Chapter 17 An Upgrade #2
I didn’t respond immediately, needing a moment to separate his emotions from mine.
“Tarrin was at the mercy of Thaddeus,” I said, words soft. “Just as I was. I’d like to—no—I need to believe that he did everything he could. And when the bond was broken, he told me. He didn’t hide from the truth.”
“But he didn’t tell you all of it. He still kept things from you; otherwise, you wouldn’t have had to learn about your parents from a bloody vision.”
“You’re right,” I admitted. “But Thaddeus is powerful in his own right. In the vision, Tarrin spoke of being bound, how he couldn’t tell me because he was still beholden to something outside of their connection.”
Endymion’s jaw ticked for a moment as he tried to compose himself, then on an exhale he said, “I will do as you ask. For you, I’ll do it.
But to be clear, his existence disgusts me.
All of them do.” His words were such that I could almost taste their bitterness as if it were mine.
“I will never forgive what happened to you. And I’d be remiss if I let any of them live in the end.
” There was no apology. No hesitation. And I knew with certainty that he’d not only kill them if given the chance, he’d revel in doing it.
I understood where he was coming from—I really did. But it was more nuanced than I’d ever be able to explain. Not to mention, this conversation did nothing to allay the knot in my stomach that was tied over him going back to the Autumn Court.
With nothing else to be said on the matter, we continued in silence down the long corridor, though I didn’t miss Endymion’s stolen glances out of the corner of my eye.
Now standing between the twinned archways, his weight shifted, and had I not known him better, I might’ve thought him nervous.
“Can you wait here for a moment,” he finally said. “I have to grab a few things. But… can you wait?” I nodded, and he gave me a small smile before turning toward his residence.
As he walked away, my heart sank, and I suddenly wondered if he’d been lying to me; that he wasn’t as nonchalant about going back to the Autumn Court as he’d have everyone believe.
A few minutes later he reemerged through the archway that reminded me so much of him and his dark, glittering power.
It was clear what he needed to grab before he left—weapons.
Another sword was sheathed at his back, the equally stunning hilt peeking over his opposite shoulder.
Daggers now lined his ribs, and I hadn’t remembered him armed with so much weaponry when he’d found me in the Autumn Court.
Then again, a lot had happened, and my mind was anything but clear.
A part of me hoped I’d been too distracted to notice and that he didn’t feel the need to be more prepared now than before.
The one thing that didn’t fit was some sort of light cream-colored fabric that draped over his forearm, which seemed dwarfed by him.
He approached with a small, tentative smile. As he got closer, he shifted his hand through the fabric, letting it drape over his palm, arm now extended.
My breath caught as I realized what it was. It wasn’t fabric at all. Closing the gap between us, I ran my fingers along the deliciously soft leather, and then, my eyes caught a shimmering gleam poking out.
My eyes shot up to his. “It’s a bandolier!”
The corners of his mouth ticked up in earnest. “And blades.”
I went to reach for them, then paused, looking up at him. “May I?”
His eyes crinkled at the sides. “You may.”
Breath was stolen from my lungs as I teased one of the daggers from where it nestled in its sheath.
They were comparatively smaller to my own, the entire length of them barely the size of the blade of my remaining daggers, but because of the clever design, there was no need for a hilt; not in the traditional sense anyway.
No, this was designed with one purpose—to fly.
This design made them extremely light and thin enough that they could be hidden almost anywhere without an opponent being able to spot it.
But of all those details, none compared to the sheer artistry of the blade.
The hilt was so reminiscent of the warm, golden sun at dawn that my mind conjured an ancient god dipping it in the star’s light to capture its beauty.
As I tilted the blade, something like runes—or ancient writing—swirled down the outermost sides of the blade, framing what appeared to be an empty, almost glass chamber of sorts.
“Endymion,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on the dagger as I ran my fingers down its face, “it’s…”
“Beautiful.” The quiet word told me he was closer than I realized, and I looked up to find him taking me in, not the blade.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Tracing my fingertips along it one last time, I reluctantly tucked the beauty back, then took a step back. “Thank you for showing me. They’re… elegance incarnate.”
Shaking his head, he looked at me with a saddened expression I didn’t understand. “No, Nyleeria, you misunderstand. I’m not showing you. I’m gifting it to you.”
With an expectant look, he held out his hands a little further.
I could’ve sworn my heart stilled as my focus alternated between him and the bandolier. “A gift. For… for me?” I whispered.
With a nod, he rolled his fingers until the offering rested precariously on his index finger.
Speech and thought were lost to me as I finally reached out and accepted his offering, the weight of it insignificant—and yet not.
Plucking one of the daggers from its sheath, he held it by the thumb-hold and gave me a crooked smile.
“Just like you, these blades are the only ones of their kind.” My eyes widened, utterly stunned.
“Other than their exquisite beauty”—he flipped it around as if he’d done it a million times before—"they have two distinct characteristics. "
He looked at the blade intently, and I couldn’t help but lean in, breath held.
Magic flared from his fingertips and pooled into the blade, instantly flowing down the runes before settling into the translucent antechamber, which now housed some sort of blue essence that seemed to flow like liquid fire.
“Is that?” I asked, my words breathy as I reached for it, then pulled back suddenly nervous.
“You can touch it. It won’t hurt you.” His words were soft, comforting.
As my finger touched the blade, my entire body ignited in response to his power, and had I not seen him imbue it myself, there would have been no mistaking it was his magic; like it was infused with his own personal signature that my powers seemed drawn toward.
“The second,” he said, shifting his grip to tip, “is this.” With a flick of his wrist, the dagger flew through the air at a dizzying speed.
Just before it hit the center of the wooden beam to our left, the blue magic flared and a rush of water exploded as the familiar, glorious thunk of wood giving way to a blade filled my senses.
Then… it vanished.
I whipped my head to him only to find the blade nestled back in the bandolier. Unable to help myself, I withdrew it and sunk it into the same scar he’d just created.
Two heartbeats later it reappeared.
An excited giggle escaped me. I slid on the bandolier and looked up at Endymion feeling joy and excitement for the first time in a long while.
Screw immortality—that was the coolest thing about being fae.
Grinning from ear to ear, I turned my focus back on him. “Thank you. It’s… Thank you.”
My heart stuttered as he looked at me like my joy was everything to him. He blinked, and it was gone, replaced by a more serious timbre.
“Artton will show you how to use their magical properties. It won’t sate the spark’s need to be used, but it will help you dispel some of it.”
Nose crinkling, I said, “Does it have to be Artton?”
A low chuckle mingled with his next words. “It does. He’ll grow on you, I promise.”
I went to make some quip about how growing on me was not a selling feature, but I could feel a pull from him—like he should’ve left already.
“I promise I’ll be diligent, Nyleeria.”
And just like that, a heavy blanket of his imminent departure settled over us.
“I don’t want you to be diligent,” I said, sobering. “I want you to be safe.”
He stepped into my space, and my breath hitched as he held my gaze with an intensity that had my powers swirling, reaching, grappling—for him. A thick silence fell between us. One lacking space and oxygen. One full of something charged. Something I couldn’t name.
Leaning in a bit further, his voice was laced with a low apology as he said, “I have to go.”
“I know,” I whispered, my powers tightening around my chest like a vise.
Then, while staring into his depthless eyes, his powers rallied around him.
Panic surged through me, and I instinctively reached out my hand for his.
I came up empty.
He was gone.