Chapter 19 Love and Other Lies
LOVE AND OTHER LIES
Two days since the dungeon.
Two days of forcing myself up at dawn, memorizing guard changes while trying to forget the sound of tearing flesh.
I hadn’t seen Kairos since. He was avoiding me, or he was deciding what to do with the runebreaker he’d claimed.
Though he’d sent a dressmaker with bolts of silk.
New gowns appeared in my wardrobe—emerald green, midnight blue, colors I’d never worn in Skalgard.
Yesterday, a jeweled comb. This morning, a velvet box of perfumed oils arrived on my desk.
Thessia delivered meals on silver platters: roasted quail, honeyed figs, wine.
Whenever Thessia came by, I asked questions. Casual ones. How many warriors? Where did the supplies come from? When did the council meet? I’d learned the kitchen entrance had the fewest guards. The library was unprotected.
A tap at the window made me freeze. A hawk perched on the sill, parchment tied to its leg. Its yellow beak clinked against the glass.
My heart kicked as I rushed over and unlatched the window, my fingers clumsy. The bird didn’t flinch as I slid the note free.
Aelie,
You have the right to ignore this. After what happened, I wouldn’t blame you if you burn this letter without reading it. But I’m writing anyway, because you deserve the truth—even if it’s too late.
That night in Skalgard, I tried to save you. I know you may not believe me, but there were forces at work beyond either of us. I fought for you, but I failed you when it mattered most. That failure haunts me every waking moment.
I need you to understand something: you were never a distraction to me. You were everything. The only light in a world that’s been dark for so long. Those nights we spent together were the only times I felt truly alive.
I think about you constantly. About what we had. What we could still have, if you’ll let me make this right.
I love you, Aelie. I always have. And I will prove it to you—I’ll bring you home and give you the life you deserve.
But you must be careful. Kairos is more dangerous than you realize. Don’t trust him.
Wait for me. I’m coming for you.
Yours,
Vaeris
The letter trembled in my hands.
I love you.
Words I’d once longed to hear sat on the page lifelessly. Where was this love when I knelt on an execution block? Where was it when Kairos dragged me from my cell?
He hadn’t even mentioned Rheya. The only family I had left, and he couldn’t spare her a single line. Just I love you and I’m coming for you and nothing about the promise he’d made to help me find her.
But why would he mention her? Both of these males saw me as a tool first, a person second.
Kairos, at least, was honest about it. He’d keep me here, safe in this gilded cage, until he figured out what runes he needed broken. And I’d sit here, comfortable, while Rheya was gods knew where.
I re-read the letter, searching for something real beneath the pretty phrases. You were never a distraction. Then what was I? A secret he kept hidden. A relationship he refused to claim. Someone he loved, but not enough to defy his father for.
I tried to imagine forgiving him. I pictured the moment he swept me in his arms and said all the right things, but I felt no heartbreak. Just a strange, hollow calm.
Some betrayals couldn’t be undone. That was the lesson—not that Vaeris was weak, but that I’d been a fool to trust that he’d risk his position for love. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I folded the letter and shoved it in the back of a drawer. Then I yanked on the bell cord, the chime echoing down the corridor. Thessia appeared minutes later, concern creasing her face.
“Mistress?” she said softly. “Oh my, you don’t look well.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, blinking through the lightheadedness. “Just a little dizzy. Can you take me to the library?”
She hesitated. “You won’t try to run, will you?”
I smiled at her. “I won’t. Promise.”
Thessia pushed open a set of massive double doors. We passed through an antechamber, where I stared at a mural of a stunning fae bride standing between two thrones—one crowned in sunlight, the other in ice.
“Who is she?” I asked.
She tensed. “A princess who was supposed to unite two realms.”
“Which ones?”
She was quiet for a long moment. “It doesn’t matter now.”
I looked at the painting again, a beautiful bridge between worlds that was never crossed. Then I followed her into the library, gasping.
Rows upon rows of shelves. Light filtered through high windows, dust motes dancing in the beams like the ones that floated through the attic. Rheya would try to catch them in her palms.
Thessia waved an arm. “Our clan’s archive.”
“No guards?”
Thessia raised a brow. “Why would there be?”
“Back home, only clerics enter the library. Books on rune magic are forbidden. Locked away from everyone except nobility.”
“Skaldir hoards knowledge. We don’t do that here. Information serves the realm, not whoever sits on the throne.” Her eyes found mine. “Some things are restricted, obviously. But we don’t lock the doors.”
“So anyone can just…walk in?”
Thessia shrugged. “An educated realm is a stronger one. Though, tell that to the archivist—he treats every book like his firstborn.”
A soft cough made me turn.
A dark-skinned fae watched me from across the library, silver threading through his black hair. Earthy green robes draped his slender frame. His deep-set eyes flicked from me to Thessia.
Thessia brightened. “Aelie, this is Lioren. Our head archivist.”
He frowned. “What’s a human doing in my library?”
“She’s the king’s guest.” Thessia’s tone stayed cheerful. “She’ll be staying with us.”
Lioren’s gaze shifted to her. “Wonderful.”
Thessia patted his shoulder, heading for the door. “Try not to bite her.”
The door groaned shut behind her, leaving me alone with the archivist.
Lioren exhaled through his nose. “Rule one, don’t take books outside. You read here. When you’re done, put them back.”
I nodded.
“Two, if a book hums, pulses, or makes you feel like you’re about to vomit, close it and walk away. No exceptions.”
“Got it.”
“Three, don’t touch anything in the restricted section.” His eyes sharpened. “The runes won’t kill you, but they’ll make you wish they had.”
I swallowed. “Fine.”
He strode to a lectern with a smooth stone carved with a rune. “Speak the subject you’re looking for, and the shelves will answer.”
I leaned closer. “That’s it?”
Lioren waved at the pedestal. “Go on.”
Feeling ridiculous, I whispered, “Advanced rune magic.”
The rune flashed, and the air hummed. A blue light shimmered in the distance, illuminating a spine on a high shelf. Carefully, I made my way over.
What I really needed was a map.
If I found a layout of the castle, I could work on going home. But searching for maps with Lioren hovering nearby was risky. No matter. He’d let his guard down eventually. In the meantime, I’d study runes. I retrieved the book and brought it to a table.
Countless drawings filled the pages of Advanced Rune Magic.
Runes I’d never seen before, complete with detailed instructions on how to draw them and the ingredients involved.
Gods, these weren’t simple wards the clerics in Skalgard hoarded like precious jewels. This was magic I hadn’t known existed.
Hours passed as I lost myself in the texts. The library had grown quiet, shadows lengthening across the shelves. I flipped through the book, soaking up information. When I’d skimmed through Volume I, I reached for the second. The álfskeldi rune caught my eye. The description beside it read:
The álfskeldi rune channels natural elements into raw power. When inscribed with precision and activated with dragon blood, it can summon storms that rage for days, capable of flooding entire valleys or tearing apart armies.
Caution: this rune is notoriously volatile.
One misdrawn line, and the energy it harnesses can turn on its caster, reducing everything in the immediate vicinity to ash. For this reason, álfskeldi is rarely used, even by the most skilled fae. The elemental forces it binds require both immense skill and unwavering concentration.
I traced the rune’s pattern with my finger, and the page warmed.
“Dragon blood,” I whispered.
Who had access to that? And why would anyone create something designed to kill thousands? I stared at the page, thinking of all the villages that could be drowned, all the families that could be torn apart. Someone created this rune knowing exactly what it would do.
I kept flipping pages, absorbed in descriptions of storm magic and blood runes. The afternoon light had dimmed, casting longer shadows between the shelves.
A book fell somewhere in the distance. I glanced up, expecting Lioren, but the library appeared empty. He must have stepped out.
I returned to my reading, but the feeling of being watched crawled up my spine. The air grew thicker, carrying a scent I couldn’t place. More primal.
“Studying warfare, are we?” a dry voice said.
I turned.
A fae lounged against the table. Dusky blue skin, dark hair falling loose past his shoulders.
A scar cut through his lip, and his scaled leather armor looked pieced together from many kills.
His red eyes fixed on me, glowing beneath thick lashes like embers in shadow.
He grinned, and a fang caught the light.
My pulse stuttered.
Dreadfae.