Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
There’s a strange ache in my chest as I walk away from Jai, as if my heart is splintering and crumbling, the pieces tumbling through my body.
I knew it. I knew that giving in was a bad idea, but I couldn’t stop myself, could I? No, I had to go and kiss him, touch him, let him pleasure me.
It was like taking a sledgehammer to my own walls, destroying my own defenses while asking myself all the time if I was crazy.
Turns out I was.
Or rather, I am. Not a past tense, not when having his mouth between my legs only happened moments ago, when I still feel his gaze on my back, when I can still feel his lips and tongue on the most intimate parts of me, still burning from his mouth, his stubble, his attentions.
He’s a mystery, a puzzle with pieces missing, a chessboard with the pawns scattered.
What do I keep from what he told me tonight? What do I believe? About the king helping him, about the human victims, about fated mates…
The page boy catches up with me, and I let him lead the way, pressing my lips together, my arms at my sides, my thoughts controlled so I won’t look back.
I don’t want to see Jai standing there; I don’t want to know if he simply walked away. Neither option is helpful. Neither can save the wreck that is my heart.
The strange ache lingers. It feels as if it will never leave me, but of course it will. It’s a passing ailment, one I hadn’t even realized I’d caught, so certain I hated Jai that I didn’t notice myself falling for him.
Even now, it seems impossible that I’d feel so sharply the rejection of a man who is my enemy. Sure, he has kindness in him, and he offhandedly mentioned trying to kill the king, but if he wanted to… he’d have killed the king already. Right?
If he wanted to, he would already be fully on our side.
And yet, my chest feels too tight, restricting my breath. I know that no matter the excuses and the reasons, if he smiled, I’d have smiled back. If he’d opened his arms for me one more time, I’d have walked into them.
I’ve fallen for him. I’m that weak. When did it happen? How did it happen?
“Beware of beauty, little human lady.”
Too late for that.
I’m walking so fast the page boy has to almost run to stay ahead of me. “Please, my lady,” he says. “It’s up the stairs here. Slow down so you don’t trip over your dress.”
Sound advice.
Like the sound advice I’ve been giving myself for days, to no avail.
“Fate can’t be undone.”
Stones and Holy Wights. I have to stop thinking about his words before I embarrass myself by crying.
“Hurry up,” I mutter. “We can’t keep the king waiting.”
He casts me a disquieted look. “No, my lady, you’re right.”
Do I look frightening? I clap a hand against my gills, behind one ear. Have I changed in other ways? But no, I would have felt the magic flow, and the well of power inside me is still shuttered and still.
Reining in my impatience, I follow the page boy up a wide set of stairs, mildly curious about the number of staircases in this palace. They seem countless. More marble, more carvings and statues of Eosphors and dragons greet us at every turn.
So many Eosphors. Too many.
Before, I was sensing a pattern. Now, I’m sensing an obsession.
It’s one thing to gather the threads of rumors when it comes to the fae, their history and nature, their customs and beliefs, and quite another to be plunged into their reality, as it turns out. Who knew the king would want to be surrounded by creepy statues of the strange beings?
They are said to be partly made of metal, according to the legends, partly of precious gems and minerals. They don’t think like us. Don’t feel like us.
And Phaethon is one of them.
Higher we climb, until we reach a set of bronze doors. Two winged guards stand on either side, faces hidden behind gilded masks—because of the festival? Because they are more royal than other royal guards? Who knows?
The guards turn and push the heavy doors until they swing inward into a richly appointed hall.
The page boy bows and gestures for me to enter and follows me inside.
Space opens around us like a temple, with marble columns, statues, and narrow windows letting in the light of the phosphorescing Pillar. Lamps hang from the arched ceiling, chandeliers crafted from twisted white horns and black nightgold, inlaid with clear gems that refract the flames burning inside.
The audience hall.
A high dais stands at the end of the hallway formed by the columns, a black carpet—or marble path?—leading to it. Fae do like their high dais, just as they like their columns and winged statues.
True to form, behind the throne stands a pillar crafted like the royal crest: a serpentine dragon has been carved winding around it, the tall marble crown on its head a match for the crown sitting on the king’s golden head.
Because there he is, on the throne, though his hair looks more silver than gold as I approach—and yes, the path leading to the high dais is marble, hard and unforgiving under my shoes.
Everything about this place, about the fae and their world, seems that way. Hard. Unforgiving. Set up by rigid rules.
Silver hair threaded with gold, I think, as the page boy retreats and the guards shut the heavy doors. Changing with the light. Or with the day. His mood. Or his intentions.
I feel kind of dizzy.
“There has only been one woman for me.” Jai’s words echo in my mind. “Only one mate, and that’s fate.”
How can I fault him for holding onto a past love? Am I not doing the same? I loved a boy once, a young man with golden hair falling into gray eyes, and he lives inside my heart.
Holding that memory like a talisman against my chest, I walk up to the dais and drop into a curtsy in front of the fae king.
“Lady Rae,” he says.
“Your Majesty,” I breathe. “You asked to see me.”
The king’s head bows, pale brows rising. “You can speak. What a surprise.”
He doesn’t sound entirely surprised, though. My mouth tightens as I straighten from my curtsy. I have to remember my voice is back. I’m still startled every time I hear it.
“Magic.” He rises from his throne to tower over me. “I knew I felt magic on you. Hidden by a spell, was it? After all, without magic, how would you have found the royal apartments, or come so close to stabbing me? Each spellwork has a taste, salt for water, sweet for earth, smoky for fire, bitter for air, and I tasted yours.”
Hells. He can feel magic .
He walks toward me and stretches out his hand. “Walk with me.”
Letting out a controlled breath, I put my hand in his and let him lead me around the dais and the pillar standing behind it. We walk to another set of doors, these ones opening to the outside world.
We step over the threshold into another walled garden, a smaller one this time. Trees grow in concentric circles, with the same twisted trunks and the same grotesque faces in their bark.
“Why was there such a spell on you muting your voice?” he asks as we walk around the statue of a fae woman holding up a flower.
I swallow past a throat gone dry. “I crossed a sea nymph,” I murmur a half-truth, keeping my head down. “She took my voice.”
“A siren?” At my nod, he looks thoughtful. “I wish you’d tell me the truth, because I will get to it, sooner or later.”
I stiffen, and his hand tightens around mine, as if he’s sensed I’m about to bolt.
But bolt where? We’re in a walled garden, guards nearby, with this powerful king walking beside me, a king able to summon all kinds of magic.
As if hearing my thoughts, he lifts a hand, and a large rock slowly pushes out of the ground. I gasp, pulling away, but his grip is unmovable as he raises this large rock out of the earth. It settles with a groan, soil piling at its sides, worms and centipedes writhing around it.
He’s not done, though. He flicks his hand, and a rose plant climbs over the sides of the rock, weaving over it, growing taller until it forms a small bower.
The rose bush is still rustling and pushing out new shivering blooms as he leads us closer. The rock forms a bench, the roses the backrest.
“Let us sit,” he says as if he hasn’t just performed a major spell without breaking a sweat, a reminder of his vast elemental power, and I sink down on the hard surface without a word. A thorn pinches my arm, and I jerk.
“You can’t love the roses without their thorns,” he says, and it’s an echo of something deep inside my mind.
We sit in silence for a few heartbeats. He’s still holding my hand, though the grip has gentled.
How can I kill him? I’m still without my magic, without a blade, without a plan. The despair is eating me alive.
“He has been lying to you,” the king says, startling me. “Athdara is lying to you.”
“About what?”
“He does that with pretty girls. Seduces them. Talks sweet nothings in their ear. Did he try to get you into his room?”
My jaw clenches.
“Beware of Athdara,” the king continues softly. “He’s not who he seems.”
Bile rises in my throat at the reminder. I don’t want to think about the blow Jai’s words have dealt me. The memory of his handsome face won’t leave me, even as I gaze at the king sitting beside me.
Gazing at the king makes me nauseous, and it’s not because he is bad-looking, on the contrary… He’s handsome, his gray eyes shiny, his jaw firm, and his body strong, but the memory of Jai’s kiss is too recent, too bright.
Too raw and painful.
“He’s human,” I manage through a throat gone dry.
“Not in the sense you think it means. Not any more than we fae are human. He’s from my world. He fell through, as we did, but his purpose is much more sinister.”
“What? No.” He’s from the world of the fae? I feel sick to my stomach. That can’t be true. “Not human? What purpose? What do you mean?”
“He’s here, waiting. Biding his time.”
“Biding his time for what?”
“Destruction.”
A laugh escapes me. I shake my head. “I don’t believe it.”
“If you think him nice, then your capacity for judgment is lacking. Do you want to know what he has done to your kind?”
“My kind?”
“Humankind.” He studies me intently. “Aren’t you human?”
I fight a flinch. “Look, he’s human, despite his magic. I’ve seen him.” Talked to him, touched him, heard him. Kissed him. Let him in close, closer than anyone else, ever. “He’s not some sinister monster.”
“He’s a doomed man… and he knows it.”
“Doomed?” I’m faltering, losing direction. I can hardly follow the information being lobbed at me tonight.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t realized.” The king’s mouth purses. “He carries an Eosphor inside him, a creature of old, able to summon all dragons to his bidding, able to open portals into other worlds. He has the makings of a dragon king. Only, that is a creature of legends, and Jaien will go insane long before he reaches that potential. I saw the potential in him and brought him to live with me, but now he’s only holding onto his sanity thanks to my help. I draw out the darkness from him before it consumes him, but he may not survive this. He needs to come into his full power as soon as possible.”
“The king is helping me.” Jai had said that. That’s why he can’t kill the king. He depends on him for his sanity. And Phaethon won’t let him because, for some reason, he needs the king, too.
Pieces are falling into place.
“You need a dragon king for your plans,” I whisper. “To open the gates and invade the next world. And Phaethon wants the same.”
The king gives me a long look. “Close. You see, we don’t want to invade the next world. We want to cross into the previous one.” He nods, as if to himself. “We want to go back home.”