Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rydian
Night settled over the Withered camp like a slow bruise.
The air was colder here than it should have been, even this far north, thin with frost and laced with a magic that was all wrong for the autumn kingdom.
Beyond the trees, the river whispered as the current ran—a sound I was beginning to hate after our visit with Patamoi.
Or maybe it wasn’t the river’s whispers but the voices in my own head that tortured me now.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her standing before me, flames burning beneath her skin like defiance given form. And every time she looked at me, there was a question in her eyes that I was terrified of having to answer.
I sat alone by the dying fire, Callan’s map unrolled across my knees. My mind should have been on strategy—on Heliconia’s army, on the tunnels Eirnan promised would get us into the Concordian war camp—but every thought circled back to Aurelia.
To the way she’d disappeared inside Callan’s tent. To the private moments they’d shared. To the moment she said she didn’t know if he’d accept Heliconia’s offer.
Would she care if Callan married another?
The thought made something inside me snap taut, irrational and sharp. I told myself it was worry. It wasn’t.
By the time I realized I’d stood, my feet were already moving.
The camp was quiet, the Withered sleeping in tents pitched in uneven rows. Their campfires were nothing but embers now, a symbol of the powerful fae they’d once been. I moved through them like a ghost, following the tug in my chest I’d long since stopped pretending to understand.
I found her at the edge of the clearing. She stood on a rise above the camp, the wind teasing strands of her hair free of its braid. The moonlight turned her into something almost divine—half sunlit honey, half frost, all untouchable.
“You should be asleep,” she said without turning.
“So should you,” I answered.
Her shoulders tensed, then eased. “You’re restless to get moving again too.”
“Something like that.”
Silence stretched between us, filled with the soft creak of branches and the faint hum of her power beneath her skin. I could feel it even from here—warmth against the cold, life against the ruin of this place.
She finally looked at me. “What is it?”
“Callan.”
Her expression shuttered. “What about him?”
“He asked you to marry him again.” It wasn’t a question.
She didn’t bother denying it. “He did.”
“And what did you say?”
Her brow rose. “What do you think I said?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “You have a tendency to surprise me.”
“I said no.”
Relief, bright and foolish, flashed through me before I could stop it. I masked it with a low sound that might have been a laugh. “Good.”
Her brow arched. “Good? Is that all?”
“He doesn’t deserve you.”
“And you do?”
The directness in her gaze squeezed my chest. She was daring me to declare myself.
“Not me,” I said, stepping closer despite my words. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting you.”
Her breath caught. The space between us felt suddenly fragile. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”
I could have kissed her then. I wanted to. Every inch of restraint I’d built around myself cracked under the weight of wanting to. Her eyes searched mine, daring me, pleading, burning.
I gave in.
Her mouth met mine, and the world stopped.
Fire and shadow collided, the kind of kiss that rewrote every oath I’d ever sworn.
Her fingers found the collar of my jacket, gripping like she meant to anchor herself to me.
On her lips, I tasted flame and sunshine and everything I wasn’t supposed to want.
When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard. The night felt different now—alive, trembling.
“Rydian,” she whispered, and I knew what she was asking. Knew it and hated myself for the answer.
I touched my forehead to hers, eyes closing. “I can’t.”
Her hands tightened. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not a match for you.”
She drew back enough to look at me. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. The courts—”
“It’s not about them,” I said. “It’s about me. About what I am meant for.”
Her eyes softened, confusion threading through the hurt. “You think being the Midnight heir makes you somehow unworthy?”
I blinked, stunned.
Her mouth curved. “Your secrets are unraveling faster than you think, Your Highness.”
“When did you know?”
“I suspected at the cabin, but our visit Beneath confirmed it. Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“You’d rather the realm believes you’re a second-born prince of Autumn than the heir to the Onyx Throne. I expect your reasons must be complicated, if not well thought out, to choose to hide. Something you once accused me of doing, if you remember.”
“The Midnight fae have lived one purpose these last years, and that is to wait and fight for the Chosen One.”
“And your crown? What is the purpose of hiding that?”
“Duron would have killed me had he even the slightest inkling.”
Her brows lifted. “You mean he didn’t know?”
“And neither does Callan,” I said.
She stared at me, eyes wide. “To protect your people,” she murmured.
I nodded. “And to protect you.” At her furrowed brow, I went on, “The oath I swore to fight at your side came before anything else, even my own title or crown. If I’d been found out and killed or imprisoned for it, I would have failed you before we’d even begun.”
“And now? Here we are. Fighting together. Allies. Friends. And something more?”
I shook my head. “Nothing more than that. For your own sake.”
“After everything, you refuse to let me decide what’s best for me.”
I swallowed hard. “Your father already did.”
She blinked. “My father—?”
“I promised him,” I said quietly. “The night I took the oath.”
“Wait. You took the oath from my father? From Ire himself?”
“Yes.”
“I thought— All this time, I just assumed it was a figurative oath. One passed down from your queen.” Her eyes widened. “Your mother, I guess,” she murmured as if realization had dawned. She shook it off. “But you saw him. Spoke to him.”
“Bled for him,” I added quietly.
She stared at me.
I swallowed hard, forcing the words out before I could think better of it. “I swore that, when the time came, as he had foreseen that it would, I would die for you.”
The color drained from her face. “No.”
“I was meant to be your shield, Aurelia. Not your equal. Not your choice. It’s why I was gifted this power. Why my people were preserved, protected. Set aside for the time you would need us all. Your father saw it and made provisions so that you might live.”
She shook her head, stepping back. “You can’t mean that. That’s not fate—that’s madness.”
“Before we met, I might have agreed. But now… it will be my honor to trade my life for yours should the Fates demand it.”
Her voice broke. “And what if I refuse to let you?”
“You are becoming more powerful than any fae to walk Menryth in a thousand years,” I said, unable to quell the sadness in my soul. “But even you cannot stop Fate’s wheel from turning.”
I watched as she fought for control, refusing to accept what I’d told her.
“Do you remember that Obsidian, the one in that farmhouse in the Broadlands? He said Heliconia sees what she fears most. The prince and I united—to her destruction. I thought it was Callan, but…”
I didn’t respond.
“You knew it wasn’t him,” she finished.
“I thought, if you found a way to unite with Callan, the worst might be avoided,” I admitted.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for you, wondering if and when the time will come. I’m sorry—for my parents’ mess becoming your problem, for my father—for Ire—asking this of you.”
“Do not apologize. I can never regret knowing you.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears that she refused to let fall. “A spoiled brat, like me? You sure?” she teased. “And you’re willing to fight beside me anyway?”
“I’ll fight for you,” I said, voice rough. “I’ll be your blade, Aurelia. Point me where you need me. Wield me against every enemy that stands in your path. Until my last breath.”
Her eyes shone, fury and grief warring in them. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I don’t want your death, Rydian. I only want your love.”
“I refuse to hurt you by giving you both.”
Silence. The kind that hurt like an arrow in the chest.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw, memorizing the shape of her. “You were born to end a war. I was born to end with you. For me, it will be enough.”
And before she could speak, before she could make me refuse her again, I kissed her once more—soft this time, final—and turned away.
Her voice followed me, quiet and breaking. “Rydian—”
But I didn’t look back.
The shadows welcomed me like an old friend, like I knew they would in the end.