Chapter 58
No, Little Star
The rain had stopped, and I swore I could’ve heard a pin drop as the Great Hall descended into silence. Though soft, my footstep felt like the sound of an avalanche breaking free—only instead of walking away from the danger, I was walking toward it.
Toward Wymond.
Endymion placed a hand low on my back under the guise of escorting me to his High Lord, and the single caress of his thumb against my leathers gave me the strength I needed to move forward as it reminded me that I wasn’t alone; that he had a plan.
Gods, I prayed that plan of his would work, and not just for my sake, but for Lumnara’s.
Who knew what would happen to her should Wymond and Thaddeus get their way?
The two rulers stood imperious as I approached.
Now standing before them, it took everything in me to stay still.
Once in early spring, I’d come across a massive beast in the Nettorian Mountains.
I’d never forget the sensation when we’d locked eyes, its deep brown irises sizing me up.
Eithan’s words had played through my mind then, “Remember, if it’s brown, lay down.
Black, fight back.” The thick coat matching its eyes gleamed in the early morning sun, but despite Eithan’s words there was no way in seven the hells I would lay down—though, I also wasn’t stupid enough to run away.
Instead, with my arms low by my sides, I’d shown it my empty hands to show I wasn’t a threat.
Like the moment I’d waited for the beast to decide my fate, and I trembled.
Wymond’s honey-brown eyes were soft as he looked down at me, and it took me a moment to realize he was pleased with me.
“That’s a good little Spark,” he mocked as he patted the side of my face with his hand.
I weathered the touch, Endymion’s hand stiffing on my back.
“Now,” he said, puffing his chest out, “before you get any stupid ideas about using your powers to kill us, know that in doing so you’ll sentence your friends to death. ”
He looked over my shoulder, and I had to crane my neck past Endymion to see the black magic coating the exposed skin of my companions, like an inkwell had tipped, overwhelming the parchment below with its contents.
It was then that I noticed Artton kneeling, chained to the ground between Tarrin and Sidrick.
He looked like hells as he struggled to focus, as if the healing hadn’t quite taken full effect just yet.
Or perhaps that was as much as Adian was able—or permitted—to heal him.
My nose wrinkled, the sinful magic palpable from where I stood, and I couldn’t shake the sense of familiarity it evoked.
Wymond must have seen the question on my face as I turned back to him. He smiled, if that’s what one could call the sinister look.
“Death Thrall,” he said plainly.
My mind raced as if searching for a buried memory.
The name was new to me, but hadn’t someone once told me of Wymond’s powers?
Yes. They had. They’d explained that instead of pulling energy from the Mother to heal like Myron did, Wymond was capable of pulling life force from a living soul and returning it to her like all things in autumn—and somehow I knew all the healing power of the Spring Court wouldn’t be able to revive those touched by this malignant magic.
“Death Thrall,” I whispered, understanding the cost.
He nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, which seemed to be an Autumn Court trait; one I wasn’t particularly fond of. Though, outside the Mother’s beauty, I wasn’t sure there was a single thing I’d ever come to appreciate about this gods-forsaken court.
“Now,” the High Lord said, “I’m going to lift the poison block, allowing you to access your full powers. And when I do”—he paused giving me a warning look—"you’re going to remind yourself of the consequences should you use those powers against us, aren’t you?"
Swallowing, I nodded.
“Say it,” he snapped.
“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking on the simple word as anticipation and fear threatened to bring me to my knees.
“Good.” His patronizing tone grated on my nerves, forcing me to remind myself why I was doing this in the first place. His focus shifted past me, and a moment later, Endymion removed his hand from me and took a couple of steps back.
“Turn around,” Wymond ordered.
My body railed against the idea of having him at my back, but I did as I was told.
Endymion stood facing me, nearly equidistant between me and the others—Wymond’s magic still poised to snuff their lives.
His face was impassive as he focused on his High Lord, and a part of me was grateful for it.
I was barely holding on emotionally, and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d be able to shoulder the weight of his emotions, should they slip through.
A firm grip grasped my shoulders from behind, and I flinched away.
“Stand still, Nyleeria,” Wymond warned.
Hands balled into fists, I heeded his order as my chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the movement enough to remind me of the dagger hidden beneath my left breast. I wasn’t sure what was worse, being weaponless, or having a fucken useless weapon.
Though, with over a hundred soldiers under Wymond’s command, I wasn’t sure there was a weapon in existence that wouldn’t have proved just as inept as the one Endymion had armed me with.
A pang of guilt seared me as I realized I was supposed to be that weapon—yet, here I was, defenseless, and the reason my comrades were one whim away from death.
Without warning, Wymond pressed down on my shoulders, flooding me with his magic.
I’d prepared myself for the stinging sensation of the antidote, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the inferno that tore through my body. I fell to my knees, clutching my chest. The spark had been unleashed like a shooting star, only to collide with the walls of Wymond’s magic.
I couldn’t see past the searing hot pain as I collapsed forward, barely catching myself.
Autumn’s magic was forcefully pushed out of me as the spark reclaimed her rightful place, and while I was grateful for her return, my body had paid a steep price.
“What is the meaning of this?” Wymond called from above me as I caught my breath. “Answer me, Endymion!”
A fresh wave of adrenaline shot through me, and my eyes snapped open.
What I saw made no sense, and I shook my head against whatever trick my mind was playing on me, only, the sight remained. Ice-cold panic wrapped its knurled, bony fingers around my heart and squeezed as I stared at Endymion’s prone body, which mirrored mine.
Pained, dazed, midnight-blue eyes stared back at me before going wide with shock. He made to move but was grabbed by rough hands that swiftly disarmed him before forcing him to his knees before the High Lord.
Those same insidious inky ropes weaved around his commander’s lower half, then shot out from the ground and wrapped themselves like gloves around his hands before anchoring to the ground, pulling his arms taut.
“No,” I breathed, pressing myself up despite my body’s protestation.
Thaddeus barked a cruel laugh, pulling the High Lord’s attention away from the commander that knelt before him.
“What’s so funny?” Wymond spat.
“It appears, High Lord, that I’m not the only one to have ferreted out a traitor in my command.”
“While I agree with your assessment, King Thaddeus,” Wymond said in a measured tone, “there’s something more at play here.” He turned his gaze back to Endymion. “Isn’t there, Commander?”
The hard set of Endymion’s jaw sharpened as he ignored the question, looking straight ahead at nothing. Wymond took slow, measured steps as he looked down at his commander. After one rotation his head snapped in my direction with unbridled shock.
“Impossible,” he said under his breath. “Impossible.” I watched him closely as he shook his head, trying to comprehend whatever he thought he’d uncovered.
I shot a questioning gaze in Artton’s direction, grateful to find him holding himself upright and focused. He shook his head, looking as confused as me.
Then, Kaelun gasped, and my eyes darted to his.
The High Lord’s attention shifted to the summer fae. “You see it too.” It wasn’t a question.
Mouth agape, Kaelun offered one, slow nod as if in shock.
“See what?” I found myself asking.
Wymond’s barked laughter startled me enough that I jumped.
“Oh,” he said, leaning down closer to his commander. “It would appear I’m not the only one you’ve kept in the dark.”
Endymion’s focus found mine, and my stomach dropped.
“Kaelun, be a dear and join us,” Wymond said.
I jumped to my feet. “Leave him out of this.”
“No,” Wymond said, his magic grappling me down to my knees. “I think a demonstration is more fun. Don’t you, Commander.” Endymion’s title nothing more than a mocking purr.
Kaelun’s steps jerked awkwardly as he fought the magical bands forcing him forward like he was nothing more than a puppet on Wymond’s strings.
Looking pleased with himself once the young fae had joined them, he said, “Now, why don’t you be a good little pet and educate us on what you and I can both see.”
Kaelun looked at me like he was my executioner, and I braced myself, unsure I’d be able to take what came next.
“Please,” Kaelun pled to the High Lord, “she doesn’t deserve to find out this way.”
“In that, lad, I would agree. But since Endymion clearly had no intention of telling her, I leave the honor to you. Unless you’d prefer for me to explain.”
“No!” Endymion snapped, looking up at his High Lord for the first time since he’d collapsed. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m afraid that’s no longer an option, traitor. Me or Kaelun. Choose.”
Endymion looked to the summer fae imploringly as if asking him to break whatever it was to me with gentility.
The younger brother nodded.
“Kaelun,” he finally said.
“Very well. But not a word from you on the subject, understood?”
Endymion’s gaze turned murderous, but he nodded, and I didn’t miss the glint of satisfaction that lit Wymond’s features. This was all a fucken game to him, and we’d walked right onto his board.
Kaelun moved for me, only to realize he was pinned to the ground. Frazzled, he took a deep breath and focused on me. His earnest brown eyes filled with heartbreak, and I hated that it was him having to bear this burden.
“It’s okay, Kaelun,” I said, letting him know that I wouldn’t hold it against him—that it was okay to do as he was asked.
Swallowing, he nodded. “I’ve caught you rubbing here when you think no one is watching,” he said, bringing his palm to his sternum and rubbing it in a perfect imitation. “Why do you do that?”
“I…” I paused, thinking about how to describe it.
“It’s because it aches, isn’t it?” he asked.
My brows furrowed. “How could you possibly know that?”
Ignoring my question, he said, “What if I told you that you weren’t the only one that felt that pang?” Kaelun and I looked to Endymion, who held my focus as he dipped his chin in confirmation.
“You… you feel it too?” I breathed.
“He does,” Kaelun confirmed, “only, it’s more intense for the male counterpart until the threads are fully woven.”
I shook my head. “I… I don’t understand.”
Kaelun took another deep breath. “In truth, Lady Nyleeria, neither do I. Something like this just doesn’t exist anymore—if ever.”
“Something like what?” I said, my voice beginning to rise. “What are you talking about? And what in the seven hells does it have to do with Endymion?”
“He’s…”
“Your kintoran,” Endymion whispered.
I braced for Wymond to reprimand him, but judging by the delight on his face, he was enjoying the drama too much to object.
The churning emotions in Endymion’s eyes ensnared me so entirely that the rest of the world faded away.
“Kintoran?” I echoed, feeling the foreign word on my tongue.
He nodded. “And you are my kintora.”
“Kintora.” The word oddly comforting as I tested it out.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Kintor is a term the ancients used for two souls who have been sewn together by the threads of fate. Translated, it means soulkin or, in our current language, soulmate.”
“But… it’s not the same at all. Is it?” I asked, somehow already knowing his answer.
He shook his head. “No. Kintors are not chosen; they are fated. That hole in your chest, the one that’s ached since I left—it’s your soul crying out for its other half. For me. It’s not ephemeral like marriage. It’s eternal once fully woven, as Kaelun explained. An unbreakable bond.”
“And why don’t you tell her how long you’ve known she was your kintora?” Wymond interjected.
“Since the summer solstice,” I breathed, knowing the truth in my marrow. The High Lord looked at me in surprise, but I ignored him. “The things I knew about you…”
His features softened as if remembering that day. “Is my secret safe with you?” he said, echoing the playful taunt he’d teased me with that night.
My lips tugged up. “You mean that you’ve fallen for me in one dance?” I recited, finishing the exchange.
“No, Little Star,” he said, going off-script. “From the first moment I laid eyes upon you.”