Chapter 9
Elariya
“Where Our Hearts Still Meet”
Arielle and I walked into a vast living room where floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the beauty of the Fae realm beyond. But it was the three Fae warriors standing together by the wall that made my lungs tighten and my nerves spike.
Bastian stood among them. Seeing him earlier had been enough to make my head spin, but the others—all of them together—was something else.
They were the Bloodsworn. Warriors bound by oath to Wolfe. With Arielle they formed his Veythral. His inner circle.
Tattoos spiraled up the Fae warriors’ arms in patterns from the old languages, and the three of them looked born and bred for violence.
The one beside Bastian had shoulders broad enough to blot out the sun, long dark hair pulled back to reveal a face carved from granite and shadow. Scars mapped stories across his exposed forearms, and when he shifted, I caught the gleam of blades strapped to his thighs.
Beside him stood another—leaner but no less lethal—with blond hair that fell like a curtain over one side of his face before disappearing into a warrior braid. His eyes were the color of glacier, but there was a lightness to him, as if humor lived under all that steel.
They should have terrified me. Every line of their bodies spoke of death and danger, of power barely leashed.
But when their gazes found mine, something unexpected flickered there.
Gentleness.
A softness that didn’t belong on faces made for war—as if they saw something in me worth shielding.
Bastian, Alaric, and Garrick.
Their names rang through my mind from my notes. But I didn’t recognize them from their faces.
I’d written that Alaric was the spitting image of Wolfe. Dark hair. The same cut of features. The same… presence. So, I guessed he was the one beside Bastian, and Garrick was the blond.
I didn’t know what to say, so when Arielle and I stopped before them, I did the first thing that made sense in the presence of royalty.
“Your Highness.” I bowed deeply to Alaric.
“No, no.” He stepped forward at once, raising his hands. “Please rise. That’s not necessary.”
Garrick moved past him with a bright, hopeful smile and came straight to me, setting his large hands on my shoulders. “You remember something?” His eyes lit. “You knew he was Alaric.”
The hope in his expression told me he’d been a friend to me.
“It was from my notes,” I admitted, guilt sliding in when his face fell. “My journal.”
“Oh.” He forced a nod, disappointment flickering fast. “Of course. Yeah. The journal.”
“Don’t worry,” Arielle said gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “She’ll get used to you again. Give it time.”
“Sure,” Garrick said, but his voice dulled. Then he looked back at me, softer. “I’m glad you’re back. And safe.”
“Thank you.”
“No,” Alaric cut in. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming back. I understand how strange all of this must be for you. Wolfe would appreciate your efforts, too.”
I managed a small smile, mostly because I didn’t know what else to give him.
The door at the far end of the room opened, and in came a woodland sprite carrying a tray of hot drinks and cinnamon buns. His shimmering blue skin matched his gossamer wings.
When his eyes met mine, his pixie face broke into a radiant smile.
Sirril.
I couldn’t help it. I smiled back.
He’d been the first friend I made when Wolfe took me. The first to make me feel safe.
Overcome, his steps slowed. He simply stared at me as if he couldn’t believe I was real. And then it was me who moved.
I crossed the room, the emotion rising too quickly to stop. His hands trembled so badly he had to set the tray down on the table. Then he closed the distance and took both my hands in his.
Warmth spread through my chest, strange and familiar, like truly coming home.
And somehow… it didn’t matter that I didn’t remember him.
“My Lady,” he said with reverence, his voice filled with awe.
“Sirril.”
“What a pleasure to have you back.” His smile wavered, bright with feeling. “I have prepared your favorite cinnamon delights.”
I glanced at the tray and smiled. “Thank you so much.”
“Welcome home, my Lady.”
Home.
Was it possible to feel at home in a place you couldn’t remember?
Maybe. Because I couldn’t deny what I felt.
“I hate to break up our reunion,” Alaric said, stepping forward, “but time is of the essence. We need to talk.”
“Of course,” I said.
He motioned for me to sit on the couch across from him. I did, grateful when Arielle sat beside me.
I was glad that Sirril sat, too, still watching me like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.
The guys sat together, and Arielle opened the discussion, filling them in on what I’d told her upstairs about Thayden and hearing Wolfe calling to me.
They looked as shocked as she had. It nearly snuffed out the fragile hope in the room.
“I’m astounded,” Garrick murmured, shaking his head. “The attack the dragons described didn’t sound like something Scabbards could pull off.”
“It depends on what magic they used,” Alaric offered.
“Or where they got it,” Bastian cut in. “Even the magic-born would need something aboveboard to pull off an attack like that on Wolfe.”
“What exactly did the dragons say?” I asked. I had to know.
“The attackers were invisible,” Bastian replied. “They bound the dragons with magic that kept them from fighting back. Wolfe was blindsided from every angle. You tried to make his opponents visible, but you couldn’t. The dragons tried, too. Nothing anyone did worked.”
A chill slipped beneath my skin. “That sounds unreal.”
“Indeed.” Bastian’s gaze darkened. “The dragons said only one man made himself visible. The man who rammed a sword into Wolfe’s heart.”
I sucked in a breath. “That sounds… catastrophic.” My throat tightened.
“It was. Wolfe disappeared after. Then the man cloaked himself and you were carried away by an invisible force.” Bastian drew in a breath.
“The dragons were trapped for hours. I tracked you back to the Stormfell, so I assumed the attackers must have been sent by your people to find you. I never considered Thayden. The power behind the attack didn’t fit. ”
“That man… it sounds like Thayden,” I said, certainty hardening in my chest. Ramming a sword through Wolfe’s heart had Thayden written all over it.
Bastian nodded. “The dragons didn’t know who he was, but they could identify him if they saw him again.”
“What about Wolfe? I heard him calling, but… what if it wasn’t him? What if he didn’t survive the blow?”
“The dragons are still acting as if they’re bound to him,” Alaric answered.
“When my father died, the power of the king shifted to Wolfe immediately and the dragon bond became deeper. I am next in line. I’ve felt no change in my magic.
” His jaw flexed. “That doesn’t mean we can take comfort for long.
Wolfe has been missing for several days.
That says a great deal about his condition.
He’d be here already if he could save himself. If he’s alive… he’ll only grow weaker.”
They all nodded, a silent unity settling over the room, and the hope on their faces, raw and fiercely held, sparked something inside me.
I let myself believe we might actually find him.
“We also need to find him before others suspect he’s missing,” Arielle added. “So far, we’ve convinced Dreynthor that Wolfe is investigating the rebels.”
Dreynthor—the uncle who didn’t like me. I had no doubt he’d enjoy hearing Wolfe was gone.
“Okay,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “So, what’s the plan?”
Alaric straightened, shifting fully into command. “For now, we put all matters concerning Thayden aside. We can regroup once we—hopefully—have Wolfe back.” His gaze pinned me. “We brought you in because you’re linked to him.”
The word linked settled heavily in my gut. “The shackle.”
“Yes, the shackle. We want to try a tracking spell, similar to the one we’ve been using to find the ring,” he explained. “We’ll use the shackle as a compass. We have to return to the Southern Isles to perform the spell.”
“Do you think that will work?” I asked. “My mind drifted into that gray space, but I saw nothing.”
“I think that’s because you weren’t equipped to go there,” Alaric said. “Your soul may have brushed that place, but some things require the body and mind to follow.”
“I see.”
“Elariya.” Alaric leaned forward. “If Wolfe is out there, this might be our only chance to find him.”
“Then we have to do it.” I nodded, duty tightening through me. Duty to the girl who’d written the journal, the girl who’d loved them. The girl who’d loved Wolfe. “How will we get to the Southern Isles?”
“Portaling.” Arielle turned toward me on the couch. “You’ll come with me.”
Bastian leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs, eyes intent. “We leave now, if you’re up to it.”
I pressed my palms into my knees and lifted my chin. “Yes.” A breath steadied me. “I’m up to it.”
Alaric rose slowly from his seat, decision settling into him like armor. “Then let’s go. Sirril, stay back and prep in case we return with injuries.”
Sirril bowed his little head. “Consider it done, my Lord.”
“Okay, let’s go.” With a snap of his fingers, Alaric opened up a portal and stepped in.
We followed.
One moment, we were in the living room at Vyrenth Hollow, the next, the world spun into a kaleidoscope of color and sensation, reality fracturing around me like shattered glass.
Arielle tightened her grip around my shoulders, and I curled into her, fear gripping my insides. Then wind tore at my hair, my clothes, my very essence as I was pulled through a tunnel of swirling light.
The portal's energy crackled along my skin like lightning, leaving me breathless and dizzy as everything blurred into streaks of silver and violet and suddenly—stillness.