Chapter 3 #2
Of Eithan.
Each thought tore through me like shrapnel. I screamed for the betrayal. For every stolen choice. For every lie that had kept me bound. I screamed until the sound splintered in my chest and left only the hollow ache beneath it.
Finally, when my power was wrung dry and knees threatened to give out, my arms dropped to my sides, shoulders drooping. We held each other’s gaze as my ragged breaths echoed through the deserted corridor.
Tears streaked my cheeks as I silently begged Endymion to understand—to see what trusting him would cost me. What calling this place home would do to me. That a part of me had died back in the human realm, and no matter how hard he tried, there was no resurrecting it.
After a long moment, his gaze softened, and in a heartbeat the version of him I’d once known—the one who’d danced with me, trained beside me, and offered kindness—stared back.
He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, his attention snapping to the side just before someone valenned in.
But not before I caught it—something quiet in his expression.
Not pity. Not remorse. Understanding. The kind that comes from carrying one’s own ruin and recognizing it in another.
“Caius is—” The male fell short of words as he took in the scene.
Exhaustion clung to me, and my brows knit together as I tried to remember who he was. I knew I’d met him, but…
“What is it, Artton?” Endymion asked, the spoken name shaking the memory loose. He was Caius’ second—the fae who’d valenned the king and me from the human realm to the Summer Court.
“What the fuck happened?” Artton said, casually gesturing to our general surroundings.
I followed his gaze and did a double take.
The flowers I’d been enchanted by moments before were decayed, some of them crumbling to ash that floated away on the light breeze that seemed to perpetually grace the corridor.
Wide-eyed, I swallowed and glanced between them, feeling a prickle of anxiety at the base of my neck.
“Nothing,” Endymion said.
I shot him a look of disbelief at the same time as Artton snorted.
A conspiratorial smirk revealed a tiny dimple in his right cheek—the lightheartedness easing a fragment of my fear.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He chuckled, then shook his head.
Humor still in his voice, he said, “Well, when you’re done dealing with nothing, Caius wants to meet. ”
“Understood.” Endymion’s tone was a clear dismissal.
The summer fae looked like the cat that ate the canary as he took another quick look around. “You know, if this is your idea of nothing, then I’d hate to see—”
“Artton,” Endymion cut in.
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll let Caius know you’ll join us…” He let the final word hang, waiting for Endymion to respond.
“As soon as I can.”
“As soon as you can. Great. I’m sure the High Lord will be thrilled by the specificity.”
Endymion’s eyes narrowed, and Artton flashed him a wide grin, offering a mock salute before vanishing.
Alone again, I took in the devastation surrounding us. An uncomfortable mixture of feelings brewed at the sight of it, and I was unsure if the damage was from my powers, Endymion’s, or both.
As if sensing my mounting distress, the autumn fae offered me a small smile.
“It’s nothing magic can’t fix.” Then he leaned down to retrieve my daggers, wiped the blades on his leathers as if it were an unconscious habit, handed them back to me, and turned on his heel to continue forward as if nothing had happened.
Stunned, I stared after him for a moment before silently following in his shadow, too shocked—or perhaps too tired—to do anything else.
Shortly after, Endymion stopped and faced me. “This will be your residence,” he said, indicating a white rose archway to his right.
Staying put, I raised a questioning brow.
“Nyleeria,” he said with a sigh, and I couldn’t help but feel the plea in his own exhaustion. “Call this place home, or don’t. Either way, Caius has promised this residence to you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that for as long as you live, you will always have a place to come back to.”
I swallowed, both touched and petrified by the implications. Nyleeria from a year ago might have swooned at the offering. But the one who stood before the towering fae now quaked in equal measures of fear and fury—the former bracing for betrayal, the latter bucking against the lack of choice.
“Why don’t we just start with tonight,” he said, as if knowing exactly where my thoughts had gone.
“Tonight,” I whispered to myself. There was something about the impermanence of that one simple word that allowed the tiniest fragment of comfort to slip past the hardened chrysalis of emotion that had formed out of necessity.
My focus drifted to the other side of Endymion, where another archway stood proud. Although it wasn’t so much an archway as an arched tunnel of flowers, which were familiar in a way.
I took a step toward it, sensing Endymion’s eyes on me as I gazed into its depthless beauty.
Instead of being covered in endless white roses like its twin at my back, this one bloomed in glittering onyx, revealing sapphire and indigo hues as it danced in the light.
It was dark. And brooding. And…beautiful.
My fingers tingled, as if the spark wanted to experience my curiosity too.
I obliged, lifting my hand and closing my eyes as the magical resonance of the archway played across my fingertips like the thrum on the skin of a drum. A subtle pull tugged in the opposite direction, drawing my gaze toward where it called—toward Endymion.
Palm outstretched before him, he looked at me with unbridled curiosity as I concentrated. The same tingling vibration reverberated through me, and as I caught his gaze, I realized where I’d seen the particular blend of coloring that adorned the tunnel.
“It’s yours,” I said, lowering my hand. As soon as the words left my lips, I knew with absolute certainty they were true. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one Caius had offered a home to—which was more than curious, unless all seconds were given residences in other courts.
His throat bobbed. “Yes.” The word was rough, yet soft in a way that seemed vulnerable, and until that moment, I wouldn’t have thought it possible. I knew there should’ve been a million questions crashing into me, but I couldn’t seem to pluck a single one, caught off guard by his tenderness.
Voice still rough, he said, “Caius’ residence is at the end of the hall, flanked by Artton’s and Sidrick’s. You don’t have to call it home, but for now, it’s the safest place for you.”
And although I wished it weren’t so, I knew there was truth in his words.
Before I could speak, Endymion gestured to the white archway, which seemed to pulse with anticipation—as if calling me into its embrace. “Let me walk you to the doors,” he said, indicating for me to go ahead.
“Doors? As in plural?” I asked, eyes darting to his.
“Yes, as in plural,” he said, his voice honeyed by a soft chuckle deep in his throat.
Curious, I stepped past him toward the archway, the soft scent of roses enveloping my senses.
As I crossed the floral barrier, utter darkness stole my sight, and I instinctively stepped back only to collide with Endymion’s hard frame.
Pulse kicking, I froze, then shifted away from him just enough to break the connection.
“It’s okay,” Endymion soothed from behind me. “The residence is adjusting itself to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just wait,” he whispered. “I promise it’s something you’ll want to see.”
Heart still pounding, I looked out into nothingness, my eyes trying feverishly to focus on what didn’t exist.
“Endymion—”
“Patience.”
Something about him—his voice, his body heat, his presence—wrapped itself around me, as if to remind me I was safe. And although my mind kicked at the soothing weight of him, my body uncoiled.
As my breaths slowed, the tunnel illuminated.
From the opposite side, sparks of color in mesmerizing teals, blues, pinks, and turquoises swirled as they lazily danced their way toward me, just as they had in the void.
A bright ember emerged from the rest, stopping a lover’s distance away. Hovering in place, I somehow knew it was as curious about me as I was about it.
I lifted my hand in offering, the small movement making the spark hop back as if startled. Its sudden retreat had me jerking away.
“It’s okay,” Endymion said, his voice impossibly soft, and I couldn’t tell if his words were meant for me or the sentient magic.
Tentatively, I offered my palm again and swallowed, silently sending my intention its way, letting it know I meant no harm. The ember seemed to stir, its curiosity piqued more than its fear.
I stayed utterly still as it cautiously drew closer, then slowly—so slowly—lowered itself onto my fingertips. My breath caught with an audible gasp as a soft pleasure passed through me—like a stolen moment basking in the sun’s embrace or a delicacy slowly coating my tongue.
I watched as its deep violet color seeped into my fingers and then into my veins. The rest of the embers seemed to buzz with delight, and without knowing why, I brought two fingers together and snapped them, conjuring a tiny Spark of my own.
The tunnel erupted into a flurry of colorful chaos, and a wide smile broke through my past as I stared in complete and utter awe. Then, in a blink, everything stilled—as if called to attention—then shot toward the draping flowers, staining their pristine white petals with their beauty.
Gone were the white roses. In their place hung tiny, dangling flowers of every animated color, as if the dancing embers had been frozen in time. A light breeze fluttered through the vines, and for a fleeting moment, it looked as if they danced once more.
Tears pricked my eyes as I turned to Endymion, needing to see his expression.
His eyes glittered with reverence as he looked down at me.
“It’s… beautiful,” I managed.
“Yes,” he said, and I wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the flowers.