I could manage. “Are you here for a reason?”
She shrugged, though her grip on my arm remained firm as she pulled me back toward dry sand. “Rìan wants to see you.”
“And here I was thinking you’d all forgotten I existed.”
She smirked. “You’re not that lucky.”
She bent to scoop up my discarded shoes, knocking the sand free before setting them down for me to step into.
Grit still clung to my wet feet, scraping against the leather with every step.
The hem of my dress hung heavy and damp around my legs as I tried to walk in something resembling a straight line.
“You smell like the bottom of a wine barrel,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Only the best for the Prince,” I replied, false sweetness coating every slurred word.
We walked in silence to the library, and despite the tremor in my hands and the nausea rolling through my stomach, I found myself almost grateful for the distraction, even if it meant enduring Rìan and his entourage.
Until now, I had been useless—unable to help, unable to move us any closer to breaking the bond—and the helplessness had been maddening.
Worse than that was the waiting, the endless stretch of idle hours while I remained trapped in a foreign court, kept like some ornamental pet, as time passed without progress.
The corridor tipped alarmingly beneath me, and I lurched sideways, catching myself clumsily against the wall with a muttered curse.
“Charming,” Segolayne sniffed.
I swore again, louder, for her benefit.
She snorted. “If you weren’t the enemy’s little plaything, I think I’d almost like you.”
“There’s only one enemy.”
“I agree.”
My hands curled into fists. “You’re not a handmaid, are you?”
A sly smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Not remotely.”
I slowed, then stopped. “Who are you?”
“What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, I suppose.” I glared at her. “I can always keep referring to you as the traitorous bitch who betrayed us to Rìan.”
She blinked once, then let out a harsh, cawing laugh.
“Well, well—some teeth. After seeing you mooning over Aedric, I was beginning to think Rìan had bound himself to a spineless nit.”
I bristled.
“But then again,” she went on, looking me over with open disdain, “to be Aedric’s mate… it’s not surprising you’re a two-faced whore.”
“Say that again.” The angry step I took toward her wasn’t steady. Or as threatening as I’d hoped it would be.
“Please,” she waved, almost bored. “I’m relieved you found the dregs of courage at the bottom of a bottle, but don’t think for one second I won’t knock every tooth out of your pretty little head before you take another step.
” She paused, then added lightly, “Rìan wouldn’t give a fig.
But I don’t imagine your vain Lord of Flame would appreciate a gummy smile. ”
She lifted a finger and made a small circling motion, urging me to turn forward and keep walking.
Reining in my temper, I pivoted and strode ahead.
“Segolayne of House Thren.”
I didn't stop or look back, but her stride lengthened until she fell into step beside me.
“Never heard of it,” I muttered.
I was done with her. Whatever House she belonged to, whatever name she carried, it changed nothing. She stood with Rìan. That was all I needed to know.
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “No. I don't expect you would have. House Thren has been gone since before the Veil. The Court of Flame annihilated it during the Firstborn Wars.”
I remembered the look on Aedric's face the night we'd been caught—how it had changed the moment she'd spoken her true name aloud.
“Did House Thren stand with the Dark Prince?”
“Without question.” No hesitation. No shame.
“Then your kin killed themselves.”
Her hand shot out, fingers clamping around my shoulder hard enough to wrench me off balance. She stepped into my space until we were nearly nose-to-nose.
“Be very careful about the next words that leave your mouth, Eidra.”
I held her glare without flinching. “There are two sides to every war, Segolayne of House Thren. When you choose the wrong one, you can't be surprised when the axe falls.”
Her fingers dug deeper into my shoulder.
“If I had to watch them die again,” she hissed, her face drained of color, rage tightening every word, “hear their screams, lie beneath them as their flesh sloughed from their bones—I would.
I'd endure it a thousand times over before I ever chose to stand with Flame. Let alone spread my legs for it.”
She pushed me toward the looming library doors. I stumbled through as they opened.
“Sairus may have done it,” she went on as I steadied myself, “but it was your mate who gave the order.”
I froze, her words ringing in my ears.
It was your mate who gave the order.
Was it true? Could Aedric really have done something like that?
“Move.”
Segolayne shoved me hard between the shoulder blades.
The sun had set. What little light remained seeped through the ash-streaked windows in thin streaks of gray, weak and fading against the ruined shell of the great library. Burned shelves loomed around me like broken ribs, rubble crunching beneath my feet as I staggered forward.
Aedric had done this. This.
This was the shape of his vengeance. The justice he'd delivered upon the Court of Dusk.
I swallowed hard around the pain in my chest and tried to focus on my footing instead. In the gloom it was difficult to see.
And then—a flicker of light. Small and unsteady, somewhere deeper within the library.
The feeling struck again without warning—that wrenching pull deep in my chest. As though some invisible hook had sunk into me, reeling me inexorably forward.
I forced my breathing steady, trying to ignore the hammering in my ribs.
What if they’d figured it out? What if Levinica’s riddle had an answer?
What if Rìan knew how to break the bond?
What if this could finally be over?
A fae light perched above a charred table, its glow warm and steady against the blackened wood. And behind it sat Rìan.