Chapter 45
My lack of excitement should have been disturbing, but it felt far too good to feel... nothing.
For the first time in what seemed like forever, I was seeing the world without an emotional lens distorting everything I encountered.
A profound sense of calm settled over me as I left the chamber and restored Elyndra's wards with barely a thought.
They weren't particularly complex—not the ones concealing the Looking Glass, anyway.
Centuries spent as the only magic wielder in the Mirrorlands had clearly made her complacent.
That suited me just fine.
Still, I couldn't exactly wander around glowing.
My skin was still alight, my magic sitting too close to the surface for comfort, and I had no desire to explain that particular phenomenon to anyone.
Reaching inward, I carefully tucked it away, pressing it deeper beneath my skin until the glow disappeared entirely.
I eventually found the kitchens after retracing my steps and trying the left-hand hallway instead.
The cook had been sprawled over a countertop with a book in hand, absently polishing glassware for Ambrosia cocktails as she read.
Judging by the empty dining area, most patrons had long since abandoned thoughts of food in favor of satisfying other appetites.
A few hurried apologies later, she set about preparing me a meal—a plate of sliced roast pheasant with honey-glazed carrots and soft white bread still warm from the oven.
While she bustled around the kitchen, I eyed the book she'd left behind and read the title.
Curiosity prompted me to flip through the first few chapters.
It was a romance. Many of the pages had been dog-eared, and it didn't take long to discover why.
The marked passages were filled with scandalous encounters, lingering kisses, wandering hands, and increasingly creative uses for furniture.
By the second chapter, I was fairly certain the heroine had spent more time tangled up with the hero than engaging in whatever plot the story was supposed to possess.
A faint sense of satisfaction settled over me when I realized I could read every word without difficulty. More appealing, however, was the detached awareness that thoughts of Levinica weren’t sending spears of guilt stabbing through my chest. My magic had taken it all away.
Even Levinica's death failed to touch me. It existed simply as a fact. A thing that happened. No more painful than recalling that the sky was blue or that winter followed autumn. Just another truth.
I devoured the meal standing right there in the kitchen, praising the cook for her skill as I ate. She positively beamed beneath the compliments. I may have felt very little, but hunger wasn't an emotion, and the rich complexity of the food was still something I could appreciate.
As I polished off the last of the bread, I found myself wondering why I'd spent so long fearing this side of my Eidrae lineage. Why I'd clung so desperately to my emotions. To my humanity. Why bother?
Everything hurt when I could feel it. Being human was a miserable affair, filled with grief and longing and endless hardship. This was easier. Simpler.
On my way back to the room, I passed the alcove.
It was empty. The curtains had been shoved aside, exposing the aftermath within.
Cushions lay scattered across the floor, the small table had been overturned, and strips of silk hung torn from the ceiling.
The sight of the ruined space brought an unwelcome thought of what had happened there, and my magic swallowed the sudden pang of hurt before it took hold.
I paused halfway up the stairs to watch the orgy unfolding beneath me. Without shame to make me hide my eyes, I stared openly and brazenly at the acrobatics on display, the impossible positions and elaborate contortions.
I pitied them all—their hollow needs, their desperate attempts to fill a void that could never truly be satisfied. Empty shells without mates, expending themselves on an act that served no purpose.
What was the point of sex if it produced nothing and led only to a dead end?
The bedroom was empty. Rìan wasn't there. My magic snapped at the stillness it found, displeased by his absence. It prowled restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to find him.
It wanted his magic. Wanted to consume it, touch it and claim it for its own. It had chosen him for the same reason it had chosen Aedric despite my mother's rejection all those years ago: it hungered for power, and power meant survival. I knew it was nothing more than instinct.
I peeled off the loose trousers, leaving on the oversized cream-colored shirt, then stretched out across the massive bed and stared up at my reflection in the mirrored ceiling.
I thought of Elyndra. Of her impossible beauty. Her shifting features.
I wondered…
Focusing on my reflection, I watched the color drain from my eyes. The shape of them changed moments later, lengthening into elegant almond points. A smile curved my full mouth.
Interesting. What else could I do?
Anything I could imagine, if Aedric had been right.
The thought should perhaps have been intimidating, but instead it filled me with a cool curiosity. I wondered how far I could push it, how many shapes and faces and possibilities lay hidden within me, waiting to be uncovered.
Whatever I envisioned, my magic could take me there.
I felt it waiting inside me as I lay awake, circling endlessly beneath my skin, round and round and round, like a shark gliding through water.
It was still night when the bedroom door finally opened.
Rìan stepped inside and stopped. The pulsing silver glow spilling from my skin illuminated the room just enough for me to see his gaze travel over me.
"Your magic..."
"Yes." The word slipped into the darkness.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His hair was slightly dishevelled, his shirt hanging open at the throat. He looked tired. The observation registered without stirring any particular feeling.
His jaw worked. Then he cleared his throat and crossed the room. For a brief moment, I wondered whether he intended to get into the bed with me. The thought carried no embarrassment. No anticipation. It was simply a possibility that occurred to me.
Instead, he sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off his boots. One dropped to the floor. Then the other.
He remained there for a moment, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the carpet. Finally, he lowered himself onto the floor beside the bed. “How long has it been back?”
“Hours.”
A heavy silence settled between us. I could sense him searching for the right words, turning them over before finally speaking.
"Elyndra…"
At the sound of her name, my magic stirred violently.
It lashed beneath my skin, restless and possessive, reacting to something I could no longer feel myself.
Whatever jealousy or hurt her name might once have provoked belonged entirely to the creature lurking inside me now, and I found myself observing its agitation with detached curiosity.
Interesting.
"She's very beautiful." I rolled onto my side, turning away from him.
He was quiet for so long I wondered if he intended to answer at all. When he finally did, his voice was low. "Not in ways that matter."
A humorless laugh escaped me.
Hours ago, I'd cared. The hurt and anger had been fierce enough to surprise me, though in hindsight there were perfectly reasonable explanations for it.
Rìan and I had spent three miserable days crossing the salt flats together, half-starved, half-delirious, and dependent upon one another for survival.
Shared hardship forged strange connections.
Any resentment at watching him disappear behind those curtains with Elyndra likely stemmed from that and nothing more.
"So you've not reconciled?"
The silence that followed stretched long enough to become an answer in itself.
"It's not what you think."
"I don't think anything of it." The words came easily.
He ground his teeth. "Eidra—"
"Rest. You've had a busy night. At daybreak, we leave for Pelaga."
I heard the rustle of clothing as he shifted on the floor.
"No, we don't."
"Yes, we do."
"There’s no way to get there from here. We'll have to retrace our steps, return to Noctharis, and charter a boat to take us around the southern end. Perhaps we can enter through the Barrows on the far side of the Tidelands, but the Bone Women—"
"Sleep."
The silence that followed was noticeably longer.
"What’s wrong with you?"
I stared into the darkness. "I'm tired."
"Eidra." The word left him in a strained exhale.
I said nothing. After a moment, he tried again.
"What happened tonight?"
"I should ask you the same question."
He growled deep in his chest. “Nothing happened.”
“Oh no?”
“I went for a walk.”
I scoffed and turned onto my back. The mirrored ceiling brought Rìan into view. He was stretched out on the floor beside the bed, one arm folded beneath his head as he stared up at my reflection. Already watching me.
“Elyndra—”
“You mean Elly?”
A low sound rumbled through him. I studied him in the reflection, waiting.
He took a long, steadying breath. “Lady Elyndra and I were together centuries ago,” he said, the words carrying the brittle patience of a male rapidly approaching the end of his tether. “When the Firstborn Wars began, she sided with me. She's very distantly related to the Chronods.”
My stare remained blank.
“The Chronods,” he clarified, “are another species of Firstborn. They can manipulate time.”
That explained how she'd managed to stop time long enough for me to chase after the Moiraithe.
Rìan dragged a hand across his face. “She inherited only a miniscule fraction of their abilities, hardly anything, and even that is dangerous. Using her power drains her too quickly. If she isn't careful, it could kill her.”
His gaze shifted away from mine in the reflection.
“When the Firstborn Wars began, she begged me to keep it hidden.”
“Why?”
“So she wouldn't be hunted.”
“Hunted?”