Chapter Twenty-One
VIOLET
After the trip into the capital, the warmth of spring fades by the day, replaced by a chill and the scent of ice on the wind. Frost spreads, reaching its long fingers over the world beyond my window.
This morning, I woke for the first time since, to find that relentless exhaustion has finally released its relentless hold on me.
That day in the city sparked the worst episode yet. It worries me that they are escalating after years of consistency. I know I will not last much longer.
Everything that happened is nothing more than a collection of fractured words and sounds and images. I can still feel the numbing sensation of death clawing at my heart. My throat tightens at the memory.
The last clear thing I can recall before Joon healed me was a shock of pain striking the back of my head. It held the charge of lightning moments before a strike, seizing control of every muscle.
Dark figures… so many of them. Moving in and out of focus, dividing and multiplying. Voices speaking in harsh whispers. But one stood out, different from the rest—haughty, formal.
“Take care… not… second chance… rewarded.”
“You have… pleasure…”
Low laughter surrounds me from all directions.
Retreating footsteps pause. “Mess this… or you will… it.”
“…up!” A harsh shout.
Rough hands grab at my arms. A sharp sting across my face. Then prickling power sinks through my skin like a thousand hot needles—nothing like the feel of Joon’s magic.
It’s wrong—all of this is wrong.
My heart squeezes so hard it feels as though it will shatter.
I fall to my hands and knees and dry heave. My lungs struggle to work. Gasping. I claw uselessly at my chest with one hand.
“… doing?” a woman growls. “Not…, you’re… her. Idiot!”
“Not… fault. She’s doing…”
A vicious tug yanks my head back, holding it at a painful angle, then up to my feet toward a blurry face shining like the moon in the shadows. A shouted command. A large hand wraps around my throat, sending another wave of magic into me that feels like a thousand bees stinging all over.
Joon’s voice rings out. I’m released, barely catching myself before I collapse to the foul-smelling ground.
They are arguing… but I can’t understand them through this endless, unbearable pain that threatens to consume my mind for good. An inferno burns through my veins, setting my heart on fire.
In the shadows of my waning consciousness, I feel it. Claws, scraping up my body. Inch by inch, numbing my skin. My muscles. Working its way through me to remove all feeling. It is worse than the agony because I know it’s death coming to claim me.
Cold metal presses against my neck, leaving a stinging trail in its wake. The hand keeping me upright releases me without warning. I drop to my knees, catching myself with my hands.
Darkness crowds in on the edges of my vision. I try to see what’s happening, but it only causes my stomach to lurch. It forces me to focus on the pinprick of light reflecting off the small, rancid puddle beside my hand.
My head buzzes, muffling the shouts. Making the thuds and cracking sounds of the fight sound far away.
Joon wraps his arms around me, then the soothing sensation of his power washes over me, cooling the fire that threatens to consume me from the inside out and washing away the foreign power from the other fae man. Feeling returns to my body. I can finally breathe again.
I shudder and push the memory away. Resting over the last several days has helped rid me of the fatigue and remaining aches that even Joon’s power couldn’t heal.
The books from that day are stacked neatly atop the dresser under the window. Three on healing with common plants found in the wild, another two on gardening plants for healing, and two volumes on all known illnesses, their symptoms, and causes, with another on rare maladies.
I brush my fingers over the top book’s buttery soft leather cover. They should be a horrible reminder of what happened, but they aren’t. When I look at them, I see the beauty of the expansive bookstore—how so many books were pieces of art themselves—the reason we went into the city….
And Joon.
He said to call each other husband and wife. A role we play for the public, the same one we play for everyone within the palace. I hadn’t expected him to watch me as a doting husband might.
Then again, it made sense when he paid. I was about to offer to reimburse him when the owner made casual conversation regarding our new marriage bond. It was so painfully awkward that all I could do was pretend not to hear.
Outside, a snowflake drifts past the leaded glass. Then, more and more. Within moments, the sky looks as if it’s sprinkling powdered sugar over everything.
Winter is returning. But seasons do not reverse, which can only mean one thing—the Winter Dragon stirs, slowly waking. I can’t help worrying about Joon. He must be struggling to contain it.
Guilt settles on my shoulders, weighing me down.
He must need to siphon, or this wouldn’t be happening. Why hasn’t he sent for me yet?
Perhaps he doesn’t realize I’ve recovered yet. I should let him know. But it’s late. Iseul left for the night an hour ago. It would be rude to intrude on the little time she has for herself just to ask her to deliver a message for me.
His apartments are not far. It will only take a few minutes, and I’d prefer to do it myself anyway.
Besides, I want to see how he is doing. And should he need to siphon, I will already be there.
Setting my jaw, I cross over to the wardrobe to grab a nicer dress and quickly change.
When I emerge, there is a folded piece of parchment on the floor. The messenger must have slipped it inside when I didn’t respond.
The message is only a single sentence.
Meet me at the Garden of Stars.
I take pride in my handwriting, but Joon’s neat, elegant script puts mine to shame.
At least now I know where to find him. Setting the note on a narrow stand beside the door, I reach for my cloak and wrap it around my shoulders.
My hand hovers inches from the door when a series of light taps against the window behind me demands my attention. I turn in time to see a dark figure, made indistinguishable by the layer of frost coating the glass, hastily duck out of sight.
A moment later, the shape reappears. Again, tapping. The figure presses closer to the frost-coated edge of the glass. Red eyes peer in, large and blinking.
Demon.
How? There are wards all around the palace, as well as over each court.
I run to the window, intending to get a better look to be absolutely sure before alerting anyone.
The demon makes a yelp of surprise and… falls backward in a strangely familiar way.
Pressing my face to the icy pane, I peer down and confirm I wasn’t imagining a demon. They are sprawled on their back. Their dark body is a stark contrast against the snow-powdered ground.
Could this be the demon presence the prince warned me about?
Hesitantly, I slide the window open. The demon scrambles to their feet, whimpering like an injured animal.
Are all small demons so uncoordinated?
If this is the presence Joon mentioned, then they most likely got past the wards by hitching a ride on a carriage.
It’s not worth making a fuss over one demon who can barely get around without hurting themselves to the guards. They appear harmless enough, but I’m not in the habit of taking unnecessary chances, so I will mention it to Joon when I see him.
“Go away,” I hiss, waving a hand in a shooing motion, then snap the window shut and lock it.
Not wanting to make the prince wait longer, I hurry out into the hall and make my way through the enclosed areas toward the Central Court.
In addition to the guards stationed strategically that I pass along the way, there are a handful of servants who still move about during the late hours. They all either ignore me entirely or bow in greeting.
Three female servants whisper as I pass, loud enough for me to overhear. I recognize one as being part of the group sent to ready me for the bonding ceremony.
“Yes, but the storms have been less frequent,” one says.
“I knew the seventh was lucky!” the other replies with a high-pitched lilt.
Even if I couldn’t hear, the way their eyes locked on me makes it obvious that I’m the subject of their conversation.
Rounding another corner, I come to the Garden of Stars. Two guards stationed at the entrance bow their heads as they let me through.
The door slides shut behind me, and I feel as if I’ve been transported to a different world.
The warm, humid air leaves a film of foggy condensation on the dome’s glass squares. There is a break in the clouds overhead, and the blurry stars look like thousands of fireflies.
Hundreds of crystal lanterns hang on strings in zig-zagging patterns all along the main path, lit for my arrival.
I open my mouth to call out, nearly using Joon’s name without his title, before I stop myself. I can’t be sure we are alone.
“Your Highness?” The title feels clunky on my tongue. My voice is hampered by the labyrinth of plants.
When there’s no reply, I meander further in, peering into the various alcoves until I get to the bridge that curves over the narrow stream.
I suppose it is possible I got here before him.
A whirl of cold air slips over me in a stark contrast to the warmth I’ve grown used to.
“My Prince?” I call out.
A man’s voice, muffled by the thick vegetation, comes from near the outer edge of the garden. There’s a haunting quality to it that makes me think Joon is in a worse state than I thought.
This better not be some misguided attempt to downplay the severity of it by distracting me with a nighttime stroll through the garden.
I hurry in that direction. The chill in the air continues to increase with every step, and I soon realize why.
Joon has left the door leading to the outer garden propped open with a sturdy marble figure about knee-high and thick enough to withstand the weight of the door pressing against it. The light snowfall has already stopped.
Making sure the prop is firmly in place before inching out a little way, I open my mouth to call to the prince when I hear his voice again from further out.
The path continues from the inner garden, lit solely by moonlight. After a few steps, I hesitate, looking back. The door is as I left it, and despite the demon at my window, the howl of any others is entirely absent.
Warm light flickers through a crystal topiary just ahead, and I smile. The prince, more than anyone, will probably appreciate the solitude and privacy of such a place. Especially given the nature of his situation.
I step on a patch of half-melted snow that has refrozen. The crunch feels obtrusive in the quiet. Joon stirs from where he waits.
The snow crunches again. Except, I haven’t moved. Slowly, I turn to look over my shoulder. There are no shadows or movements of anyone nearby. There’s nothing out of the ordinary.
My imagination is getting the better of me.
No amount of wards is enough to undo a lifetime of avoiding the night when the closest thing humans have are the gas streetlamps we light every evening.
Right as I take the first step around the topiary, a hulking figure lunges out from behind it. I flinch away and fall hard on my ass.
I drag my gaze up, finding myself face to face with a demon half my height and the bulk of a horse prowling closer.
Burning, molten eyes that pierce the dark, and rows of razor-sharp teeth jutting out at all angles are all I can focus on.
Long, taloned fingers clack over the stone path, emphasizing their deadly points.
Survival instinct, honed over the years, kicks in. I scramble to my feet and race back the way I came. Adrenaline dulls the ache rooted in my chest.
Before I’m halfway back to the door, it slams shut. The prop is on the ground inside, rocking back and forth, too far away to have naturally fallen on its own.
Still, I keep running in the hopes that one of the guards heard and will come check.
I lurch to the side as another demon leaps from the shadows at my right, then another to my left. The tapping of their sharp talons joins that of the first demon to create an unsettling death march.
I try to scream and call for help, but I can’t take a breath deep enough.
I don’t stop until I slam into the door. I tug with every bitch of strength I can muster. It doesn’t budge. Locked.
Demon shit.
My heart contracts painfully as I pound my fists against the door, desperately hoping that someone… anyone, will hear.
A low, rumbling growl has every muscle along my spine tensing from its nearness. I whirl, pressing my back against the door.
Knowing they have their prey cornered, the demons converge slowly, drawing out their hunt. They pause several yards away, shifting their powerful muscles.
I glance around, searching desperately for anything I can use to defend myself or create light, but the grounds are kept immaculate.
The pain of yet another episode comes on faster this time. Tears of anger and frustration burn my eyes. Loathing washes over me stronger than anything I have ever experienced. An emotion I’ve never felt but understand at once.
Demon shit. After all this time—after everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve endured, this is what will kill me—demons.
Useless.
If it weren’t for my weak body and broken heart, I would like to believe I stood a chance at getting away. Or, at the very least, I could die fighting instead of helpless and gasping, unable to draw a full breath.
I’ve spent so many years pretending as if my broken heart only shortened my life. That I wasn’t trapped in a weak body, and if I tried hard enough, I could do anything.
No matter what I did, I could not make myself strong.
I curse this body of mine for betraying me.
Clenching my fists at my side until my nails dig into my palms, I straighten and face the demons.
When I don’t attack, they grow braver. The center one prowls closer, reaching out to claw at my skirt.
I kick at them. They recoil, only to realize just how helpless I am a second later.
Cruel smiles spread over the three skull-like faces.
I try to call Joon’s name, but all that comes out is a harsh rasp.
The first demon coils their body, muscles bunching over elongated limbs, ready to pounce. The two others follow the cue. A horrible rumbling builds in their throats.
With a howl, they shift their weight, then leap.