Chapter 21
The perfume-and-cologne-filled air bristles with anticipation, restless, adding to the chaos of my inner turmoil when I fail to come up with a plan to outrun the powerful connection linking me to the Shadow Prince.
I sip from the crystal flute in my hands, given to me by one of the servants weaving through the balcony, passing drinks to those watching the competition occurring below.
The sand pit from yesterday is gone. Four Virendrellians are spaced evenly throughout the pristine courtyard, standing in front of blocks of ice, stone, wood, and metal.
It’s a sculpture contest of some sort. The competitors wield their elements, chiseling and bending the raw materials into elaborate, lovely designs under the bright, warm sun.
Sweat dampens the togas of each Virendrellian as they manipulate their power with incredible precision and control. The woman who wields earth slashes an arm across her body, and the slab of wood splits down the middle.
Amazing.
My power billows.
I rest a hand over my chest and tap my fingertips against my sternum.
I’m sore and tired from training with Draven yesterday, but my magic is refreshed.
Rejuvenated. As if days without the presence of shadows have allowed me peace so it can replenish quicker—as if the very air in Virendrell is healing.
The earth wielder splits the wood slabs apart once more. The pieces hover in the air, bending and groaning, assembling into what looks to be a…birdcage?
Impressive.
The display barely registers beyond that.
My attention drifts inward instead—pulled back to the human prince, the one described so diligently in the Fae female’s diary. Her entries blur into vivid recollections of love and yearning.
The Fae female and the human prince are courting.
Though the pages read less like a personal diary and more like the forbidden romance novels Ferria smuggled from Hammond on our sixteenth birthday—the same books that first exposed me to the mechanics that occur between a man and a woman in the bedroom.
The Fae’s devotion burns from the pages, warming my soul, bringing attention to the emptiness lingering in my own since I cut Lev out of my life. An emptiness my traitorous heart continues to try and fill with a certain Shadow Prince.
An awed chorus flows over the crowd. A water wielder puts the final touches on a block of ice, revealing an oversized, detailed carving of a beautiful lily.
“Clever choice.” A man slides up to stand next to me at the railing, occupying the large gap between me and the nearest onlooker.
Despite their curious glances and lingering stares, no one in Virendrell seems to want to stand near me today.
Except this guy.
I take in the man’s strong profile, startled to realize I recognize him. He’s the fire wielder. The one who won the contest yesterday.
The man turns and meets my assessing stare, lifting a brow. “Don’t you think?”
Specks of gold warm his amber eyes, matching the subtle highlights in the thick brown hair hanging past his shoulders. A short-sleeved toga showcases bulging biceps.
I clear my throat. “Pardon?”
“The lily.” He waves a hand at the courtyard below. “It’s Lady Helen’s favorite flower. Clever of Gerald to choose that for his ice sculpture. It’s sure to win him her vote.”
I shift my attention to the raised dais, located at the front of the courtyard below. Mayor Augustus and his wife sit in the middle of the structure. Their son and his future wife sit behind them.
“Doesn’t the bride’s vote matter more?”
The bride, Daphne, strains her neck, attempting to view the contest around her future in-laws' heads.
“It should, shouldn’t it? But alas, matriarchs hold most of the power in betrothal contests. Especially ones with bloodlines as…potent as Lady Helen’s.” His pointed stare fills with meaning I don’t understand.
But rather than reveal my ignorance, I nod. “I see.”
I sip more of the bubbly drink, frowning when I reach the bottom of the glass.
“Allow me.” The man turns and lifts a finger.
A server appears. The fire wielder lifts two flutes from the woman’s tray with a wink and hands one to me.
“Thank you.” Our fingers brush when I take the glass.
“You’re welcome, Miss…”
“Elara.” I sip my drink and lick a drop from my lip. “And you are?”
“Leto. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elara.”
He holds out a hand. I don’t hesitate to place my palm in his. I do, however, flush when he bends forward and plants a lingering kiss to the back of my hand.
A titter of whispers rises from the women closest to us as their eyes flick from me to Leto.
One more drawn-out second passes before Leto straightens. I pull my hand back the moment his fingers loosen and turn back to the courtyard.
The air wielder has been striking the slab of stone with gusts of wind, the strong force chipping away the hard mineral into pebbles that are piling up on the ground.
“I’ve heard you’re a healer.”
Warning bells chime in my head, louder than the ones that echo through Virendrell at all hours of the day.
“Have you?” I take another sip.
“It’s not often visitors come to Virendrell,” Leto says by way of explanation. “As expected, you and your companions are the talk of the town.”
And yet…I’m the only one enduring scrutiny. The Shadow Fae were nowhere to be found when I woke up this morning. Again.
My grip on the glass tightens.
Their absence feels like abandonment, and I don’t know what to make of that emotion.
Or the visceral heat that rippled through my gut when I notice that the mayor’s daughter is not watching the contest with her family below.
Leto’s stare bores into the side of my face, waiting.
I take a breath and say, “I imagine so.”
Then I change the subject. “Congratulations on winning yesterday.”
His grin widens. “You saw the contest?”
“I did.” I sip more of the bubbly liquid, and my head lightens. “Your performance was impressive.”
He puffs out his chest. “Thank you.”
“Why aren’t you competing today?”
“Competitors only need to win one of the contests to qualify for the final event at week’s end. Now that I’ve secured my place, I get to enjoy the festivities.” Warm eyes trail over me.
My skin pebbles under the toga’s smooth fabric.
And there’s no mistaking how the dark marks on my arms writhe with annoyance.
I grind my teeth together.
This is absurd.
Rian gets to traipse around Virendrell with Iris and his cadre while I’m left behind. And the marks binding me to him have the nerve to be bothered when a male talks to me?
It’s…infuriating.
I want to rebel against it.
Leto continues to admire me, eyes traveling over my hair and the braid hanging over my shoulder.
The bubbly drink gives me confidence. I rotate and prop my hip against the railing. Leto turns to do the same.
“Do you think you’ll win the final contest?” I ask.
“I know I will.”
“What is the prize if you win?” My gaze dips over the broad expanse of his chest, lowering to take in his tapered waist and thick thighs.
Leto shrugs. “Anything I want.”
I blink and meet his stare. “Anything?”
“Well…anything within reason.” His smile turns into a smirk. “Though, there aren’t many limits.”
The alcohol dulls my thoughts. Otherwise, his words would alarm me more than they are.
My gaze drops once more, and a pang of loneliness hits me.
Is that why I’m pulled to Rian?
Is it loneliness?
Can the insatiable desire to run my hands through the Shadow Prince’s dark hair be appeased by something as simple as losing myself in intimacy with another? Even for a short while?
I bite my lip and stare at Leto. He’s shorter than the Fae, but sturdy. Strong. I wonder how many ridges are carved into his torso.
One of my hands rises into the air.
Leto’s eyes flash.
He shifts forward.
A tall, lean body steps between us. “There you are, love. I’ve been looking for you.”
My vision swims for a second before Darius comes into focus.
His eyes twinkle, but that amusement swiftly fades as he takes in my expression. “Are you drunk?”
“N-no.” I hiccup.
Shit.
Am I drunk?
I sway.
Darius grabs my arm. “Mother, save me, Elara. It’s not even midday.”
“S-sorry.”
He groans.
A throat clears. Leto steps out from behind the Fae, eyebrows pulled together as he looks at me.
Darius’s gaze narrows. “Can I help you?”
“No, sir. That is… I’m Leto. I apologize. I gave Elara a second glass of kurosa. I didn’t know it would affect her so—”
“It’s fine,” he clips. “Excuse us.”
Darius tugs my arm, and I stumble away from the railing, barely managing to lift a hand in farewell before we’re swallowed by the crowd and Leto disappears from view.
I trip over my tingling feet and huff. “You’re so mean.”
“What?” Darius pulls me down a hall that I think takes us to the stairs that will lead us to our rooms.
But I’m so dizzy that I can’t be sure.
The portraits lining the walls blur, the faces indistinguishable, but their blond hair shines like a beacon.
“I was about to seal the deal.”
He chokes. “Seal the deal?”
“You know, have sex,” I state matter-of-factly. “And you ruined it.”
“Mother save me, Elara.” He shakes his head, wide eyes scanning our surroundings. “Watch your words, or that poor bastard won’t live to see the morning.”
I know what he means without even needing to ask.
“Why is Rian determined to ruin my life?”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing my prince wants to do.”
And yet that’s exactly what he’s doing.
I tilt to the side. Darius rights me easily.
I press my lips together and stare at my sandaled feet as we climb the stairs to the third floor.
A cheer rises from behind us. Another winner has been declared. I hope it’s the earth wielder. The bird cage was pretty.
I blink, and I’m outside the door to my room. Darius leads me inside, guiding me toward the bed.
A hazy thought takes root. A sharp warning tries to override it, but the hum of alcohol buzzes, drowning it out.
My fingers curl around Darius’s toga’s straps, vaguely acknowledging they’re black like Rian’s, before I shove all thoughts of the Shadow Prince out of my head and tug.
The Fae teeters forward before rocking back on his heels.
“Elara?” Worried eyes trail over my face. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” My power flows through my veins, warming my limbs.
Or maybe that’s the alcohol? Whatever it is, it gives me the strength to drag him forward, and we both collapse on the bed.
Darius’s arms lock out to keep from crushing me. “What in The Mother’s name are you doing?”
“Kiss me,” I demand.
Even through the haze of alcohol, the horror on his face penetrates my fogged senses.
“Are you mad? How much did you drink?”
“Enough to know what I want.” I pull him forward. “You called me your mate. Don’t you want to kiss me?”
Color drains from his face. “Fuck, Elara. I was just messing around.”
The words roll off me without leaving a mark.
“Good. That’s better. Then kiss me, no strings attached.”
“Damn it. I didn’t realize how much of a lightweight you are. Rian is going to lose his shit.”
“Don’t,” I hiss even as my heart races. “Don’t mention his name.”
He sighs. “You’re both so bloody stubborn. It’s annoying to watch.”
I don’t care to ask what that means. “Kiss me, Darius. Please.”
He shakes his head, no hesitation in his rejection. “No can do, sweet Elara. I have no interest in dying.”
I pout.
A thought rolls off my tongue before I can think twice. “Is it because of Petra?”
Every muscle in Darius’s body grows rigid.
His features harden, and his dark eyes flare. “What did you just say?”
Shit.
A pulse ricochets through my head, telling me to shut up, but the alcohol in my system dulls the warning.
“Petra.”
Darius shoves away from the mattress, reeling back until he hits the wall on the other side of the room.
I sit up and blink when my head spins.
Darius’s wild eyes meet mine. “How do you know about Petra?”
“From you.” I press my fingers to my temple, trying to steady the spinning. “I saw her in the dungeon…when she gave you that tonic.”
His already pale face turns white as a sheet. “How could you possibly—”
“I was healing you.” I pause to hiccup, covering my mouth with my hand. “Back in Ver—”
“That’s not possible!” He pushes off the wall and stomps across the room, hands shaking. “You… There’s no way that—”
He cuts off and jerks his head to the side, staring out the open window with a rigid jaw. “You…you connected with my mind.”
“I…I guess so?” I close my eyes and sway back.
My head sinks into the fluffy pillow. The mattress hugs my body.
This is heavenly.
Fatigue tugs at my consciousness.
“What else?” Darius clips.
My eyes crack open. My chin drops, and I find him hovering at the end of the bed.
“What else, what?”
“What else did you see?” His throat bobs. “In the dungeon… What did you see?”
My thoughts are fuzzy. What did I see?
My lips turn down. “There was a guard. No, two guards? And Petra.”
Darius flinches.
I continue, “And she mentioned the Shadow Ki—”
“Stop.” He holds up a hand, glancing at the door. “That’s enough. I need to find Rian.”
I’m intoxicated. Badly. But the panic laced through his words is impossible to miss.
“What is it?” I try to focus on his eyes, ignoring the two floating over his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“If I’m right…a whole fucking lot.”
Darius throws me another unsettled look, then turns on his heel and stomps out my guest room.
Awareness punctures through my drunkenness, igniting a spark of unease in my chest.
Something about my insight into his past has frightened Darius… Something about me scares him.
But what in this world could make a Shadow Fae so afraid?