Chapter 5
Wolfe
“The Boundaries Between Us”
The crisp night air clashed against the shadows that kept me hidden from her sight.
Tucked in the archway across from the tavern, I cloaked myself in the Obscura, an in-between layer of shadow magic that existed just beyond the reach of this world. A realm where light failed, and only beings like me could breathe.
No matter how hard the beautiful red-haired maiden searched, she wouldn’t see me.
Magic or not. This was a hollow realm, untouched by mortal or elemental magic, threaded only with the shadowcraft I wielded.
Only those who knew the path through shadows could slip between the threads binding it together.
The air around me warred with the space, as if it sensed I didn’t belong here in Stormfell. A mortal land that abhorred magic of any kind.
The Fae were hated here because humans were terrified of us.
Had they seen me, the greeting I would have received would not have been a good one. Not for me, and especially not for them.
Without realizing who I was, they would have tried to fight me. Then I would have burned them alive for pissing me off.
I kept my gaze trained on the girl who was still desperately searching for me, even as her cousin came out and ushered her back inside the tavern.
I could still feel the aftershocks of that moment our eyes met. It was an unspoken connection between us that had no right to exist.
The mortal realm's air was thin in my lungs, lacking the ancient power that infused Galaythia, yet her presence made the atmosphere vibrate with raw energy.
Elariya Grayson.
That was my target’s name. My little thief.
Her name rolled through my mind like a forgotten melody. I pressed deeper into the shadows, my fingers curling into my palms as I tried to figure her out.
She’d seen me in the tavern.
As if I hadn’t been cloaked, she’d seen straight through the magical shield that should have made me invisible. She shouldn’t have been able to do that. But she had.
I’d arrived in Stormfell at dawn with my crew. They stayed on my ship while I ventured out here to find Elariya.
I’d been in her midst, completely invisible all day, as I’d collected information about her. There’d been moments when I was right next to her and she was oblivious to me.
It should have remained that way, but something changed inside the tavern and those bright hazel eyes had locked on mine, staring into the abyss where my soul struggled to survive.
She was already breathtaking with her heart-shaped face and high cheekbones that could slice through a man’s defenses, but when she looked at me… the world shifted.
Her lips, as full and plump as bruised berries had parted and that long, luscious hair cascading down her slim shoulders like liquid autumn reminded me of blood seeping from a fatal wound in the final moments of twilight.
Her body, a lethal composition of soft curves and sharp edges beneath her gown, had whispered promises of pleasure, tempting me.
Yet innocence brimmed in her eyes. A stark contrast to the evocative image she was. Watching her that way was like finding an untouched lily blooming in blood-soaked soil.
I’d been with many women in my long life and fucked more mortal women than I could remember. None of them had ever made my blood run hot like this.
Dangerous thoughts, Wolfe. Frivolous thoughts.
I forced them down.
Maybe my body was betraying me because it had been a while since I had a woman. I’d been entirely focused on the shit happening in Galaythia with the rebels. Now I had to focus on something that could change everything—her.
Except I never expected my villain to be a half-human, half-mage with underdeveloped powers who hardened my cock.
I didn’t think she murdered my father and stole the ring from him.
Elariya would have been fifteen at the time of his death. Not an age you’d expect a killer to be. And there was no way in fuck she’d slipped into the magical realm, much less the palace, and killed my father the way he was killed.
Nevertheless, the tracking spell was foolproof. It had been crafted to hunt through blood, following the trail that would lead me to the ring. The Seer had created it herself, infusing it with phoenix tears for absolute precision.
Magic didn’t lie. Neither did blood. The tracker led me to her. Which meant she had a link to the ring, one way or another.
My guess was she’d come by it through someone else. And since the wraith called her a thief… I’d wager she stole it.
As for her powers… if they were as underdeveloped as I’d sensed, what in the hells had I just witnessed?
Those were Nyzith strands. Rare, silver threads of ancient magic.
Had she conjured them?
From her stunned reaction, I couldn’t be certain.
The essence hadn’t felt like it came from her. There was something external about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. It would have been one hell of a coincidence for them to suddenly emerge.
Only she and I had seen them as they danced about the air, and she’d looked just as shocked as me when they first appeared.
I didn’t know if she reacted that way because she’d unleashed magic in a tavern brimming with magic-hating people. Or if it was the first time she’d ever seen them.
The silver threads had woven through the air like whispers of fate, delicate yet unbreakable. Something about the threads felt... familiar and wrong at the same time. The hairs on my arms rose, a primal reaction I buried before it could take hold.
I didn’t have time for fear. I had to know what I was up against. That’s why I left. I had to regroup.
Only high-level magical beings could harness Nyzith strands.
From what I'd sensed, Elariya wasn't even on par with a low-level mage.
And that was despite her powers not being bound like they should have been for mixed beings living in the mortal realm.
There was also a break in the flow of her magic, usually caused from burnout.
Most likely, that came from portaling away from my wraith. It had shown me what happened the night she cast the blood spell and how she got away.
But maybe I was wrong about her powers.
Maybe her magic was stronger than I could detect.
If Elariya had conjured the threads, that could have been how she was able to break through my shield.
It was also possible that she’d broken through it because the magic I’d used was weaker than usual. I’d wanted my visit to the mortal realm kept secret from my uncle.
If I’d used stronger magic, even what was considered basic in Galaythia, he or other beings like him would pick up my signature and know I was here. Hence my decision to use the Obscura instead of a stronger cloaking shield, and traveling by ship instead of portaling.
The mortal lands were cut off, magic-starved.
A muted world. The Obscura was imperfect here but it was the only place my shadows could still obey me, even if barely.
Without the magical realm’s pulse beneath my feet, my magic frayed at the edges.
I was a ghost trying to hold form in a world that had no place for me.
I stared ahead, mulling over everything that had happened so far.
Everything seemed like a fucking mystery designed to screw with me. But at least I had a lead. It didn’t need to make sense right now. A lead was a lead.
I was here for the ring. To get that, I needed Elariya.
I’d already searched her home and found no trace of it. Nor any residual magic to track. That left me with only one option. Taking her.
Taking her tonight and making sure she told me, by whatever means necessary, where my ring was. Then I’d deal with her accordingly. And she’d learn what happened to those who crossed me.
I just had to be careful and clever about the way I did it. Stealing her away with brute force and powerful binding magic was not an option without alerting the people here or in the magical realm.
The Accords forbade taking captives from the mortal realm. Those who had wronged you were to be dealt with in a manner pleasing to the law. I wasn’t above that law, but this was an extenuating circumstance that needed to be handled off the grid.
If Dreynthor learned of my plans here, he’d find a way to thwart them. Or question the evidence that linked Elariya to the ring’s disappearance. That would slow me down or stop me.
That fucker loved the power of having the kingdom and its subjects at his fingertips far too much to risk it being taken away.
Though he’d always claimed to love me and my father, playing the role of the devoted uncle and brother still searching for my father’s killer, I never once believed he wanted me to find the ring. Or reclaim the kingdom.
He’d never said so. At least not that I knew of. But only a blind fool would believe otherwise.
My father’s death handed my uncle an opportunity no other Nightblade had ever received.
Not even Alaric had the option to be king because if Dreynthor died, his son would become ruler under the Laws of Succession.
Although neither would be king, that didn’t matter.
The benefits outweighed having the crown on their head.
So where this mission was concerned, Dreynthor needed to stay the fuck away. I was going to take the evidence I had at face value and follow the lead.
Reclaiming the kingdom was the solution to all our problems. Not marrying some damn princess and being a pawn with his hands tied behind his back.
I would never give my uncle the satisfaction of having even more control over me.
I wasn’t wired that way. I was a born leader and fate had just given me the breakthrough I’d been desperately searching for.
I waited for Elariya, motionless in the obscura, as patrons stumbled from the tavern into the night. An hour passed before she emerged again with her cousin and their guard, who kept a protective hand hovering near the sheath of his sword.
They’d hardly stepped outside before Elariya started looking for me again.