Chapter 20
Elorie
It’s not unusual for me to keep my distance from Hazel, but tonight I avoid her side of the room entirely. She sits on her throne beside the king’s, watching his court flit about. Her chair is decorated in fragments of black stone that I now realize are obsidian.
She’s surrounded by it.
Wearing it.
Black rings wrap two of her fingers, and one ear has an obsidian stud. The suffocating weight of the stone was unbearable for the few days I was chained, so I can’t imagine walking around adorned by it every day. Maybe it doesn’t press as heavily against her magic as it did mine.
There’s nothing in her expression to indicate it hurts her.
I shiver at the thought of the power that thrums in her blood—the power that channeled through me earlier today and nearly stripped me of my soul. Hazel’s magic is so wild and strong that she can’t trust herself not to accidentally unleash it.
Hazel takes a sip of wine, and her dark gaze meets mine, so I look away. I can understand why armies fear her.
King Malachi walks the room with Selia on his arm, occasionally pointing in my direction. Fae fawn over him as he does his rounds, and Selia doesn’t so much as blink when he grabs another female’s backside as she whispers in his ear.
Maybe Selia doesn’t care.
Or maybe she isn’t allowed to.
Is that what he’s going to expect from me at some point?
The thought of touching the king, much less doing anything more intimate with him, has me taking another sip of my wine. It’s robust with the slightest tang of bitterness. Cherries, someone said. Another fruit I never had the chance to try on Alyssium, but there’s an abundance here.
I’ve been steadily downing glasses all night, which is probably not the best idea as my magic fights to recover. But I’m on edge. For magic that refuses to cooperate, the loss of it was overwhelming.
“He’s leaving early,” I mumble to myself as Malachi leaves the room with Selia on one arm and a male on the other.
Hazel seems to take that as her cue to leave as well, exiting through a side door at the opposite end of the room from them. She’s only ever here if King Malachi is present.
“Seems he has his hands full.” Greer’s voice comes from beside me, her gaze set on the door closing behind the king.
I spend more time with Greer than anyone else at the palace, but we aren’t friends. From what I gather, Greer isn’t friends with anyone. So I’m surprised that she’s bothered to initiate the conversation tonight.
Regardless, I jump at the opportunity, motioning to an open couch at the back of the room. “Want to sit?”
Her eyebrows pinch at my offer, like she doesn’t know what to make of someone trying to spend time with her. Or maybe she thinks I’m absurd for asking a guard to take a seat while the room is still full. Either way, after a long pause, she nods.
With the king gone, the ceiling has dimmed, and all around us, Fae have become more uninhibited. Some drift in groups out the doors, while others get comfortable at tables and couches.
Watching them makes me miss the comfort of the tavern on Alyssium.
Letia and I would claim a table at the back while the crowd grew rowdier with every round of drinks.
Some winters were so bad we’d get snowed in, so we’d take turns resting our heads on each other’s shoulders to sleep. I miss my friends. My home.
My father.
The hole that carved itself inside me when I lost him isn’t healing. If anything, it grows wider by the day.
“Hiding in the back as usual. I should have expected it.” Callum stops at the couch with his hands in his pockets, still wearing the same thing he was earlier.
He smiles down at me, and it’s another flash of the tavern. When I wasn’t home, he knew where to find me and Letia. The village was small, with not much to do once night settled in. He’d always find us in the back, whispering to each other.
Callum would claim to be at the tavern checking on the humans. But we knew he was really there for us because he’d steal the seat across the table and stay there all night.
“Are you going to sit down and have a drink or stand there and judge us?” I pat the seat beside me.
He grins, dropping into it. Snatching the wine from my hand, he takes a healthy sip.
When he hands it back to me, his gaze skates to my left. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed, Greer.”
Relaxed isn’t a word I’d use to describe Greer when her back is stiff, and she hasn’t so much as had a sip of wine, but at least she’s sitting.
“Same goes for you, Wilhelm.” Her eyes drop to his casual outfit.
It’s almost impossible to look at Callum tonight.
He’s attractive in guard armor, but even more so when he’s relaxed like this.
It’s hard to ignore every brush of his leg or graze of his arm.
Which is why I avoid his gaze and sip my wine, hoping he thinks the drinks are the reason for my cheeks warming.
The crowd is thinner now and far more relaxed. Glancing at the far doorway, I notice Wilder walking in.
“Why is he here when Selia isn’t?”
“He’s probably looking for someone desperate enough to climb into his bed.” Greer huffs.
“Would they?” My eyebrows pinch. “He’s the king of Vaelier. He wants to destroy all of us.”
“Have you seen him?” Greer tics an eyebrow as the crowd parts.
His dark shirt hugs his muscular arms. The ties at his collar are open, showing off a patch of bare chest. He’s obscenely attractive.
Dark runes cover his skin, with the faintest hint of a shimmer at their edges, like his magic can’t be contained within him.
His golden eyes glow, and when his jaw tightens, it draws out the strength in his features.
I clear my throat. “What about him?”
Greer smirks, reading me easily. But I refuse to entertain how handsome Wilder is when all he wants is to destroy the kingdom. No matter how his face lights when he laughs at something someone says.
A female approaches Wilder, smiling up at him. Her red hair is in thick curls down her back, and her dress leaves little to the imagination. It shouldn’t matter, and yet, something in my chest revolts at the thought of him being interested in her, so I look away.
“You two are just as bad as all the other females in the room watching him.” Callum chuckles.
Greer’s eyes immediately look anywhere else, and I realize she was staring as intently as I was.
“What are those rune markings Wilder has?” I ask, trying not to imagine the red-haired female running her fingers all over them. “I’ve never seen those on any other Fae.”
“They’re rare.” Greer sinks back, relaxing as I take another sip. “But he’s not the only one with marks from the gods.”
“The actual gods?”
Greer smiles, glancing at Callum, and I wish I hadn’t said that. It’s easy to feel so naive as I navigate this entirely different world. On Alyssium, I was a smart, strong, capable woman. Here, I’m a weak, ignorant human.
“There aren’t many Fae with gods’ marks,” Callum says, nudging my shoulder like he can sense me getting in my head. “They appear at random. Usually, after something terrible happens.”
“How terrible?”
Callum’s gaze moves to Wilder, who is still talking to the beautiful female. Her fingers graze his forearm, and he shifts back ever so slightly.
“Wilder got his during the final battle, right before he was locked in the prison. He was”—Callum pauses, glancing at Greer—“near death when they appeared.”
“Were you there?”
Callum shakes his head. “I was on Alyssium already.”
“I was there,” Greer says, her expression colder now.
“They shone gold before they went dark. I always thought it was a rumor that the marks were those of the gods until I saw it myself. Something other than magic went through him. Whatever it was, it saved him. I will say he has more marks than any other Fae I’ve seen or heard of.
Usually, gods’ marks are contained to one part of the body. Wilder’s are extensive.”
“What does that mean?”
“Only the gods know.” She shrugs.
I watch Wilder, talking freely. He’s rarely here when King Malachi isn’t, but it seems most Fae stayed tonight. The room relaxes around us, and maybe they need the break as much as I do. A moment to not feel the pressure of being on display.
Something stirs at the edge of the room, and I spot two males getting rowdy. A guard steps between them as the first throws a punch.
“And you thought you could dress down to get a day off.” Greer chuckles, glancing at Callum.
“My mistake.” He pushes to stand at the same time as Greer. “We’ll be back.”
Callum and Greer cross the room, just as another male gets involved in the brawl. Unlike at the tavern back home, no one watches and stares. It’s almost as if they expect this and are simply waiting for it to contain itself.
I take a sip of wine, smiling as Greer snatches a male’s wrist and twists his arm around, pinning him against the wall. After being surrounded by male guards my entire life, it’s refreshing to see a female keeping them in line.
Callum and Greer wrangle the males and escort them from the room, and I continue sipping wine. When it’s empty, a pretty female circles and fills it back up. I’m slower with this glass, as my head is already swimming. Halfway through, I realize Callum and Greer still haven’t returned.
The lights are dimmer now, like the sun is setting and it’s just dipped below the horizon. The music changes to a sorrowful tune.
“Your bodyguards left you all alone.” Wilder drops into the seat beside me when I hadn’t seen him approach. Unlike Callum, he leaves no space between us, pressing his leg right up against my bare thigh.
My thin blue dress is thankfully not sheer tonight, but the slit reaches my hip, hiding little with how I’m sitting.
“I’m never alone.” I tip my glass to the guards at either side of the couch. They maintain their distance, looking away, but I feel them keeping an eye on me.
“True. Gods forbid anything happen to the king’s precious chosen.”