Chapter 20 Forgotten
twenty
Forgotten
Zydar
I had always thought I'd die a thousand times sooner before I ever gave in to another like this.
That I would never take a lover. Never give in to the desires of the flesh.
I was supposed to rule and rule alone. I was meant to sacrifice everything to the realm that had given me life. Power. Purpose.
But now, here I was, tangled in the arms of a mortal, my wings wrapped around her, shielding her from the world, keeping her safe as if she was the most precious thing.
Keeping her for myself. In a place where no one could see her but me.
A rumble loosed itself from my chest as I enjoyed how content I was, keeping her here. Mine.
After what had happened in the training arena, I couldn't leave her there. So I'd gathered her into my arms, her body still trembling with aftershocks, and taken flight. My wings had carried us through the pre-dawn darkness, taking routes I knew would be empty at this hour.
The first light of dawn was breaking, casting everything in soft pinks and oranges. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the world damp and glistening. The air smelled of wet earth, of pine and cedar, of rain-washed leaves.
I lay there, on my bed, looking down at the sleeping form of Miralyte in my arms.
The woman had the potential to destroy my entire life, and all that I had ever worked for. The one who was a constant thorn in my side. The one who refused to obey, to submit. Well, except in bed. I grinned with satisfaction again and felt my body respond.
Her breath moved across my chest, warm and even, and my body tightened with the memory of how she had sounded under me, unguarded and fierce all at once. The storm beyond the windows thinned to a pearly mist.
My feathers curved around her shoulders, a dark canopy that shut out the pallid dawn. I should have pulled away. I should have stood, dressed, restored the distance that keeps both of us alive. But I couldn’t have. Instead, I lowered my face and breathed her in. Salt, steel, sun.
A ripple went through the wards. The faintest tremor, like a string plucked in another room. I opened my eyes. Too late.
The latch fell. The door pushed inward.
Gryven stood on the threshold, rain water still clinging to his hair, a shadow carved out of old iron and older loyalty. His gaze took in the room. Me, with a naked Vessel curled against my side. I kept my expression blank.
A shadow of pain passed through Gryven's eyes and the world tilted. I saw something in his face I had never expected in a hundred years: disappointment and pity. A sadness that lingered far beyond the length of his exhale.
He looked at Miralyte and then at me. "Highness." His voice was thick. "How could you do this to yourself?"
Mira woke then, blinking in the early morning light, her golden hair dishevelled. When she realized we had an audience, her cheeks flooded pink. She rolled off me and onto her feet in one motion, graceful as a hunting cat. She gathered her clothing.
Gryven's eyes were dark as flint. He stood frozen in the center of the room, still staring at the bed and the tangle of sheets and scattered feathers that bore witness to the night. A vein in his forehead bulged. "This is what I didn't want to believe until I saw it with my own two eyes."
I didn't say a word. What was there to say? Nothing that would make any sense or change anything.
I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and stood, reaching for my power with barely a thought. Shadow and lightning coalesced around my body, weaving itself into fabric. Within moments, I was dressed in dark pants.
Gryven turned on her, fury twisting his face.
"And you," he hissed. " Did you think that seducing a warlord would guarantee you could survive?
You're the most cursed creature that ever drew breath.
" His wings rustled behind him. "No. I cannot allow it.
This ends here and now." He took a step towards her.
"Gryven, that's enough. Step back."
I said the words without anger, but he froze mid step.
"I will not see you destroy yourself. You forget your place. Your duty."
"No," I bit out. "I haven't forgotten. Have you forgotten yours?"
His mouth fell open, and his chest heaved.
He took a long look at the girl who was still fumbling with the ties of her shirt, his eyes roving over her face, over her neck.
"I could understand a meaningless affair, but this?
" His fingers twitched at his sides, like he could rip her apart.
"To take a mortal in such a way, in chambers meant to honor your future bride?
You dare despoil it by taking this cursed woman there?
The High Queen will kill her in seconds. "
A dark, sickening feeling spread through my gut. His words were venom, dripping with contempt. He knew just how to get under my skin and how to use it to hurt me.
“Enough,” I said again, but my voice had gone lower, rough with the storm building behind my ribs. “You speak as if you are in a position to judge my actions. I still command this court. Do not forget who you've pledged your loyalty to. Me.”
Gryven’s lip curled. His wings spread just slightly, the gesture halfway between defiance and grief.
“I forget nothing. I remember the boy I raised from blood and ash. I remember swearing that the boy would never fall like his father. I remember telling myself that when my bones turned to dust, at least Thunder would stand on a warlord who put his court before his lust.” His mouth worked as if the next words were poison on his tongue.
“Now, I see that is not true. You are weak, boy.”
My magic pulsed and snapped. I stood up. My head pounded and the world went red at the edges. I felt nothing at that moment. Not guilt. Not even anger. Only cold emptiness.
Her fists tightened at her sides, but I stepped between them before she could speak. “Say one more word against her or me, and you are no longer welcome here. No longer welcome in any court that bears allegiance to mine. Do you understand me, Gryven?”
He looked me straight in the eye. His eyes were dark. They held a sadness I hadn't seen since my father had died.
Gryven took a long breath. And then he knelt, a perfect show of submission. It only pissed me off. I hated when he knelt to me. Hated the way the motion was just as graceful as if he was born to kneel.
“Warlord. Lord Commander of Thunder. Ruler of us all.” Gryven’s words were soft and clipped.
“For centuries I have been your steward. For centuries I have watched over you. But I can no longer watch over what you choose to destroy yourself.” With a snap of his wings, he rose to his feet, turned, and walked out.
The door slid shut behind him. “She has to know, Your Majesty,” came his last, fading murmur.
The door closed with a dull thud. It felt like a nail driving into my coffin. The silence was heavy. Suffocating.
Mira’s breathing was uneven, her eyes narrowing as if she could peel the truth out of me by will alone. “She has to know,” she repeated softly, and there was steel in her voice. “What is it I must know, Zydar?”
I ran a hand through my hair, the motion sharp, restless. The words clawed at the back of my throat, but I forced them down. “Nothing that concerns you.”
Her chin tilted, defiant. “If it concerns me enough for him to whisper it at my back, then it concerns me.”
“Don't let his words get to you.”
“What have you not told me, Zydar?”
Before I could form an answer, a knock rapped against the chamber door.
My jaw clenched. “Announce yourself!” I growled, already braced for Gryven’s shadow to darken my threshold again.
“It is me,” came the reply. Soft. Musical. A voice threaded with light.
Narietta.
I let out a slow breath. “Enter.”
The door opened, and my sister stepped through.
Her hair, cropped short to her jaw, gleamed like silver fog after rain, each strand catching what little light the dawn offered. Her face was all delicate bones and pale luminescence, as if sculpted from moonstone.
She wore an ivory gown that draped around her in soft folds, her shoulders bare and slender, the skin almost translucent.
“Brother.” Her voice was soft, as always. Softer than our kind. “I've been looking for you. We need to speak.”
Her gaze flicked to Miralyte, then back to me. For an instant, silence stretched taut between the three of us. Narietta saw. She understood. Yet she said nothing.
Mira shifted, tugging the cloak tighter around her. “I should go. Leave you two to talk.”
“No,” Narietta said at once. Her voice was velvet, with a hint of steel beneath. “You should stay, Mira.”
The words were an order, not an invitation. I recognized the look in her eyes. I had seen it many times before. That was the look of a princess. One who would not be denied.
Mira blinked, then inclined her head. She stayed.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What do you want, sister?”
Narietta stepped further inside, her skirts whispering along the stone. When she stopped before me, her voice trembled, just enough to betray the strain beneath.
“Silvyr… She needs help.” Narietta’s hands clasped together, knuckles pale. “You have to let her continue the treatments.”
Her mate. A fae whose body was slowly rotting from the inside out. A sickness with no cure, except for maybe the one remedy that could never be allowed.
My chest tightened. My fist closed slowly at my side until my nails bit flesh. I shook my head. “No.”
Narietta flinched, then straightened, her red eyes locking on mine with a force I had not seen in her for years. Her hands unclasped, trembling as they fell to her sides.