C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N
C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N
Altair
I see the panic flicker across her face, and it only stokes the fire in my chest.
The shadows feed off my emotions, swirling tighter, darker, as they creep closer to her legs. I want her to squirm. I want her to feel the same burn I’m feeling.
“T-that’s really none of your business,” she stammers, her voice trembling.
I lean forward, my eyes locking onto hers, the darkness in them swirling like a storm. “Oh, I think it is, love,” I whisper, my voice rough. “After all, you are my queen and wife, so perhaps I should know who has spent time between those lovely thighs of yours.”
Her gasp is delicious, before she clamps her mouth shut. I glance quickly at Iolas, who stares pointedly at the table, his face tight with discomfort. But I don’t care. I want to know. I need to know.
“Well?” I ask again, my voice low and dangerous. A tendril of shadow slips higher, brushing the back of her knee.
“It was the baker’s boy!” she blurts out, her leg jerking as the shadows retreat slightly.
I narrow my eyes, taking in her flushed face, her wide eyes. “The baker’s boy?” I repeat, disbelief colouring my voice.
Her cheeks flush even deeper, and she nods quickly. “It was years ago, when I used to sneak into the city after dark. He never knew who I really was. I’m assuming he still doesn’t.”
I feel Iolas shift beside me, but I don’t look at him. My focus is entirely on her—on the way her breath quickens, the way her chest rises and falls with each rapid inhale. My shadows retreat slightly, giving her some space, but they linger just beneath the surface, waiting.
“Did he look after you?” Iolas asks, his voice soft, serious.
Olwyn blinks, her throat working as she swallows. “He did. He was gentle.”
My jaw tightens, the shadows curling possessively around me, but I force them back. Past the jealousy, I am glad there was someone who was her choice. Someone who didn’t take something else from her. I force myself to breathe.
“Very well,” I say, though my voice is strained. “He may live.”
Iolas snorts, but quickly quiets Olwyn glares at me, her defiance sparking again.
“He was gentle many times,” she says with a coy smile.
The room goes deathly quiet. Iolas’s laugh fades as I stare at her, my nostrils flaring, shadows flickering wildly around me.
“Many times?” I repeat, my voice soft, dangerously so.
“Yes,” she nods, her eyes locked on mine, and something inside me snaps.
I stand abruptly, the force of my movement causing the table to shake, the cutlery rattling in the sudden stillness. Iolas murmurs my name under his breath, but I don’t care. I’m done with this conversation. I’m done with her testing me, though I know it’s my jealousy riding me.
“I will not have my queen reminiscing about another man's touch,” I say, my voice firm, my body rigid. The shadows ripple in response, moving faster now.
Olwyn meets my gaze, the fire in her own burning, but I can see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She’s testing me, pushing boundaries she doesn’t even realise are there.
“It was before I even knew you.”
“That does not matter,” I snap, taking a step towards her, my mind irrational. “We are together now, and I will not share you with a man in your memories.”
The fire blazes in her eyes, and I know I sound ridiculous.
“You asked!” She shoots back, not even flinching.
“You will forget him, Olwyn,” I say, leaning down and taking a gentle hold of her chin, my heart skipping at touching her. “I want you to forget every touch, every whisper. Do you understand?”
She wants to fight me. I can see it. And that hunter instinct inside is screaming for it.
Fight me. Please, fight me.
Her voice comes out steady, but fierce. “No. You may have some control over my present. But you don’t control my past. So, if I want to, I’ll hold onto those fond memories closely.”
She holds my gaze, refusing to move even when a shade tickles over the skin of her wrist.
The tension thickens between us, but something sharp claws at my insides, cutting through the fire of my anger. And I know my blue eye has darkened.
Her eyes widen, like she’s come to a realisation, and she leans in slightly, tilting her head. “You’re jealous,” she says, her voice low but clear, daring me to deny it.
And I can’t. I find I don’t want to. I want her to know that I am jealous.
That I crave that part of her. Crave her against me, under me, riding me.
Rein it in.
My grip on her chin tightens slightly, but the flicker in her eyes tells me she knows she has hit the mark.
Jealousy. Pure and raw.
And now she sees that I want her.
“Jealous?” I repeat, my voice low and tight, the words edged with something raw. My gaze drops to her lips, lingering there for a moment too long before snapping back to her eyes, my jaw clenching and teeth aching. “Yes. I’m jealous.”
I can feel the desire coursing through me, stronger than ever. It’s a dangerous mix of jealousy, possessiveness, and lust, all swirling together, threatening to overwhelm my control. I’m barely holding on, the shadows feeding off my emotions, growing darker, hungrier.
I let go of her chin, my hand dropping to my side as I take a step back. She watches me, her eyes wide, uncertain, and something about the way she looks at me—so vulnerable, so unsure—makes me want to pull her back into my arms, to reassure her that she is mine and no one else’s.
But I don’t.
Not yet.
“May I be excused?” Her voice is steady, but I can hear the tremble beneath the surface. “I’d like to return to my chambers.”
I don’t stop her. I know I want to, but I need space, too. Space to cool off, to clear my head before I do something rash. Something I can’t take back.
“You don’t need to ask, Olwyn,” I say, my voice a little too rough, but I force myself to stay composed, to hold back the storm brewing inside me.
She nods and stands, giving a quick glance to Iolas, who looks just as conflicted as I feel. He offers her a small smile, reassuring her in a way that I can’t right now. Not when I’m on the verge of losing control.
Two new guards—ones I have chosen myself and trust to escort her properly into her room—peel away from the double doors to join her. As she turns to leave, I can’t help myself.
“And Olwyn,” I call after her.
She stops, turning to look at me, her eyes filled with confusion and something else… something raw.
“If you find yourself craving a touch a little less gentle,” I say, my voice dropping to a low growl, “you need only ask.”
Her eyes widen, a flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, but she doesn’t say anything. She just nods once, her lips parting slightly before she turns and leaves the room.
The moment she’s gone, I feel the weight of Iolas’s gaze on me.
“Al…” he begins, his voice low, cautious. I can hear the warning in his tone, the concern.
I don’t look at him.
Instead, I take a deep breath, forcing the shadows to retreat, pulling them back inside me, reigning in the darkness that still claws at the edges of my control. I can’t afford to lose it now. Not when I’m so close to unravelling everything.
“What the fuck are you doing, Al?” Iolas finally asks, his voice tight with frustration. He doesn’t sound angry, though. Just... worried.
I turn to him, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, I see it. He knows what I’m feeling. The guilt. The shame. The regret. He knows I’m torn between wanting to protect her and wanting to claim her. And he knows that it’s tearing me apart.
But I don’t have the answers. Not now. Not when everything is so tangled, so messy. When my own feelings are a knot I can’t seem to untangle.
“I can’t lose her,” I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper.
Iolas’s eyes soften, his posture relaxing slightly as he takes a seat across from me. “We’re not going to lose her, Al,” he says quietly. “But you’ve gotta be careful. She’s still figuring things out. She’s… fragile.”
Fragile.
The word grates against my nerves, and the shadows flicker in response, like they’re reacting to the idea of her being anything less than strong. Anything less than resilient.
“She’s not fragile,” I snap, my voice harsher than I intend. “She’s stronger than you think.”
“I know that,” Iolas says quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. “But she’s also human, Al. And you’ve gotta remember that. You can’t treat her like one of us. When she finds out about Atha and everything… it’s gonna be a lot.”
I run a hand through my hair, frustration gnawing at my insides. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make this any easier.
“I just…” I trail off, unsure of how to articulate what I’m feeling. How do I explain that I want to protect her, but I also want her? That I crave her in ways that scare me because it’s not just about her blood, it’s about her—her strength, her fire, her defiance.
Iolas watches me for a long moment, then sighs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re in deep, aren’t you?”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. He knows.
“It’s because I remember,” I whisper, my mind drifting back.
Bright green eyes, a blinding white light. Destruction everywhere. For a moment, there’s only silence between us, until I shake the memories away.
The shadows have calmed, retreating into the corners of the room, no longer feeding off my emotions. But I can feel them waiting, always ready to surge forward at the slightest provocation.
Iolas stands, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Just… don’t push her too hard, too fast…”
“I won’t,” I cut him off, my voice firm. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.
He gives me a nod, his hand squeezing my shoulder briefly before he turns to leave. But before he steps out of the room, he pauses.
“By the way,” he says, glancing back at me with a smirk. “If you ever decide to try that knife plaything... let me know how it goes.”
I glare at him, but he just chuckles and disappears through the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
And the shadows.
I sink into the chair, resting my head in my hands.
All I can think about is her.
Olwyn.
My queen.
My wife.
The desire... it’s overwhelming. It’s like an ache that never goes away, a hunger that deepens the more I see her, the more I hear her voice, the more she exists in the same world as me. She’s everything I never knew I needed, and it terrifies me. Because I know if I fall too deeply, too quickly, I’ll lose myself in her. And once I do, I’ll be lost .
I’m not afraid of wanting her. I’m afraid of what it will do to me when I realise I can’t live without her. That if I let myself care, let myself get too close, she’ll tear my heart out the moment she knows the truth—or worse, she’ll be taken from me.