Chapter 52 An Unlocking
An Unlocking
“What in the seven hells is going on here?” Endymion demanded.
I searched his dark expression for any hint of the male I’d come to know and sagged when he didn’t so much as glance in my direction.
“Don’t make me ask for a second time, your Majesty,” he warned.
Despite him feeling a world away, my heart cried out to him, begging for his help.
I realized with a start that I’d broken my vow to anchor to nothing and no one—and I silently hated myself for it.
Thaddeus’ cool laugh scraped down my last shred of sanity, and I began shivering hard enough that my teeth chattered. It was then that those depthless sea-blue eyes finally snapped to me before darting back to the king, who finally answered. “Just having a little visit.”
Endymion’s eyes flared with power, but that was the only sign of emotion as he said his next words with perfect calm.
“You are not permitted to be in here unsupervised or without permission.
And with good reason, it “I shall remind you, King Thaddeus that while we respect your honorific, you hold no official standing in this court and are only here at the pleasure of the High Lord as dictated by our contract, which offers you refuge from the time fluctuation in the human realm. Nothing more.”
“I’ll remind you, Commander,” Thaddeus said in a warning tone as he stepped past me, “if it weren’t for my knowledge that she’d carry her old blades like the sentimental little girl she is, you would’ve never found her.”
The king swirled his hand in that familiar way of his, and a blade appeared.
My blade. My missing blade. My bound hand made to move for the empty spot as if on muscle memory—and I understood then how they’d tracked me.
How they’d tracked us. Thaddeus had something of import to me. Something I’d thought was lost.
“And while the High Lord is grateful for your ability to track her through the missing blade of her set, that does not excuse this transgression.”
Thaddeus bristled, dismissing the dagger. “I’m almost done.”
“No,” Endymion said, stepping to the side of the open gate and swiping an arm to the side in a clear invitation for the king to leave. “You’ll remove yourself at once and be grateful that I haven’t removed you already.”
Thaddeus put his arms out to the side, palms forward, and pulled power forward.
Endymion took two large strides. Staring the king down, he said, “Go ahead, I dare you. But I promise, you won’t like what happens when your prey isn’t weakened by tricks.
Because unlike them,” he said, indicating the three of us, “I’m immune to the poison required for this cage of yours to work, or have you forgotten? ”
I watched carefully as Thaddeus’ jaw ticked.
Long, strained seconds passed before he clenched his fists, stopping the flow of power that was poised to head his command.
With a huff, he pushed passed Endymion. “This isn’t over,” he threw over his shoulder as he stormed out of the cell.
“This isn’t over!” His words echoed down the hall.
As if the magical tendrils binding me needed their maker, they vanished, allowing gravity to claim me.
Endymion was there in a flash, his large hands cradling my neck and the back of my head as he caught me.
I gasped from the contact, suddenly unable to breathe from the weight that filled my chest. His eyes went wide.
Quickly, he lowered his mouth to my ear.
“I need you to stay quiet and pretend like you don’t know me more than that one dance.
Understand?” His words were fast but firm.
I nodded, and he pulled back. Pain and anger shone through as he looked into my eyes. “May I?” he asked, and I didn’t look down, knowing what he meant. I nodded, holding his gaze as he fussed with my shirt before the sound of my leathers being closed flitted to my ears.
“I’m going to rest you on the floor,” he said, voice gentle.
“Stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.
” He made to leave, and my hand shot out, connecting with the leathers protecting his arms. My palm was dwarfed by his as he lifted it from his arms and held it between his.
“I’ll be right back, Little Star. I promise. ”
Heart pounding. Mind reeling. I didn’t want to let go—couldn’t let go. As if reading my mind, he looked over to the other two, and his brows pulled together in concern. I finally pulled my hand back, knowing they needed help too.
Endymion gave me a small smile before shifting back into the lethal commander. “Soldier,” he called out as he made for the door.
Resting my head on the cold ground that did nothing to stop my shivering, I watched as a male, smaller in stature, gave a small bow before standing tall. “Yes, Sir?”
“What do those weapons symbolize?” Endymion said, pointing to the side, and it was then that I realized all of our weapons were mounted on a wall as if on display. Though, had I not been lying at that angle, I wouldn’t have noticed them.
“They are the weapons of our enemies, sir,” the soldier responded, sounding proud.
“No,” Endymion corrected, “they are a symbol that our opponent is now at our mercy. More importantly that their lives are in our hands. When we disarm someone on the training field, we bow to them, give thanks, and offer our comrade a hand up. Why?”
“Out of respect, Sir.”
“Exactly. And why do they thank us back with a knee to the ground, head bowed?”
“Because the lesson they learned may save their life one day,” the soldier said without hesitation.
“Correct. Now, please explain to me the part of your training that led you to believe that it was okay to do nothing while you heard what was being done to those that are at our mercy and under our protection—and why you’d let anyone touch a female without her consent, let alone the spark?
” His voice rose on those final words, and the soldier wilted where he stood.
Looking down at his feet, the slight male shifted his weight several times before refocusing on his commander, clearly shaken. I watched, wondering what kind of leader Endymion was—curious to see what came next.
A heartbeat later, the soldier dropped to a knee and lowered his head in recognition that he was at his commander’s mercy, showing that he understood the lesson.
“Good. Now, you will go in and heal all three of them,” Endymion said, and it wasn’t until then that I noted that the soldier’s smaller frame was reminiscent of the Spring Court, not Autumn.
“Then, you’ll bring a fresh set of clothing, food, and water.
Double rations.” The soldier didn’t move as he took his orders, eyes still downcast. “At that time, I shall relieve you of your position.”
The soldier’s head snapped up, light green eyes filled with shock. “Sir, please!”
Endymion held up a hand, and the soldier closed his mouth, still looking up at his commander imploringly. “You will come by my quarters in an hour and collect a letter of recommendation addressed to High Lord Myron.”
Nodding, tears filled his eyes as his heart broke before us.
His autumn counterpart placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.
“Son,” he said, his voice softening. “By now, a soldier of your rank should’ve been able to turn King Thaddeus away.
You’re a strong healer and a competent fighter, but war is coming, and Myron could use someone like you in his ranks.
You may not understand it now, but I promise, this is not a punishment. ”
Hastily wiping at his eyes, he held three fingers over his heart and lowered his head. “Thank you, Sir.”
Releasing his hand from the young fae’s shoulder, Endymion held it out in offering in a way that seemed to mirror the respect shown after a training duel.
The soldier grabbed his commander by the elbow, and Endymion pulled him up.
With a nod, they released one another, and then, as commanded, the soldier made for me.
Groaning as I sat up, I shook my head. “Sidrick first. He needs it more.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder at his commander, who was watching me like a hawk. Arms now crossed as he leaned against the door frame, his cerulean eyes held mine as he said, “No. The spark first.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, and he narrowed them right back—the message clear, I wasn’t winning this one. Rolling my eyes, my focus shifted to the fae that approached, his delicate features so similar to Myron’s.
“May I?” he asked, reaching a hand out.
I nodded.
He knelt, then looking over his shoulder again, he said, “How deep do you want me to go, Commander?”
“As deep as you can. There’s too much poison coursing through their veins, and you don’t possess the power to clear it fully, so you won’t go deep enough to return their powers.”
My chest squeezed from the betrayal, and I looked at him for any sense of apology; only he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Endymion refused to look at me the entire time it took his pupil to heal us, and I couldn’t stop the pressure mounting in my chest as the minutes ticked on.
Healed, in fresh linens, and alone at last, I was suddenly nervous as Artton and Sidrick stood on either side of me facing Endymion.
I jumped when he closed the barred door harder than necessary before stalking toward us.
No. Toward Artton.
“Care to explain how the fuck you all ended up in this dungeon?” Endymion demanded with an anger that was at odds with the kindness he’d shown the soldier, and the practiced calm with Thaddeus.
“Not particularly,” Artton said, with a shrug—and while the words were mocking, his tone was dead serious.
Endymion eyes narrowed. “I am in no mood for insolence, Commander. Especially not when your idiocy brought Nyleeria right into Wymond’s grasp.”
“We were on orders,” Sidrick said, and gods was it good to hear his voice free of pain.
Endymion let out a humorless laugh before pinching the bridge of his nose as he said, “You were on orders.” He held that position for a long breath, before releasing his hand.
He stared my companions down with a look that would’ve made lesser males cower.
“You were on orders?” he bellowed the last word, finally losing his temper.
“Well…” He threw his arms in the air, and I’d never seen him this undone.
“As long as you were following orders. That makes it so much better that Nyleeria is in literal. Mortal. Danger. Do you know how fucken reckless this was? Seven hells, if Lanacia wasn’t in labor when Nyleeria was brought here, she’d already be dead.
What orders could’ve possibly possessed you to risk that? ”
The summer commanders shared a glance, but stayed silent.
As if reading that one silent exchange, Endymion’s face dropped.
He shook his head, and I could physically see him putting the pieces together.
“I’ll give it to you,” he finally said, sounding more level, “a double assassination would’ve protected her.
I’ll even give you credit for leveraging the most powerful unaras in existence.
Not to mention using the spark to rip a hole in the border any other blockades—which you absolutely would’ve needed to even think about getting close to the palace.
And fuck me, you even knew not to valen.
” He was pacing now, and feelings of anger—no, anxiety…
no… damn it, I couldn’t quite place what it was—weighed heavy on my chest.
“I’m sorry,” Caius’ second finally said, and all eyes shifted to him.
Endymion stopped pacing and turned to face us again. “Yeah, Artton.” He sighed. “I bet you are.” And for some reason, those words hit harder than when he’d raised his voice.
My heart ached as I felt Endymion’s warring emotions as if it was my battle. I rubbed at my chest, trying to dispel that unrelenting ache that ceased hounding me. He tracked the movement and gaze shifted to mine, softening the second our eyes locked.
Our situation was dire and that nothing good was on the horizon, but as his gaze held mine, I was flood with a deep sense of relief and safety, like he’d distracted that hound with a bone to offer me peace, if only for that moment.
“You’re okay?” I asked, my voice cracking.
His mask shattered into a million pieces right before my eyes as if my words had offered him the same peace. I couldn’t take my eyes off the unguarded male who was now close enough that I was forced to tilt my chin up to stay under his spell.
I paid no mind to Artton and Sidrick as the stepped away.
Endymion swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the effort. “I’m okay,” he finally said, voice gentle. “I’m sorry my absence worried you.”
“More than I realized,” I said as wave after wave of emotions flooded me.
“I hate that you’re here.”
That truth sank in every cell of my body, as I whispered, “I hate that you’re here, too.”
Leaning in, he lifted his hand to my face slowly, and unlike the moment we shared in the Summer Court, my body leaned in as if he’d become my center of gravity. I bathed in his gaze as the backs of his fingertips brushed against my cheek with a feather-light touch.
“Is this okay?” he asked, voice low.
He sank into my soul then, and as he did my rational mind scrambled to reject him—but gods help me, I anchored to him, no matter how much I’d sworn I wouldn’t.
“Yes.” The word came out breathless, and for some reason it felt like my answer extended past that moment.
His eyes softened, and a small smile curved his lips before he lifted his hand to cradle my face with both hands.
My breath caught as I melted into his warm touch—the simple contact shattering my walls.
Pressing my palms against his stomach to balance myself, I closed my eyes and allowed his deep essence to flood me with a sense of fullness and safety that I’d never experienced, and as it dove into the depths of my soul, my vault of pain and burdens unlocked.
And just like that, I unraveled, knowing they were no longer mine to carry alone.
“Oh. Little Star,” he breathed, pulling me into his chest. I crumpled into his embrace, feeling small in the most beautiful way as he wrapped me close.
I sobbed uncontrollably, the sounds muffled against his leathers as he took us to the ground and cradled me in his lap. Resting his chin atop my head, he held tight as he continually whispered, “I’ve got you, Little Star. I’ve got you.”