Chapter 54
Something Fixed. Something Broken.
Following Endymion out of the cell, I gasped, steadying myself against the corridor wall as a wave of energy flashed through me.
“Are you okay?” Endymion said, checking me over.
I shook my head, reorienting myself. “I think so.”
I hadn’t realized just how oppressed magic had been inside that obsidian tomb, but with every second I stood on the other side, I could feel the Mother again. I tried to conjure, to no avail.
My gaze snapped to Endymion’s. “I thought you gave us the antidote.”
“I did. But it can take hours to flush your system.”
Feeling exposed, I made for my bandolier, hating that it was displayed on the wall like some sort of trophy.
“You can’t,” Endymion said, stopping me.
My brows furrowed. “What do you mean I can’t?” I said with more bite than intended.
He glanced to the exit, then back to me, as if weighing the time it would cost to explain. “If I lead the three of you out of here clad in weapons, we won’t make it out of this palace.”
“Prisoner transport?” Sidrick asked coming to my side.
“It’s the only way,” Endymion said, “unless one of you has a light-weaving unara.”
“Like, invisibility?” I asked, feeling stupid for even saying it aloud.
“Invisible, no,” Artton offered. “But if we did—which we don’t”—he threw a look at Endymion that I couldn’t quite read—"then the unara could make us blend in by looking like autumn soldiers."
“Really? That’s possible?”
“Not that I’ve witnessed in this lifetime,” Artton said.
“But it is theoretically possible,” Sidrick added.
“Regardless,” Endymion said, growing impatient, “your weapons have to stay here.”
“You want us to go out there weaponless?”
His jaw clenched, swallowing what he wanted to say, and I had a feeling that if I’d been anyone else, he would’ve reminded them that what he wanted was for us to be anywhere but here.
“Not weaponless,” he offered. “I have full access to my powers, so I don’t need my swords.
Sidrick and Artton can draw them if needed. ”
My eyes naturally darted to the hilts that stood taller than his wide shoulders on either side.
The intensity of his eyes pinned me. “As for you, you have the spark. Don’t hesitate to use it if you need.
” Reaching around himself, he pulled out a dagger—though it wasn’t meant for throwing.
It was barely the size of his thumb, and served one purpose: stabbing in a pinch.
“May I?” he asked, indicating the sternum of my leathers.
“Umm…”
“I had Caius build in a hidden compartment to hold a blade,” he explained.
Now knowing it was there, it still took me a moment to see where the blue scales of the leathers misaligned a fraction. I nodded, not taking my eyes off that spot.
“Use it only as a last resort.” Endymion’s deft hands made quick work of it, sliding the blade just under my left breast, dangerously close to my heart—which made sense as I was right-handed. I was surprised that I couldn’t feel it and wondered if there was a built-in sheath.
I shifted my focus to find Artton and Sidrick holding out their arms, wrist together. I frowned as Endymion swiped his hand over their offering and glowing amber hues came to life in the form of wrist restraints.
I stepped back.
“No,” I found myself saying, stepping back farther.
“Spark,” Artton said, drawing my attention. “They’re fake.” In demonstration, he closed his fists and jerked them outward. Instantly, the magical bands snapped into countless embers that dimmed as they fell to the ground.
My gaze snapped to Sidrick, who gave me a reassuring smile. “We need to look the part.”
Every fiber of my being hated the idea of it, but they were right.
Even still, I made Artton go again before, I reluctantly drew my wrists together.
Endymion stepped up to me and touched my wrist with a feather-light touch as he held my gaze.
His dark features lit as his magic flared to life, as it danced across my writs. “There,” he said, gently. “Not so bad.”
“Not so bad,” I agreed.
He offered me a soft smile and then stepped back, sliding into his role once again.
“We have to hurry. I had the soldiers guarding the entrance clear a path for us through the palace. We’ll most likely hit resistance after we leave the building, but the moment we’re off the palace grounds, we can valen. ”
Artton slid in front of me while Sidrick took up the rear, and I cast a glance over my shoulder at the white bandolier given to me by the male that led us—my heart already aching from its loss.
“Wait,” I said, my stomach dropping as I finally registered what he’d said about our exit strategy. “What if their powers don’t return by then, Endymion? You can only valen two of us out.”
“I find another way home,” Sidrick said from behind me.
I whipped around, stopping us dead in our tracks. “Excuse me?”
“He’s right, Spark.”
“No!” My voice echoed through the long tunnel.
Endymion stepped past Artton, coming so close that I had to tilt my chin up to hold his gaze.
“Little Star,” he said, voice tender, “your ability to love and care for those around you—your humanity—is one of the things I treasure most about you. But I need you to understand that the only way any of us is getting out of here alive is if we’re militant about it.
It’s not fair. It’s not even just. Survival rarely is.
I’ve known Sidrick and his family for nearly two centuries now, and it would kill me to leave him, but he’s the lower-ranking officer to Artton, and there’s absolutely no question that you will be the other one I take.
” He caressed the side of my face, eyes pooling with emotion.
“I know what I’m about to ask of you is unfair, but I need you to tuck aside your compassion and show up like the spark.
The one that decimated Wymond’s Shadow Hounds. Can you do that? For me?”
Gods, this was impossible. And in that moment, I realized it wasn’t just him I’d anchored to. It was all of them, though in different ways.
“I hate this,” I whispered, giving in to his request.
Sliding his thumb down my cheek, he gave me a sad smile. “Me too.”
We fell into a taut silence after that.
As promised, the exit was clear. Endymion didn’t falter as he stepped out of the tunnel, and I breathed a little easier when I saw nature—even if the rain pelting the windows was eerily multiplied as it echoed through the empty hall.
It was daytime, though with the storm mirroring Myron’s emotions made discerning time difficult.
We turned left. Then right. Then descended down a winding set of stairs into another corridor lit by orbs. Down here the clipped sounds of our footfalls bounced freely off of the walls, unencumbered by the rain this far underground.
The matte black floor began to slope up at quite an angle, and as light filtered in from ahead, I idly wondered why they hadn’t chosen stairs instead.
Being third in our procession, I could only see glimpses of where we were headed, but it looked like we were headed for a fairly large juncture, and I couldn’t help but worry if we’d be too exposed.
Wanting a better look, I peeked to the side and froze as two silhouetted figures blotted out the natural light as they walked toward us.
“Don’t stop,” Sidrick said from behind, forcing me to move forward without missing a stride. “Stay quiet and follow Endymion’s lead.”
I nodded and kept pace, my hand itching to reach for that blade even though I knew it would be woefully inadequate in an all-out skirmish. Forcing in a calm breath, I kept pace with the others.
“Commander,” a voice called, and I wasn’t the only one to tense at Lothar’s voice. “You got them already,” he said, sounding surprised. “The order just came in.”
Endymion didn’t miss a beat as he continued to lead us forward. “Perhaps that’s why I’m Lord Wymond’s High Commander, and you’re not—I don’t have to wait for orders to know what they’ll be.”
Lothar didn’t respond, and I didn’t have to see him to know the blow hit him where it hurt—his ego—proving Endymion could be lethal in more than one way.
I’d never seen the autumn trio interact before, but it didn’t take a genius to see they had a different dynamic than the summer commanders I stood between.
They seemed hostile. Competitive, even. Then again, that’s exactly how the Autumn Court ran its military.
I’d read the horrors myself when confirming Endymion’s history.
“Shall we help with the escort?” Njal asked, and fuck me if his voice didn’t crawl across my skin like a thousand spiders.
Stopping, Endymion stood at the front, shielding us from his commanders who reached us faster than I wanted—which was never. Heart pounding, and I wanted more than anything to jump into motion, but Sidrick’s grounded me.
“Lead the way,” Endymion said, gesturing for them to turn around and walk ahead.
I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could feel the hesitation.
“Is there a problem?” Endymion said, his voice holding the sharp edge of a warning.
It was subtle, but Artton and Sidrick shifted closer to me.
“Procedure dictates—”
“That you follow your commander’s orders,” Endymion said, cutting Lothar off. “You’re lucky Wymond hasn’t heard about the cost of your incompetence, yet.”
“We got her, didn’t we?” Njal protested.
Endymion stepped forward. “You lost every last one of his Shadow Hounds, poisoned her—despite his explicit orders against it because we don’t know how it will affect the spark—and you let two of them get away. But, sure, you got her.”
“Actually,” Lothar drawled, “we just came from delivering the other two to Wymond.”
“No,” I gasped, and looked to Sidrick over my shoulder.
His face was stone, but his eyes—gods, his eyes met mine with the same horror coursing through my veins.
“Wipe that smirk off both your faces,” Endymion ordered. “Cleaning up your own mess is no reason to be smug. Now that he has those two as well, I take it Lord Wymond is ready to meet in the Great Hall?”
“Yes,” Lothar answered.
“Yes, Sir,” Endymion corrected, reminding them who their superior was.
The air grew thick as the seconds ticked by with stiff silence, and I braced myself.
“Yes, Sir,” Lothar finally ground out, the words costing him.
“Let’s not keep our High Lord waiting,” Endymion said, adding further insult by ignoring Lothar’s concession.
Mercifully, Endymion’s tactic worked, and the two unwelcome fae began leading us without another word—though I wasn’t convinced that was a good thing.
Just over Artton’s shoulder, I saw Endymion throw a quick glance his way. The summer commander nodding to whatever had been silently communicated.
No more than five steps later, Artton slid in beside Endymion, swiping something from him before they both brought up an arm and lunged in tandem. Their silhouettes made a quick left-right movement, and before I could even bring my hands to my mouth in shock, two bodies fell to the ground.
“Good work,” Endymion said.
“I’ll say,” Sidrick agreed as he came to my side. “I was worried there for a moment.”
I stood there in shock, looking down at the two autumn fae whose necks had been sliced open and simultaneously frozen by the ice daggers Endymion dismissed.
There was no doubt that Lumnara was better for their absence, but I couldn’t help feeling sick at just how quick their lives were ended. Stars, there wasn’t even a drop of blood from the frozen wounds.
“Nyleeria?” Endymion said, dragging my gaze away from scene. “Are you okay?”
I nodded absently; not sure I was.
“What do you want to do with the bodies?” Sidrick asked, breaking his restraints to help.
Endymion and Artton shared a glance before the former addressed Sidrick. “I’m going to do something, but you’ll have to wait until we’re back in the Summer Court for answers—are we clear.”
The sides of Sidrick’s mouth drew down, and with wary eyes, he nodded.
Artton signaled for us to step back.
Now waiting to see what happened, Sidrick and I watched with rapt attention.
Standing above the bodies, Endymion called upon a fairly significant amount of power, and as we watched on, we were forced to shield our eyes as pillars of blinding flame—no, light—flooded downward from his palms in a flash.
I blinked, unable to reconcile the piles of ash where the bodies had been there seconds before.
“What the actual fuck?” Sidrick said, enunciating each word as he took in what was left of Wymond’s third and fourth commanders.
I’d barely heard either brother swear, but the eldest had clearly hit his limit.
My shoulders tensed, not knowing how this would go.
Artton and I both knew he and Endymion had powers he shouldn’t, but Caius’ third had been left in the dark, and I felt a pang for him now knowing how long they’d known each other.
Not answering, Endymion summoned a breeze that caught the dust on its coattails and washed the evidence away.
Just like that, Lothar and Njal were no more, and I’d be lying if the ease with which it’d happened didn’t make me feel uneasy.
“Endymion,” Sidrick demanded.
“When we’re back, Sidrick,” Endymion countered, his tone brokering no room for argument. “For now, consider it an unara.”
The summer fae looked like he wanted to argue, but Artton put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We have to get out of here, brother.”
“Don’t brother me,” Sidrick spat, wrenching his shoulder away. “You knew.”
“I did,” Artton admitted, taking the accusation on the chin. “But it wasn’t my secret to tell.”
Sidrick scoffed and looked like he was going to respond, but Endymion cut him off. “You have every right to be pissed, but later. There’s no room for that now.”
I’d seen Endymion’s mask slide on. Even Tarrin’s and Artton’s. And seven hells, I’d thought I’d seen it on Sidrick too. But the blank expression that seemed to steal the life from those deep, mahogany eyes was haunting—and I knew I wasn’t the only one to track it.
“I’m sorry,” Endymion offered, but the damage was done.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Sidrick said,, the words listless as held his wrist up for his fake restraints.
I understood then that it wasn’t the mask of a commander I’d just witnessed, but of a male who’d just realized he only truly had one brother—and we’d have to leave him behind.