Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Rydian
Abiting wind whipped across the ridgeline where I stood, stirring the frost and bringing the scent of pine resin and woodsmoke. Beneath it, I could still scent her—embers and sunlight and fury barely contained.
She had asked me to let her open the gates.
And I had told her no.
Not because I thought her weak. She’d proven the power she possessed the night she’d rendered Duron to dust. I told her no because I knew the ancient, otherworldly magic that slept inside those gates would devour her whole.
And because some part of me—coward or lover, I couldn’t tell which—would rather damn the realm than risk anything hurting that woman.
The bruise beneath my eye pulsed in rhythm with my thoughts, a dull reminder of the king who’d given it to me and the woman we’d both lost in the same night.
It should have healed by now, which meant Callan had used magic to make sure it lingered.
As punishment. For me or for Aurelia, I wasn’t sure. Or maybe just for sport.
Below the ledge where I stood, the Trolech Forest spread like an ocean of wet ink.
Down in the valley, the wall that encircled my kingdom gleamed faintly—dark stone and silver wards that caught the moonlight and reflected like scales.
The Midnight Court slumbered beneath that shimmer; my mother locked inside its powerful ring of protection.
A protection that hadn’t always been there for her. Back when I’d taken the blood oath to Duron, the gates had been wide open. And she’d been exposed. Vulnerable. With only me standing between them.
Now, at least, she was safe, even if she was being stubborn about using her gifts to visit this side of the wall. To meet Aurelia.
When I finally went back inside, the air shifted—from knife-edge cold to the heavy warmth of fire and pine smoke. The hearth burned low, its light catching on the walls and weapons, the steel edges gleaming like teeth.
Amanti sat near the flames, her injured arm tucked into a sling, her right wing spread wide to catch the heat.
The left one trembled faintly where it lay tucked against her back, the torn membranes glinting with scar tissue that crisscrossed Keres dark sutures.
The others were nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean they weren’t listening.
Busybodies, the lot of them.
Daegel especially, though surprisingly, it had been Thorne who seemed most amused by Aurelia’s ire aimed at me.
Amanti didn’t look at me when she spoke. “You told her.”
I leaned against the doorframe, dragging a hand through my hair. “She deserved the truth.”
“She deserved it long before tonight.” Her tone wasn’t cruel, just tired. “But I suppose late is better than never.”
“She wants to open the gates.” I crossed the room, the floorboards creaking under my boots. “She thinks it’s the only way to reach Lesha.”
“And you told her no.”
I sank into the chair opposite hers. “I told her what would happen if she tried.”
Amanti shifted, and the firelight revealed the hollow beneath her cheekbones. “You’re afraid.”
“Yes,” I said. “But not for me.
If my aunt was surprised by the admission, she didn’t show it. But I knew she missed nothing, which meant she’d already likely guessed there was more between Aurelia and me than there should be.
She adjusted the sling, her gaze never leaving the fire. “Your mother is afraid too.”
“Don’t,” I said, shaking my head at what already felt like a fight.
“Cadira doesn’t want to lose you to this, Rydian. She believes you can find another way.”
I exhaled hard through my nose. “That doesn’t make me forgive her for snubbing Aurelia.”
Amanti turned her head then, meeting my eyes. Her gaze was sharp enough to cut. “No. It makes you her heir.”
“What if I don’t want to be the heir?” I asked, exhaustion lining every word. “You’re her sister. You have just as much a claim as I do.”
“You know I gave up all claim when I became one of the Aine,” she said.
“The Fates are gone, and so is your magic. You’re not Aine anymore,” I said and then immediately regretted it.
Amanti flinched. Her mouth flattened. “The Midnight crown is yours, Rydian. Whether you wear it or not. That’s how it’s always been meant.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, guilt pressing my shoulders down. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I am Aine,” she said quietly. “Until the Fates take my breath from my body.”
“You are. And I am the heir,” I said, shoving the words out.
“As much as it pains you,” she added quietly.
My fingers tightened against the armrest. I stared into the flames until they blurred, taking on the shape of the former Midnight queen.
My aunt Winyra, third sister to Amanti and my mother.
She had been a formidable and wise ruler who cared deeply about all fae.
Until she was killed nine years ago and the weight of the crown had fallen to my mother. For now.
“And when Aurelia finds out what I am?” I asked.
“That depends,” she said, “on whether you tell her, or she learns it when her army of Midnight fae answers not just to her, their Chosen, but also to you, their future king.”
The hearth crackled, resin burning sweet and sharp. Somewhere outside, a nightbird cried once and fell silent.
The door opened, and cold rushed in, curling through the room like smoke. Slade stepped over the threshold, his cloak heavy with frost. His gloves were still damp from snow; his dark hair stuck to his brow.
“Any news?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Likely be a day or two before they make contact.”
“Where’s Daegel?” I asked, “And the others?”
It was too damn quiet in here, considering Amanti’s words. Usually, the others would have popped up by now to stick their noses in my business. Especially when it came to my crown.
“They went to do a perimeter check.” He removed his cloak and slung it over his arm. Snow fell, dotting the floor in wet drops.
“You mean they’re waiting until the worst has passed,” I said. “In case Aurelia and I killed each other or burnt the house down trying.”
“We didn’t think you’d kill her,” he said mildly.
I huffed a laugh at that.
But his humor faded quickly. “Are we going then?”
“Where?”
He shrugged. “Wherever she’s decided.”
“We’re not going anywhere, and neither is she. Not until we come up with a plan.”
He shook his head and turned for the hall where he kept a bedroom here.
“What?” I demanded. “You have something to say; spit it out.”
“She’ll go,” Slade said. “You know she will. You can’t keep her from it.”
“I can delay her,” I said. “Long enough to come up with a plan to keep her from doing something stupid.”
Slade gave a short, humorless laugh. “You? Delay Aurelia of Sunspire? I’ll fetch a shovel now for when she buries you in the yard on her way down the mountain.”
“She’s the Chosen One,” I said with a scowl. “If she falls into Heliconia’s grasp…”
Amanti finished for me. “Then the gates will open at Heliconia’s command.”
The fire popped, sending sparks skittering across the hearth. For a moment, none of us spoke.
Amanti rose slowly from her chair. Her wings dragged faintly across the stone, the sound like paper tearing. “She’ll ask again,” she said. “To show her how to open them. And if you refuse, even if it kills her, she’ll try on her own. For Lesha.”
“I know,” I said.
Slade’s gaze lingered on me. “You’ll have to tell her soon,” he said. “About what you are.”
I didn’t look at him. “I know.”
He studied me for a beat longer, then turned and left, the door closing on another gust of cold.
Amanti remained by the fire. “She’ll hate you if you keep this from her.”
“She already does.”
Amanti’s gaze softened, her voice a whisper against the crackling wood. “And still, you’d die for her.”
“Not for her,” I lied. “For what she’ll become.”
Amanti stared silently into the fire.
Finally, she turned away, headed for her room.
The fire hissed as sap burst in the logs. Shadows climbed the walls like a tide rising. I stared into them and saw the shape of the city below—the dark towers, the silver gates, the pulse of the vow that would one day wake them all.