Chapter 14
Wolfe
“Chasing Ghosts Through Smoke”
Night had fallen hard, dragging the sky into a pit of ink so deep not even the stars dared shine. It was as if the world itself had forgotten the concept of light.
I sat in the shadows of my study alone drinking from a crystal goblet filled with obsidian wine. The decanter was half-empty on the table in front of me, a sign I may have drunk too much, but I'd needed the mental break that came with losing myself in wine that dulled reality's harsh edges.
That ominous feeling was still clutching the air. The feeling from earlier when I first came in here. It reminded me of the heaviness that permeated the heavens before a battle. As if time stood still and held its breath while it waited eagerly to see what was going to happen next.
I had no fucking clue what that was.
Yes, I had a big lead and Elariya was my tracker, but I didn’t know where to go from here. Worst of all, I couldn’t get the look of terror and disappointment she’d given me out of my head.
She’d thrown it my way as Alaric and Garrick led her away. It was a look I’d seen often on the faces of the helpless. Except she’d looked at me as if she wanted me to save her. Perhaps because we both knew I was the only one who could.
The ghost of her stare stayed with me, screwing with my mind as I tried to come up with a plan for how to use her to get the ring back.
It was hard to believe that everything that led me here, to this point, was the easy part.
Now I needed a spell that would work. One that would use her blood to show me where the ring was hiding.
Hiding…Gods. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. The ring had been hiding for five years. Protecting itself from only the Gods knew what evil was after it. And Lord Grayson was wearing it.
That motherfucker’s foolish actions had cursed us all, mortal and immortal alike, binding our souls to a fate neither of us had chosen. Now our fates were tangled in one ruinous thread.
I would have loved nothing more than to delve deeper into the bigger mystery of who Lord Grayson was working for and what was truly going on, but those parts had to wait until I found the ring.
I supposed the one good thing I had on my side was the ring wanted me to find it and had left clues.
What a pity these revelations hadn’t come sooner. But perhaps fate had its own timing.
Throughout my years of searching for the ring, I would have been trapped in the same endless cycle unless some miracle had occurred. The Phantom Moon brought Elariya to me, so despite all my efforts I would have always had to wait.
Candlelight threw impatient shadows against the walls, the flames dancing and twisting like trees in the wind. I leaned back in the chair and stared, getting lost in the pattern as I tried to balance my mind.
After Elariya was taken to her room, I’d briefed everyone about what was happening. That was hours ago. I hadn’t seen anyone since, which was probably for the best.
I knew they were all eager to get more information from me. Especially Arielle, who desperately needed to rest.
I’d purposely distanced myself because I needed time away from everyone.
Time to think and plan. And time to calm down from the wild sexual charge that raced through my blood. Because of her. My mage.
Elariya Grayson was a flame under pressure, forged by grief and fear and something mystical that hadn’t yet fully awakened.
Despite what little hope she clung to, those eyes of hers had peered straight through the mask I wore, down to the monster that lurked beneath my carefully constructed facade. It terrified her.
Good. She needed to see who I truly was and be afraid of me. She needed to see past my gentle Fae features and see the darkness that lived in my soul.
I’d showed her a touch of my death powers for that very reason.
I was a monster. Not some fairytale prince. I was a fucked up monster shaped by centuries of violence and vengeance, wearing the skin of something civilized. The sooner she realized that, the better.
Her fear would keep us both in line and act as a leash around the beast that paced beneath my ribs, hungering for things I had no right to take.
Deep down I hoped her fear quelled whatever this thing was between us that sparked with a kiss that should never have happened.
Wanting her was wrong, but some dangerous part of me didn’t care.
When I remembered how soft her lips had been and the sweetness of her orgasm, I still wanted to fuck her. Maybe that’s why I never told her I was cursed, too.
It should have been easy to tell her but that part of me withheld it for the same nonsense reasons that made me want her.
For now, she knew everything she needed to know. There was no need for her to know anything more. Especially about me.
I may have acted no different from Hades, but she couldn’t be my Persephone.
The only thing that should marginally concern me was that I’d taken her illegally and claimed her under a law my actions had rendered meaningless.
Vaelthorne law allowed for heirs to be punished for their father’s blood crimes. But I hadn’t claimed her through the proper channels. That was the part I needed to keep quiet.
I knocked back the rest of the wine in one long, burning swallow, then poured another goblet full. The crystal decanter clinked against the rim of my glass, a lonely, hollow sound in the silence.
I was at the stage where decisive action was essential. Thoughts of fucking and pleasure would have to wait. Every move that came next depended on precision.
Come tomorrow, Elariya would have twenty-two days until her next memory reset. I’d like to find the ring before that happened.
I didn’t want the task of going over all that we’d been through if the new moon came and she forgot everything. Who knew what I’d be dealing with if that happened?
This present version of her knew she’d tried to perform the blood spell, knew about the wraith, knew about the ring, what her father had done, and she knew about me.
The future version of her would undoubtedly be more hostile and difficult to reason with than she already was. Not that I expected her to be willing to help me.
Her behavior and reaction were understandable, and though her spark had burned out today, I knew that wild fight I’d witnessed in her was only gone for the moment.
She’d looked like the desolate who’d accepted their fate and knew there was no point fighting anymore.
But she hadn’t given up. Surrender wasn’t in my little Ziyka’s bones.
Accepting defeat wasn’t the same as abandoning your goals.
You were simply playing it smart so you could live to fight another day.
The old me might have pitied her, but I had to keep the truth at the forefront of my mind.
My father was dead. Killed by hers.
Of course, Elariya didn’t want to believe it was true. But it had to be.
I had no reason nor desire to believe otherwise. Nothing would ever erase the memory of the night my father died.
The commotion of the guards rushing to my father’s study still played in my head like it had never ended.
The worst thing was prior to that night, I hadn’t seen my father for almost a year.
I’d been in the Northern Isles training dragons.
All we had together was a few hours before I went to the courtyard.
The curse had just struck when I heard the guards and I could barely move.
Two wars had given me several serious life-threatening injuries, but nothing compared to the excruciating pain that wracked my body when the curse claimed me. Yet through that pain, I found strength to go to my father.
Deep in my bones I knew something terrible had happened. The way prey knew the predator was near. The way the sea knew a storm was a breath away.
Still, I never expected to find him—my father, my king—dead on the floor of the study, lying in a pool of blood, his skin streaked in lines of black poison and a sword wedged through his heart.
The sword was coated in Nightmother’s Kiss. One of the few poisons that could kill a Fae in a heartbeat.
The polished black liquid was sourced from the rivers of the Underworld, where it was filled with pure night and the shadow of death. It killed us by stealing our immortal essence.
I smelled it before I saw it. That faint scent of death and shadow. My father never stood a chance.
I’d always thought the villain responsible for killing my father went above and beyond to plot his death. It made sense now, for Nightmother’s Kiss didn’t affect humans. We’d suspected dark magic at work, but even that didn’t make sense. Now things were falling into place.
My father had done business with the human realm on multiple occasions. An ambassador like Elariya’s father would have been perfect to infiltrate the palace.
None of the guards saw anyone who wasn’t supposed to be there, but that didn’t excuse him. More than likely, that was where magic came in. But it must have been something we couldn’t detect because there was no evidence of magic.
Maybe Elariya’s father used something without a signature like the vortex. It was possible. Anything was possible.
My father had always taught me to take everything as it presented itself to me. Doing so hadn’t failed me yet. So, there was no reason to think Lord Grayson was innocent.
Dreynthor’s part in this mess hadn’t left my mind. I kept thinking about how he must have schemed with Lord Grayson to kill his own brother and take the kingdom for himself.
Dreynthor loathed humans, but he didn’t hate them enough to pass up an opportunity like using one to kill my father.
I didn’t care that I had no evidence to lock him down. The warning in my heart told me he was guilty. My mother always told me when you got that feeling, you needed to pay attention. Not cast it aside.
Sadly, all I could do now was what I’d already been doing. Watching him.
Watching him while I worked as quickly as possible to retrieve the ultimate weapon to end his power.