Chapter 42
Elorie
The training ring in Solace is the opposite of that of the Ley Court’s. It’s atop one of the manor’s towers with clear views of the city below. There are no trees blocking the view or caging me in. It’s all open space.
A crisp breeze tussles my hair when I climb the final step, and I spot Callum sharpening a sword at the opposite side. Below, the air is still, leaving me to believe he’s creating the cool current that pushes away the hot desert air.
Thankfully, Greer and Callum’s trip to Lochlan’s weaponry took longer than expected today, so we aren’t training in the heat of the afternoon. The sun is already setting, kissing the horizon.
Callum catches my gaze, his jaw setting when he spots Wilder walking behind me. I’ve bathed and braided my hair, but I still feel like what we’ve done is written all over my face.
The breeze whips a little harder, and I beeline for Greer, who is setting up to my left. She doesn’t look up when I stop beside her, but her nose scrunches.
“Gods, Elorie.” She sheathes her sword and begins sharpening a dagger. “His scent is all over you.”
“His scent?”
Her eyes narrow, cutting to Wilder, and my cheeks flush with heat.
“Oh, I—”
“Please tell me it was the haelmarrow.”
My lips form a hard line, and while it might smooth things over to lie to Greer, I can’t bring myself to. It wasn’t anything but my reckless heart chasing what’s bad for me.
“Gods, souls, and stars,” she grumbles.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say, snatching a dagger.
It can’t mean anything, I remind myself.
Greer eyes Wilder, who sits on the ledge of the roof. Callum spins his sword in circles, his arm flexing with every swoop. His lethal glare has me wondering if, at any moment, he’ll send his blade along the wind to behead Wilder. Which can only mean one thing: Callum scents it too.
“Don’t forget what side you’re on.” Greer shoves her dagger in its sheath and turns toward the ring.
Anger courses through me when I grab a second dagger and watch the back of Greer’s head as she walks away. I understand why she’s upset, but I’m growing tired of being the only one constantly judged.
I glance over at Wilder, who is already watching me, but I don’t feel him at the edge of my thoughts.
“Ready?” Greer snaps, and I turn to face her, my eyes narrowing.
Gripping the daggers, I let the surge of anger transform into something else. Instead of stopping my magic in my veins and plugging it off, I take a deep breath, then let it go. A hesitant flicker sputters out.
“At least he’s good for something.” She cocks a brow.
But it’s more of a challenge than anything. Her judgment slams into the already heavy weight on my shoulders. I stop in front of her in a cold standoff.
“You’re one to judge.” I take a step forward. “Whose bed were you in last night?”
With the flare of my magic, other senses are heightened. I’ve never thought much about it, but Greer often smells of flowers. A spring morning. Except right now there’s something else blowing in the breeze I don’t recognize.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Then it’s not yours either.” I shove my chin up.
Greer’s jaw tenses, and we hold the standoff waiting for the other to move first. A tether that is going to snap. I need to battle this out with Greer—to face the reasons I’ve been beating myself up over what I’ve done.
My eyes barely blink when she moves. Greer unsheathes her sword with lightning-quick speed. It’s at her side and then at my throat when I’ve barely had time to think. Except it doesn’t meet flesh. It clashes against my blade. My daggers stop her right at my neck.
She smirks at the quick move. One so fluid and fast that I don’t know if I did it or if it was my magic. White light webs from my fingertips, glowing and sparking as they weave around the daggers.
I shove Greer off me and duck when she takes a swing at my head. There’s no more restraint in her movements. She throws the full force of her body into them, and I do the same. We meet each other step for step.
Blade for blade.
With each sturdy sweep, the glimmer of the rising moon shines against my magic until my daggers become nearly translucent. Cut from the stars like a piece of my heart that I feel brightening in the night.
I stop holding back and let my magic flood through my veins, sweeping into every corner until it fills my bones and spills from my fingertips.
The rage of the fight turns to something fiercer. Greer grins, and I smile back. Anger is shed, and we unleash what little power we have in this moment. The entire realm could fall apart. There is so little in our control. But this, our blades in our hands, is something we can cling to.
This we can mold to our will.
Greer and I move in circles as the city blurs around us. In the back of my mind, I feel Wilder and Callum watching, but they don’t try to intervene.
They can’t. I’m fighting Greer like I’m battling myself, and I sense she’s doing the same. For all the things that we’ve lost and all that’s out of our grasp. It’s infuriating to be a pawn. A piece that gets played.
Her sword clashes with my daggers, and I spin, stripping it from her hands. But she doesn’t hesitate, pulling out daggers of her own.
We circle, holding our weapons ready between us. Her magic tangles with mine. Or maybe she’s manipulating it like she can. Seeing through the white light and picking at the threads.
“You aren’t going to win this.” Greer’s tone is sharp, and I realize she didn’t say it out loud. Like Wilder, she’s in my mind.
Or am I in hers?
All around me, threads are open, and I’m clinging to one of them.
“Neither are you.” I fight to catch my breath. “None of us are.”
It’s the bitter truth. Even if Lyrichia prevails, there will be losses on both sides. In life. In morals.
“He’s not who you’re mad at,” I say, still circling.
“You’re right. You are.” Her eyes narrow. “What he did to my family—”
“It wasn’t him.”
“He’s one of them, Elorie. He isn’t good.”
“Is there any good left? We’ve all made hard choices. Some bad ones. What I’ve seen King Malachi do is no better than the rumors about Wilder. Besides, what I did with Wilder doesn’t change a gods damn thing. I’m still going to kill him and his people.”
And hate myself for it.
This time, when I lunge forward, it isn’t to fight Greer. It’s to release this knot in my chest. The rage brewing in her eyes turns to pity, so I focus on her hands. Metal glistening in the night.
The sun has fully set as we do this dance, and we don’t stop until I can’t physically move. My arms ache, and I’m drenched in sweat. Greer and I shove apart with our daggers at our sides, breathing hard.
“Promise me you’re going to choose Lyrichia.” She glances at Wilder. “No matter what.”
With a knot in my chest, I nod. “You know I will. For Alyssium.”
She nods, turning her back on me and bracing herself against the wall.
Only then do I meet Wilder’s stare, and I know he couldn’t have heard what I thought when I was focused on Greer, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t understand.
He relaxes against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. And when I reach out for him through the thread, he has me closed off from his thoughts.
Callum stops beside me, holding out a glass of water. But when I look up, his eyes are on Wilder.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a large swallow.
He nods, not meeting my gaze as he turns away. I’m about to call after him when something shakes beneath my feet.
Greer’s head pops up from where it was slumped, and Wilder turns. Night settled in as Greer and I fought. But in the distance, something sparks as bright as a sun. Right near the edge of the city.
“Rebels.” Callum’s jaw tenses.
“No.” Wilder’s gaze narrows, his eyes glowing as his magic reaches out. “That’s something else.”
A heavy pulse rips through the city, reminding me of the ravagers in Ruse Village. Except with my honed senses flaring, I can tell it’s not ravagers either. It’s magic from somewhere else.
Another pulse hits, and I’m pushed back. But in a blink, Wilder is behind me, stopping me from falling.
Greer glances at Callum, concern pinching between her eyebrows as screams begin to echo through the streets below.
Her attention whips to me. “You need to get inside.”
“No.” I shove off Wilder, feeling the magic at my hands flaring around my daggers. “We need to help them.”
“Elorie—”
“We can’t just let them die.” I cut off Callum, and I know he reads the end of my sentence in my head.
Like we did on Alyssium.
There, I ran. I let fear overtake me. I refuse to do that again. Magic quakes through Solace, and it’s met with more screams. Callum’s gaze falls to my hands, and I feel my magic moving all the way up my arms now. It hazes my vision but also allows me to see more clearly.
“Gods, if you die…” he mumbles, drawing something in the air.
“Then don’t let me.” I smirk, and Wilder chuckles.
Callum shakes his head, ignoring us both as his palm flattens on the wind and a Gateway starts to swirl open. I didn’t realize Callum was capable of making them, but I suppose some air wielders are known for their ability to manipulate distance and time.
I step forward, but Wilder snatches my wrist, spinning me until his hand finds my jaw.
“Are you going to try to convince me to stay here too?” I narrow my eyes.
“You should know by now I don’t bother with pointless arguments.” He smirks, and it sends my belly fluttering. “Take these. Just in case.”
Wilder slips two more knives into the sheaths at my hip.
“What about you?”
His smile grows as his eyes flicker. Embers at the start of a fire, daring the realm to withstand the heat. My skin prickles as his magic grows around him. Wild strikes of lightning flash in the night.
“Not lightning,” he reminds me, and he’s right.
Aether is much stronger. As unpredictable as the wielder. A force that steals my breath, no matter how many times I play witness to it.
“Show-off.” I shake my head when another echo of thunder rumbles through Solace.
Wilder’s chuckle is the last thing I hear as he moves us back a step and the Gateway takes us.