Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Aurelia
By the time the old hunting trail bent toward the foothills of Midnight territory, my entire body felt like it had been scraped hollow and stuffed with gravel.
Four days of walking through the darkest hours of the night.
Four days of hiding in bramble thickets during the day, buried under leaves so no Obsidian patrol would spot us.
Four days of eating sun-dried rabbit and foraging for berries.
Four days of Callan muttering complaints under his breath and Rydian pretending not to hear them.
And four days of… this thing simmering between Rydian and me.
A pull.
A magnet.
A hunger I refused to acknowledge out loud—but which deepened every time he looked at me with that new, shadow-drenched intensity.
We were nearly at the cabin when Callan tripped for the eighth time.
He caught himself on a tree and hissed, “Gods, I’m going to shatter my ankle before Heliconia ever finds us.”
“A worthy sacrifice,” Rydian said dryly from behind me.
“Stop, both of you,” I muttered. “We’re close.”
Callan glanced up sharply. “You’re sure?”
I lifted a hand toward the faint shimmer in the air ahead—barely visible between the trees. A subtle ripple. A whisper of magic. I recognized it now for what it was: protection wards.
My pulse sped at the thought of seeing Lesha. Or taking a hot bath.
“Positive.”
Callan straightened, combing leaves out of his hair as if he still cared what he looked like. “Well. Finally. We’ll have food. And beds. Or gods forbid, hot water.”
“I’ll put in a good word with the master of the house,” Rydian drawled.
We stepped through the shimmer and into the clearing.
And there it was.
Dark wood notched at the seams. Sloped roof. Smoke curling faintly from the chimney. A ring of protection stones half-buried beneath moss. A warding field humming like a heartbeat around it.
Frithhold.
For a strange moment, it felt almost like coming home.
The front door burst open.
Keres stood framed in the threshold, eyes wide. She wore a tunic and loose slacks, and her hair had been left in a long braid down her back. She looked more at ease than I’d ever seen.
“They’re home,” she called over her shoulder, her voice cracking.
Then Vanya peered around her. “Aurelia, Rydian,” she called, smiling. Then she spotted Callan, gasped, and promptly dropped into a curtsy so deep her forehead nearly hit the floor.
“Your High—High—Highness,” she stammered.
Behind her, Daegel leaned against a support beam, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “Took you long enough.”
I walked straight to Keres and threw my arms around her. She held me tight, her usual sharp sarcasm absent for once.
“It’s good to see you,” she whispered.
“And you,” I whispered back, voice breaking.
Rydian stepped in behind me, and the air shifted again.
Shadow. Strength. Presence.
Keres looked over my shoulder and exhaled. “Glad to see you’re not dead.”
He inclined his head. “Not for lack of trying.”
Callan cleared his throat pointedly.
“Your Majesty.” Keres’ voice was full of sarcasm. “What a surprise. Wish I could say it was pleasant.” She shot me a pointed look full of questions.
“Callan’s going to stay with us for a while,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed. First on me, then on Rydian, and finally on Callan. “Couldn’t we just get a puppy and be done with it?” she asked.
Callan looked offended.
Rydian snorted a laugh.
“Vanya,” I said, “can you show Callan to a room?”
“Of course.” She led the way into the house.
We all followed, the rest of us gathering in the great room while Callan disappeared down the hall with Vanya leading the way.
I turned to Daegel. “How’s Lesha?”
His expression sobered instantly. “She’s awake. Barely. But she asked for you.”
My heart clenched. I followed him through the den and into the back room.
Lesha lay on her stomach, thin as reeds, wings nothing but bandaged scars. Her hair was matted. Her skin too pale. I didn’t know what I’d expected. More healing than this; she looked just as frail as the day we’d rescued her.
“Auri,” she whispered, voice rasping, breaking.
I dropped to my knees beside her bed and took her hand. “I’m here.”
Her fingers squeezed weakly. “Good.”
I bit my lip hard, trying not to cry. “How do you feel?”
“Like I lost a fight with a frost giant,” she murmured.
A painful laugh burst from my chest.
“And you…” Her gaze softened. “You look different.”
I froze. “Different how?”
“Stronger. Older.” Her eyes flicked to my mark. “Brighter.”
My throat tightened. I wanted to tell her everything—but she was already fading, her eyes closing as she slipped toward sleep.
“I’ll stay,” I whispered.
“No.” Keres stepped forward, voice firm but soft. “Let her rest. She used too much strength today during our exercises. She’ll sleep for hours.”
Lesha’s fingers went slack in mine.
I pressed a kiss to her knuckles before I stood.
Keres placed a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. You need sleep too.”
“I’m fine,” I said, waving off her concern.
“Really?” Her brow lifted. “Because you look like Hel.”
“I missed your brutal honesty, you know that?”
She laughed. “You missed Thorne’s home cooking, you mean.”
“Are they back yet?” I asked.
“Here and gone a day ago,” she said quietly. “They told us what happened in Grey Oak.”
“The Withered made it back to the caves then?”
She nodded. “Along with the contingent they recruited.”
I exhaled. “How many?”
“Not enough,” she admitted regretfully. I’d known it wouldn’t be. “But a start. Now, come on. I’ll give you all the details later. You look asleep on your feet.”
“I think Vanya gave my old room to Callan,” I said, stifling a yawn. “But I don’t mind the floor.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Rydian said, stepping into our path.
My heart stuttered.
Keres arched a brow at him. “And where exactly do you suggest she sleep?”
Rydian’s eyes met mine. “With me.”
My breath caught. Heat curled low in my stomach.
Keres’s brows shot up to her hairline. Daegel choked on his own spit behind us. From behind my old bedroom door came a faint, muffled, “Of course she does,” from Callan, because apparently the gods hated me enough to give him perfect hearing.
I swallowed. “Rydian—”
He stepped toward me. Even tired, filthy, and half feral from sleepless travel, he looked like a nightmare carved into the shape of a male. A very handsome, very tempting male whose attention bordered on obsession just now.
Suddenly, Keres was gone, and we were standing alone in the hallway.
“Aurelia,” he murmured in a voice that sent a shudder of pleasure through me, “Come to bed.”
The way he said it, the question brimming in his depthless eyes—it felt like he was asking for so much more than one night. And I was more than willing to grant it.
Rydian extended his hand.
I took it.
The decision settled between us like gravity—inevitable, certain, ancient.
“Come,” he said softly. “Sleep. Before your legs give out.”
He tugged me toward the door to his room.
My pulse thundered as we reached it.
Inside, the room was dimly lit. Clean. Familiar in a way that made something in my chest ache. A heavy bed. A small table. A single candle flickering.
I stepped inside.
Rydian closed the door behind us with a soft click.
Shadows curled around his feet as he leaned back against it—watching me in a way that made every inch of my skin feel too tight.
And then he said, voice like velvet dragged over stone, “Come here, Furious.”
My breath hitched.
And I did.