Chapter 27
Chapter twenty-seven
Briar's legs trembled with each step back toward the residence, muscles she'd forgotten existed screaming in protest. The second day of lessons had gone better—she'd managed to stay on during a canter for almost a full circuit of the courtyard before losing her balance.
Progress, but hardly mastery. In two days, she'd gone from complete terror to merely moderate fear, which would have to be enough.
Eliam had stayed behind to return Phaeon to the stables and speak with Thaine about route preparations.
He’d sent her to their rooms to rest and she'd been grateful for the solitude, needing time to process the strange mix of accomplishment and inadequacy.
She could ride now, barely, but the thought of navigating the corrupted paths of the Wildwood still made her uneasy.
Lost in thought, she rounded a corner too quickly and collided with someone coming the other way. Strong hands caught her arms, steadying her before she could fall backward, and she found herself staring up into Arion's startled face.
For a moment, neither moved. His hands were warm through her sleeves, his chest close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. The last time they'd been this close, his lips had been on hers, breaking Malus's compulsion with desperate intensity.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't—" she started.
"Are you hurt?" he asked at the same time.
They both stopped. His hands were still on her arms, and she could see something shift in his expression—a flicker of uncertainty that looked strange on someone usually so composed.
He released her and stepped back, the careful distance feeling more significant than it should.
"How are the preparations going?" she asked, defaulting to safe ground.
"Well enough." His tone was neutral, controlled. "Everyone's gathered what they need. Sian's been practicing corruption cleansing. Halian's reviewing ward construction theory."
"And you?"
"I was just heading to the vaults. To retrieve the star metal weapons." He paused, something crossing his face that she couldn't read. "Would you like to come? You should see what we'll be working with."
She nodded, curious despite the awkwardness. He turned and led the way through corridors she hadn't explored before, their footsteps echoing off crystalline walls that gradually gave way to stone as they descended.
"I didn't think the Star Court had underground spaces," she said, trying to fill the weighted silence.
"Even the brightest lights cast shadows," Arion replied. "We keep our dangerous things below."
There was something in his tone that made her want to ask more, but they'd arrived at a heavy door marked with symbols that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
Arion pressed his hand against the wood, and his light flared briefly. The symbols responded, glowing white before the door swung open silently.
The vault beyond was small, circular, with walls of polished white stone. In the center stood a display holding four weapons that seemed to pull at her attention. They gleamed with an inner light that had nothing to do with Arion's magic—something cold and distant, like starlight on winter snow.
Two swords, long and elegant, their blades inscribed with patterns etched into their surfaces, a glaive with a wicked curved blade that seemed to slice the air around it, and a pair of twin daggers, smaller but no less mesmerizing, their handles wrapped in what looked like silver wire.
"Star metal," Arion said quietly. "Forged with fragments of metal that fell from beyond the sky. The Unseelie can’t tolerate even the smallest amount, it burns them, disrupts their very essence."
Briar stepped closer, drawn despite herself. The weapons were beautiful in an alien way, but there was something else that caught her eye. Set into the wall above the display was a pendant—a starburst design with fragments of the same strange metal woven throughout.
"What's that?" she asked.
Arion followed her gaze. "A protection amulet.
One of the last made before we ran out of sufficient star metal for forging.
" He moved to retrieve the weapons, carefully lifting each one.
"It was meant for royalty, but never worn.
Star metal is... uncomfortable for most fae.
We can wield it briefly, but prolonged contact burns. "
"Then how—"
"We'll manage," he said, but she noticed he was already wrapping the sword hilts in thick leather. "The corruption is far worse than a little discomfort."
He reached for the pendant last, hesitating before taking it from its setting. Tiny crystals embedded in the metal caught the light, throwing prismatic patterns across the walls.
"Here," he said, turning to her with it in his outstretched hand. "You should wear this."
"I couldn't—you just said it was meant for royalty."
"You're the only one of us who can wear it without pain." His expression was serious. "You're not fae, even if fae magic lives inside you. The star metal won't burn you the way it would us. And you'll need every protection we can offer."
She took it carefully, surprised by how light it was. The metal felt cool against her palm, almost pleasant, with none of the burning he'd described.
"Let me," Arion said, moving behind her to fasten the chain around her neck.
His fingers brushed her nape as he worked the clasp, and she felt him pause, his breath warm against her hair. The touch lingered longer than necessary, and when he spoke, his voice had dropped to something lower than she was used to from him.
"About what happened that night at the border—"
"You saved me," she said quickly. "I'm grateful."
"Grateful." He finished with the clasp but didn't step away. Instead, his hands settled on her shoulders, holding her in place. "Is that what you felt when I kissed you? Gratitude?"
The directness of the question startled her. This wasn't like Arion, he was usually careful, respectful of boundaries.
"I—" She tried to turn, but his hands tightened slightly, keeping her facing away.
"The warmth responded to me," he continued, and there was something almost possessive in his tone that reminded her unsettlingly of Eliam. "It reached for me like it was desperate. Like it recognized something in me that it needed."
Now she did turn, his hands falling away, and found his expression intense in a way she'd never seen before. The usual controlled calm was cracking, something hungrier showing through.
"Arion—"
"He's manipulating you." The words came out flat, certain. "The marks, the blood bargain, the way he's isolated you—you think you're choosing him, but are you? Really?"
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?" He stepped closer, backing her against the display case.
"When was the last time you made a decision he didn't influence? When was the last time you were away from him long enough to think clearly? His essence lives inside of you. Did you ever think that if it wasn’t there, you wouldn’t be so easily swayed? "
Her back hit the cold stone, and he braced his hands on either side of her, caging her in. The light around him flickered erratically, not the steady glow she was used to but something sharper, almost aggressive.
"You're scaring me," she said quietly.
Something flickered across his face, surprise, maybe, or recognition, but it was quickly replaced by that unsettling intensity.
"Good," he said. "You should be scared. Of him. Of what he's turning you into. His possession, his thing." His hand rose to touch the pendant where it rested against her chest. "You deserve better than being someone's property."
"And what would I be with you?" The question came out sharper than intended.
"Mine." The word escaped before he seemed to catch himself, and she saw him blink, confusion crossing his features as if he wasn't sure why he'd said it. He stepped back abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "That's not—I didn't mean—"
"You sounded like him just then," Briar said, studying his face. "Exactly like him."
Arion's expression grew darker. "I'm nothing like him."
But even as he said it, she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.
Something was changing in him, something he didn't understand any more than she did.
The usual warmth of his light had taken on an edge, and the way he looked at her now—possessive, hungry, determined—was far from the gentle patience she'd come to expect.
"When he hurts you again," Arion said, his voice dropping back to that darker register, "and he will, because it's what he does—I won't pretend to be noble about it.
I won't wait patiently or respect your space.
" He moved close again, though not quite as aggressively as before.
"I'll take you away from him. Make you see what you could have with me instead. "
"That doesn't sound like a choice."
"Neither does staying with someone who throws you to the wolves on a whim." His hand rose to her throat, fingers ghosting over the autumn marks. "Who marked you like property. Who would rather see you dead than free."
The warmth in her chest pulsed, pulling toward him with an intensity that made her gasp. His eyes widened, and she felt him lean into it, drawn by the same force.
"It wants me," he said softly, wonder and satisfaction mixing in his voice. "Whatever you want to call it, whatever it is—it recognizes me as much as it recognizes him."
"Why?" The question escaped before she could stop it. "Why both of you?"
"I don't know." His thumb traced along her jaw. "But I intend to find out. And when I do—"
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Arion stepped back so quickly she almost stumbled, his court mask sliding back into place with visible effort. But she could still see it—the darkness lurking at the edges, the hunger he was trying to control.
"We should go," he said, his tone forcibly neutral as he gathered the wrapped weapons. "The others will be waiting."