Chapter 20
To my surprise, I find the fae king at the table.
I pause at the bottom of the stairwell that opens to the dining hall, staring at the scene before me.
Silver platters catch the light. Laughter echoes. Wine splashes into glasses while silks and velvets glimmer, but my eyes instinctively pass over it all, landing on Amriel.
Good goddess. The first time I stood here, I couldn’t help but marvel at the leafy canopy above, the pink and green light, the massive table somehow carved from a single piece of wood. Then, the fae king who presided over it all scandalized me so deeply I could barely stand to look at him.
Now? I can’t seem to look at anything else.
He sprawls in his chair at the head of the table, his long legs spread, his chin propped on a fist as he stares down at the orb in his hand.
The same orb that must connect to my bracelet, because he glares at it, unrelenting, as if contemplating how best to punish an inanimate object for not complying with his wishes.
His fae companions chatter around him, but he ignores their overtures, not even engaged enough to lift his head when someone calls his name.
I watch, my heartbeat thickening to a ravenous thud between my ribs. Tingles race down my spine and gather somewhere south of my navel.
Ishanna help me, this man. This infuriating, reckless, beautiful man. One look at him—at his single-minded focus—and my anger bleeds away, carving out room for some new sensation at my core. It hums and expands, twining along every nerve, throbbing through my entire body.
Someone spots me, and a hush ripples along the table. Chairs scrape as one fae rises, then another. Another. The room falls silent, everyone finding their feet, countless pairs of eyes trained on me.
Everyone but Amriel. He doesn’t glance up, too absorbed in staring at his orb.
But my scent must reach him, because he tenses suddenly, the lines of his body snapping to attention.
His head whips around, his gaze connecting with mine.
Something ignites behind his eyes. The impact rolls through me, burning away the oxygen between us.
I’m left with nothing to breathe, nothing to sustain myself, nothing to shield me from his intensity.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t stand in welcome, like the others. Just lets that fiery look drill into me while his arm falls to his side and his mouth twitches at one corner.
“Sariah,” someone says.
With effort, I tear my gaze away and find Ravenna pulling out a chair.
She shoos away some unfortunate fae man, making loud proclamations about how I should have a place beside her.
I approach, every step driving an ache into the soles of my feet.
Somehow, I manage to keep from glancing at Amriel again, but his attention follows me, a heavy awareness that trails across my skin.
“Come here,” Ravenna says. “Sit with me. You must be exhausted.”
Someone piles food onto a platter. A different fae woman fills a goblet with water. Both plate and glass end up in my hands before I even reach the table.
When I do, I pause, unsure what to make of this reception, so different than my last. The fae survey me with rounded eyes, even Ravenna, and while I know what I must look like, wearing these scanty leather clothes, caked in dirt, smeared with two different kinds of blood, that isn’t disgust that fills their stares.
It’s…respect. Maybe even a touch of awe.
It’s the same look my sisters get when they enter a room. When Aethrolians witness Vandenore magic.
I’ve just…never been on the receiving end before.
I toss my plate onto the table, the clatter echoing though the high-ceilinged room. I don’t wait for it to settle before draining my water goblet, my throat working as I fill my stomach with sweet, sweet cold.
Goddess, nothing has ever tasted so delicious. I shake every last drop into my mouth, then collapse into my seat. Ravenna sits, too. She ventures a timid smile, and when I smile back, tips forward to pull me into a hug.
I blink through my surprise, even as my arms come up to fold around her. She doesn’t seem to care what a mess I am. She just hugs me tight while something light and liquid blooms in the base of my throat.
Huh. I…missed her. Against all odds, I missed her.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she says, loud enough that everyone must hear.
Chairs scrape as the fae find their seats again.
By the time Ravenna and I separate, conversation has resumed.
Conversation that apparently revolves around me, because the fae break into an excited discussion about the labyrinth, my trials, how I've managed to survive for so long and get so close to the end.
Once I recover my bearings, I answer all their questions. Or try to. I can’t stop stealing glances down the table. Amriel’s focus never relents, his gaze so penetrating it strips a few layers off my soul.
Each of my inhales comes quicker than the last, until I’m somehow panting, despite sitting still.
I make every attempt to hide it, to smooth out each word, but when the questions keep coming, my voice starts to wobble.
Amriel leans back, watching me with half-hooded eyes, his mouth curled into its habitual smirk, his forefinger tracing the rim of his wine glass.
As if he knows. As if he can see straight into me, peel away every last defense and stare into the thing smoldering at my core, the flame that sparks higher every time I catch him looking.
The fae chatter amongst themselves, peppering me with commentary, asking about the particulars of the labyrinth. They seem to have collectively decided I’ll survive to break the curse, and I don’t spoil their enthusiasm.
I simply accept it. I might even bask a little, especially since they laughed at me, last time I sat here.
Which maybe I should hold against them, but when I consider the girl who came to dinner in her high-necked dress, who picked at a single roll of bread and steadfastly refused to make eye contact, it almost feels as if someone else sat here, that night.
Someone who hadn’t yet pressed every inch of herself against the fae king, sucked his tongue into her mouth and wished for more. Someone who hadn’t straddled his Shadow’s lap and felt raw longing surge beneath her fingertips.
Someone who hadn’t stared into death’s abyss and been yanked back from the brink, again and again, by the mate who refuses to let her fall.
“Sariah,” says a man across the table. His name is Varian, I think, and he leans his elbows on the wood, his eyes dancing. “So will you stay, then? When you finish the maze?”
I swallow the tender bite of meat I’m savoring and set down my fork. I don’t know that I can finish the labyrinth, at this point—using my gyre will only return me to where I left off, a scant foot above a lake of bubbling acid.
But I’ve outwitted the maze before. Maybe I can do it again, given enough time to think.
“I don’t know,” I venture. Words well up, as honest as they are raw. “I guess I won’t know unless…” I swallow again. “…Until I face those doors at the end.”
“Oh, come on.” A baritone voice to my right, and I glance over to find Calen regarding me with a smile. He sits on the other side of Ravenna, his arm slung around her shoulders. She leans into him, her fingertips dancing along the inside of his thigh.
“There must be something that has the power to keep you in Velindra.” He winks. “Something you’d miss if you left.”
“Well…” I hesitate. “There’s one thing, actually. Something I’m not sure I can live without.”
“Oh?” he prompts, a laugh in his voice. “And what’s that?”
I buy myself time by taking a bite of roasted potato. Rosemary and butter swirl across my tongue, but even the delectable flavors can’t keep me from stealing a glance at Amriel. His expression turns smug, knowledge glittering in his eyes.
“I’ll miss…” I force the words from a too-tight throat. “…My bathtub.”
The table erupts into laughter. Amriel’s eyes slit, which somehow pulls a shiver from my bones. It’s a promise, that look. Maybe even a threat. One that makes the muscles in my belly coil tight.
Thankfully, Ravenna interjects, breaking Amriel’s hold on me.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” she says. “All day, I wonder where you are, what you’re doing, if you’re okay…”
The conversation moves on. The fae finish their food and push their platters aside. Someone arrives to clear the dishes from the table.
I can hardly stand to let mine go. I lick my fork clean, then my knife, and finally relinquish everything with reluctance, despite having eaten my fill.
I’ve enjoyed this meal more than any in my life, but still, an ever-widening ache throbs in my belly, one I can’t seem to reach, much less satisfy.
I flick another glance at Amriel, who rakes his gaze over me in a smoldering perusal.
Good goddess. It’s like I’m drowning in plain sight. Being sucked into the undertow of those relentless yellow eyes.
Ravenna chatters on, but the atmosphere around the table slowly shifts. Calen’s fingers drift down around her shoulder, slipping beneath the scrap of silk that covers her breast, his fingers rolling around her nipple.
Just like that. As casual as can be.
She trails off, aiming a light slap against the inside of her mate’s thigh. But I can tell she doesn’t really mean it, because her eyes have gone glassy. Something simmers in their depths, something uncomfortably familiar.
“We can go back to our room for dessert,” she says breathily, “if you want. I’m sure you’ve had a long day, and don’t need—”
“It’s fine,” I say, surprised at how easily the words come. “I mean, I’m in your dining room. If I have a problem, I should be the one to leave.”
She does a slow blink, her expression slackening. Whether because of my answer, or the fact that Calen’s other hand has found its way under her dress to trace slow circles between her legs, who can say.