Chapter 19
Hunting Clarity
Luckily, I hadn’t noted any signs that my powers needed release, although the same couldn’t be said for the pang I’d felt seeing Endymion’s archway as I turned down my own.
Blatantly ignoring it, I continued to my residence, wanting to change into something more suitable in case Caius—or whomever he sent—was able to train with me sooner than later.
Stepping into my bedchamber, I paused, noting two neat stacks of books on my bed. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the bookshelves from the far room peek out through the open door, and wondered why Fenyte hadn’t shelved them like the rest.
Curious as to what could be so important that he placed them on my bed, I moved toward them. A piece of neatly folded parchment lay on the stack to the right, my name written in tidy, uniform block letters. Unfolding it, I began reading.
Little Star.
I jolted, and my heart skipped a beat as my eyes instantly jumped past the short note to the bottom landing on Endymion’s signature. My chest fluttered, and I forced myself to shake off the feeling. Mindlessly, I half sat on the plush bed, bowed my head, and took in a deep breath.
Little Star,
I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you about your connection to the Celestial Court and Lumnara, but it was Caius’ story to tell, and he’d asked me to be the one to share it with you.
I know that ever-churning, brilliant mind of yours has more questions than answers right now, so I’ve selected these books from my personal collection in the hopes that you find the answers you’re owed and the ones you seek.
Endymion
I sat there stunned, looking between the dozen or so texts of varying sizes and the parchment. Putting the note to the side with care, I let my shoes fall to the ground, slid back farther onto the bed, crossed my legs, and reached for the book that he’d placed the note on.
Flipping it over from spine to fore edge, I noticed there were tiny, sporadically placed indents at the top and bottom corners.
Catching my nail in one of them, I guided the tome open to the page, brows knitting as I realized the corner had been folded in.
Pretty sure Fenyte would ban me from the library if I’d ever defaced a book in that manner; I was suddenly grateful these were Endymion’s.
Realizing the tab faced the other way, I flipped the page over to find an underlined passage with a note crammed into the small margin next to it in Endymion’s now-familiar block script.
Nyla, see pg. 287.
The corners of my mouth tugged up at the abbreviation of my name as I read the short paragraph on the Autumn Court, then kicked over to page 287 as directed. His notes had me bouncing between books like a scavenger hunt.
Hours passed as I slowly put together court histories and, more importantly, their ramifications.
Turned out that the Summer and Winter Courts were more powerful than their equinox counterparts.
Which made sense, although it wouldn’t have been something I’d ever thought of if he hadn’t pointed it out to me.
But solstices celebrate extremes, while—as its name dictates—an equinox is derived from balance, which doesn’t equate strength.
At least not the kind the fae seem to revere.
As for the Autumn Court itself, most of the information Endymion had tagged and highlighted was found in one of two extremely dense tomes on military history, and while the text was dry, the story it painted was anything but.
Fighting, honor, and death were in autumn’s blood by nature, meaning it was only natural for them to militarize over time.
But it wasn’t until Tackejta, Wymond’s great-grandfather, that their skirmishing clans of hot-headed brutes banded together with a unified purpose—equality.
And I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine from Endymion’s note drawing a parallel to what the Celestial Court had faced.
Tackejta had made a tactical error that cost him everything—he decided to broker an alliance with the most peaceful court in existence, the Spring Court, which promptly warned the Solstice Courts.
The war was staunched before it began. Heavy sanctions—oppressively so—were placed on the Autumn Court, although they were allowed to continue as a militarized court to serve at the behest of the realm as needed.
Tackejta was executed and replaced by Wymond’s father, Lagos, who reigned for over a millennium without incident—until the Great Curse.
The Autumn Court was ordered to march on the human realm, only once they got there, a ten-year-old boy cast a spell that stripped their army of all magic.
With weapons banned as part of the sanctions, they’d come to rely on their powers too much.
Vastly outnumbered, the humans slaughtered them by the thousands. The losses were catastrophic.
Mind reeling, I lay on my stomach, knees bent with feet suspended in the air, chin resting on my crossed forearms that rested atop the thickest tome of the bunch.
I understood now when Caius had told Wymond to stop interrogating me during the solstice dinner why it had felt like an order.
And although I was loath to admit it, Wymond and Thaddeus had a lot in common when it came to losing family and wanting the spark’s power to prevent repeated histories.
But I had a nagging feeling that there was something more, like there was a reason Wymond wanted to act now that had nothing to do with me.
Or maybe I was completely off-base, and the fact that he knew about the spark was the only catalyst.
A knock sounded at the door.
“It’s open,” I called, still tangled in my thoughts.
Booted footsteps echoed through the main room as they closed in. Raising my eyes, Artton came into view as he walked toward me then stopped, holding at the invisible line to my bedchamber.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, clearly agitated.
Just like that, the invisible halo of Endymion’s kindness faded, like someone stealing the warm blanket it’d been wrapped in. Annoyed, I raised a brow. “Normally, one starts with the most obvious place,” I deadpanned.
“Cute,” he drawled, thoroughly unimpressed. “Get dressed, I don’t have all evening.”
Confused, I looked outside realizing that I’d lost the entire day engrossed in Endymion’s margin notes. A small smile formed as warmth from his kind gesture had soothed his absence, even if only by a fraction.
“Seriously, I don’t have all night,” he said again, shifting his weight.
Not in the mood for games, I sat up on my knees and rested back on my heels, brows pulled together as I glowered at him. “Artton, what exactly is your problem with me?”
His eyes glinted with a so glad that you asked expression.
“You mean other than how you were being dicked down by our enemy same time last week, the fact that you joined the solstice under false pretenses, how you act like you own this place, your terrible judgment of character, or the fact that you almost got Endymion killed?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, bristling. Magic prickled in my chest as the kindling ignited. “You’re an ass, you know that?” It wasn’t the best retort I’d ever come up with, but something in the way he always threw facts in my face drew me up short with him.
He shrugged, then leaned a shoulder against the archway.
“Yeah, well, this ass has been ordered to help you dispel today.” Kicking off, he made for the wardrobe, then tossed a pair of pants and a light shirt on the bed beside me, not taking care to miss the tomes.
“Just in case you’re incapable of choosing something appropriate. ”
I didn’t miss the undertone he’d used on the word appropriate, reinforcing just what he thought about me and my choices or, more precisely, my choice in lover.
“Fuck you,” I said, anger stealing my wit.
He smirked. “Clearly, I should’ve come sooner. Good thing I didn’t bring a tray of food. Wouldn’t want to punish the wall for my mistake.”
I balled my fists, a deep flush rising to my cheeks from the insult.
“Change. I’ll meet you in the hall.” He turned his back to me and made for the archway out of my bedchamber.
“I’m surprised you think I’m capable, you know, being a fetus and all,” I spat.
He turned back, his gaze turning predatory as his long strides ate up the distance until he was at the foot of my bed. “Oh, Nyleeria, I think we’ve already established just how capable at undressing you are. Lucky for me, even you can figure out how to reverse the process.”
Before I could think better of it, my hand flew for a dagger. Quicker than I could track, Artton’s hand pressed against the soft leather. “Don’t you even think about it,” he growled.
“Or what?” I challenged, leaning into his space.
“Or you’ll find out what happens when you cross a fae that isn’t enamored by your charm.”
Fear, unbidden and unwelcome, flashed over me like freezing water as it suffocated the stoked fire beneath my skin. I swallowed, suddenly unsure if he meant it.
“Don’t make me ask you again,” he said, releasing his grip from the bandolier and righting himself. “And leave this here.” He pointed toward the blades before he turned to walked out.
“But Endymion told me that you’d teach me how to use them.” The desperate words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He didn’t miss a beat as he laughed without turning back. “Yeah, not going to happen.”
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath.
“I heard that,” he called back.
“It’s not a secret,” I yelled back.
The only response was the latch of the door catching as he closed it behind him.
Ten minutes later I was dressed, hair hastily tied up, and despite his clear command, the bandolier settled right where it belonged. I was ready in half that time, but screw him.
I held my chin up high as his eyes tracked the bandolier. He smirked. Fucken smirked.
Chuckling, he said, “Oh, Nyleeria, this is going to be fun.”
“Doubt that.”