Chapter 12
Wilder
Silence.
My teeth clench as I wait for the next beat. The gap between them is almost as painful as my heart thudding against my chest. Each heartbeat is fractionally quicker than the last. A steady surge that blurs my focus.
Thump.
Silence.
Thump.
I wait for the empty void to consume me like it did in the prison. For my blood to turn cold, seeking that which it could not reach. Except here, magic prickles through my arms. Needling at my skin and scratching at my bones.
It’s a different form of torture when it’s yet to slow what hammers loud and quick in my chest.
Nothing is truly immortal. Especially not now. But with death nipping at my thoughts, luring me with its song, I hum in response.
Not yet.
My magic crackles, and I clench my fingers.
I close my eyes and try to wash away the monsters that linger from the prison. I’m no longer physically there, but that doesn’t mean I’ve left. The nightmares it planted claw at the inside of my mind.
What’s real?
What’s a picture being painted in the darkness?
Thump.
Silence.
Thump.
After a century of counting every beat, the echo still makes me shudder.
At least the emptiness is gone now. Where my magic was once suppressed, it flows freely, offering what little comfort can be found in the crackle that stirs in my veins.
I take a deep breath and focus on my magic. So potent, so raw, I can taste it with every swallow.
I allowed Hazel to have her moment in front of her brother’s court, saturating the room in darkness. But it doesn’t mean I couldn’t have gone toe-to-toe with her. Especially when my magic begs almost as loudly as the monsters in my head, desperate to get out.
Like they did when my angry, golden claws wrapped around the throats of those Fae and snuffed out their lives. It should have been enough. But all I want is more.
All in due time.
A door clicks open, and I lift off the wall as Selia slips into the hallway. Her light-brown hair is more golden than I remember. Highlights catch the light streaming from the orbs overhead. Her eyes meet mine, then quickly drift anywhere else.
“Rebels in Alyssium?” I hitch an eyebrow, following her down the hallway when she tries to avoid me.
“I have nothing to say to you about your people.”
“They were your people, too, once. Although you seem to have forgotten that.” I slip my hands in my pockets.
“My loyalty is to Lyrichia.” Her shoulders roll back.
She’s taller than I remember. Colder than I remember.
The prison played so many tricks on me that it’s easy to forget what is altered memory and what is real.
“If that’s the case, then your loyalty is fickle.”
Selia stops abruptly, spinning to face me. Her finger jabs into the center of my chest as she lifts her chin. “You have no right to judge what I am or am not anymore, Wilder. This is your fault.”
“Are you insinuating that I locked myself in a cell for a century?” I hitch an eyebrow.
“We both know this began long before that.” Her shoulders sink, the slightest hint of the female I remember. “I tried to warn you what was brewing, but you never listened.”
Her brown hair dulls the farther we move down the hallway. The farther we get from Malachi. Even so, her anger brings out the brightness in her eyes. Irritation thickens with every exhale as the gray storm around her brews. The hallway darkens, filling with the scent of rain.
I’m sure she intends for it to fortify this wedge between us. But her display of rage is nothing but comforting after so long without it.
“Why can’t you just let this go?” Her gaze sharpens as she backs up a step.
“And let our people die?”
“They’ll die anyway. The Well is too strong. You’ve been gone a long time.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?”
Her cold eyes flicker with a drop of sympathy that she quickly washes away. “What’s done is done. I’m not leaving with you, so there’s no point in you being here if you’re only doing it to try to convince me.”
“That’s not the only reason,” I remind her.
“Ah, yes. The Rite.” Selia rolls her eyes. “Don’t pretend you care about the human girl.”
“She’s powerful.”
“So I’m told.” Her voice is laced with irritation.
“Selia—” I reach for her, but she pulls back.
“Go home, Wilder. I’m where I need to be. I’m not your problem to worry about anymore.”
Voices come from down the hall, and Selia takes another step back. She smooths her hands over her shimmering dress. It’s beautiful, as to be expected with Malachi’s maids waiting on her. Everything in Lyrichia is a show. A parade of his spoils and wealth.
“Goodnight, Wilder.” Selia’s voice is polite and fake, and she’s once more avoiding my gaze.
When she turns to leave with her guards, I don’t follow. I simply watch them lead her to Malachi’s wing.
The king’s perfect little pet.
Her dress sways in the invisible breeze she carries with her. Storm clouds loom when the king isn’t around to chase them away with his magic.
A sharp inhale at my right catches my attention, and I glance over to find silvery eyes watching me. Even from across the long hall, Elorie’s freckles sparkle. Her eyes ignite. Something stirs inside her that’s unlike anything I’ve felt or seen.
I’m still not convinced she’ll learn to wield her magic before the Rite, but if she does, there’s no doubt the decimation will be magnificent.
Elorie freezes in the center of the hallway, staring at me, until her guards usher her forward, forcing her in my direction. She tugs her lower lip between her teeth, but when my stare falls to her mouth, she stops, like she thinks I’ll use that hint of her nerves against her.
She’s right.
It’s what I do. What I’m good at.
I was built to be a weapon—not a king. And now, those roles are at odds with each other.
Elorie doesn’t take her eyes off me as she walks down the hallway, surrounded by guards. The great King Malachi is protecting his precious gem, and I don’t blame him. Her magic appears boundless.
She gets closer, and I don’t miss that she’s assessing me. She squints, tiptoeing at the edges of my mind. Exploring that space that she slips into without knowing how she does it. So I open just enough for her to slide in. I’m curious what she’s looking for.
Instead of speaking to her this time, I meet her with magic. I let it crackle between us just to see how she’ll react.
Her back stiffens, but she doesn’t accept me in return.
Not like in the prison when I felt something widen within her.
It danced at the edges of her aura, and when it burst, it consumed everything.
There’s only one thing in my existence that came close to that feeling, and the scar cutting through my cheek aches at the memory of it.
When Elorie gets closer, she shifts to the other side of Callum, putting him between us.
I’ve met him a few times over the years.
He’s a good soldier and loyal to his king.
He glances down at Elorie walking so close to him with hope and delirium in his eyes, not realizing she isn’t seeking his comfort. She just wants an escape.
She flinches when he places his hand on her elbow to guide her. Only then do those silvery eyes stop watching me.
Only then does my mind quiet.