Chapter Fourteen
I lost myself and track of time staring at the night sky.
Nothing else could ever matter as much as this. This amazing, miraculous thing—this universe.
The navy blanket of space lies littered with platinum, gold, and red stars and planets. Swirls of deep purples, magentas, and greens smudge themselves against the blue. Billows of clouds far beyond my reach.
The sight causes my chest to tighten, making it hard to breathe.
Seeing the night sky through the veil could never compare to this.
There, it had been black and gray—much of the actual depth, the actual colors lost.
Here, good gods, here it’s otherworldly.
My love for the night sky had been borne within the veil, but seeing it here, in its true form, I’m left speechless. Consumed by the shimmering stars and low hanging moon, my body forces me to gasp for air.
Countless times I’ve dreamed of standing here, seeing this.
Not once did I believe it would become real.
My vision grows watery and I sink to my knees, staring up.
Blinking through the vision-blurring sting, a hot trail of tears slide down my cheeks. Tears of mourning mixed with tears of astonishment. Everything I’ve endured and everything sacrificed in the end—all for this.
Centuries of my harrowed existence begin to feel lifetimes away. Trembling hands find their way to my face, wiping away the tears that continue to fall in silence.
This is everything I’d yearned for.
And it’s cost me everything I know.
Vaelyn.
Ylara.
The library.
A limitless innate.
And the security of a known devil—traded for an unknown one. For the promise of being in control of my own life, of my own body, of my own decisions.
At least, for a time.
My mind screams with sorrow as my heart thunders in joy. A confusing juxtaposition to find oneself experiencing. A sob rakes through me, squeezing my lungs and I gasp again, but I refuse to take my eyes from the stars. I’ve done the impossible, and this is my reward.
Eventually, I will have to return to Netharis.
I still hold a contract.
Escaping to the living realm simply puts his contract on hold. My death will reinstate the binding terms of the contract upon my soul. Nothing in the contract mentions its power or expectations upon me as a living creature—he never anticipated my escape.
I laugh, a bitter sound.
Even if I were to return to the hells this instant, I am forever changed. Ruined, in Netharis’ eyes. I’ll never be what he wants me to be, not after today. Not after this.
No, with careful planning and calculations, dozens of centuries will come to pass before I stand before him again. I’ll have lived a fulfilling life worthy of enduring the eternity of servitude that awaits me upon my return.
With a tear-streaked face, I laugh again, this time with disbelief, and sit back on my legs. My hands fall into my lap as I continue to stare, pondering the limitless choices lying before me.
“Are you hurt?” a deep male voice asks quietly.
Head swiveling to the left faster than light, the black-cloaked male I’d seen in the hallway stands several feet away, his hood now raised.
His face hidden by the night and shadow, he takes a step closer but stops abruptly, as if he’s unsure of how to approach.
He stands at the edge of the shadows cast by the canopy of the nearby tree, out of reach.
Perhaps a wiser decision than he realizes.
Judging by his build, he is no human man.
He is fae. Not dressed in temple robes, he wears black—fine attire by the looks of it.
Even in the dark, the amount of detail in his clothing is clear.
A black button down shirt, adorned with silver stitching along the collar and cuff in a swirling ivy motif.
The clasp holding his cloak in place is constructed of a filigreed silver.
Images of the fae on the stairs the night I met Celesta flash in my mind.
He was there.
Laughing with embarrassment, I wipe the tears from my face.
“No, not hurt. Thank you,” I return quietly. “I find myself admiring the night sky. I thought I was alone.”
“I didn’t mean to intrude, forgive me,” he responds, bowing his head. A sign of respect that catches me by surprise.
His voice sounds familiar, like one I’ve heard hundreds of times. But different—and I’m sure it has to do with these fae ears.
“Nothing to forgive.” I smile weakly. “I shouldn’t be crying like this anyway.”
As I begin to pull myself up, he closes the distance quickly, extending a hand. An offer of assistance.
I pause and stare. A generosity not commonly offered by my own kind.
Raising my eyes to his hooded face, I set my hand in his. The warmth of his skin races right toward my heart as his fingers clasp around my hand. Gently, he helps me to my feet.
His hand falls away as he steps back, reclaiming the distance between us, and immediately I’m left mourning the warmth.
Turning my face to the night sky once again, I ask, “Are you here to enjoy the celebration? Celesta has accepted a few new initiates.”
The fae chuckles. “I brought a friend here who wished to attend. I was leaving when I noticed you and wanted to make sure you were alright.”
Another kindness not often given by my own kind.
“I saw you earlier, in the hallway.” I smile, a surprisingly genuine smile. “Your friend seemed particularly excited to be attending.”
“You’ll meet her soon enough,” he says, the smile on his face clear in his voice. “Enjoy your evening. Don’t lose yourself in the stars, little witch. Not yet.”
My eyes slide in his direction as he strides off into the dark, toward the sanctum end of the garden. Turning, I watch him until he vanishes through the doors.
As a slight breeze kicks up, the male’s scent reaches me, and on instinct I breathe deep. It’s a decadent smoky scent I can’t label, but it reminds me of a lived-in library in the middle of the night, the only light coming from the fireplace.
My chest tightens, and my hands fly to my neck. There’s a strange tug in my chest, as if I’m being beckoned to follow, to be close. It’s not a cold demand like the hunting instinct, but a gentle urge that buries itself into my being.
What kind of strange faerie magic is this?
Before I’m able to throw myself into the thought seeking an answer to the question, Eve’s laughter catches my attention.
“There you are!” she calls from behind, and I whirl around on my toes.
“We thought you’d gotten lost!” Cora adds from beside Eve. “All that’s left is the Weaving, and then you’re officially a temple member.”
“Twice now the Weaving has been mentioned today, and twice now no one has explained what it is,” I counter with a cool stare.
Eve shoots me a devilish grin. “It’s the opportunity to dance and drink and have a good time.”
“The dance weaves you into the family!” Cora adds gleefully, throwing her arms out emphatically. “I adore the Weaving. It’s where Eve and I met five years ago.” She takes Eve’s arm, giving it an affectionate squeeze.
“I have a weakness for timid little human women,” Eve says with a smirk.
Staring at Eve and Cora with curiosity, I wonder the kind of scrutiny they endure considering the history between humans and fae.
I’d heard of fae-human pairings, none of them pleasant in the history books I’ve read.
Humans possess the ability to reproduce with nearly any creature: fae, demon, vampire, dwarves, elves to name a few.
Their offspring demi or half breeds. For a time, humans were hunted and kept in herds for this.
I resist the demonic urge to ask bluntly.
“Come on,” Eve urges with a grin as she grabs my arm. Cora grabs my other. “You can’t spend the entire night hiding in the shadows.”
“Let me prove you wrong,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
Both Eve and Cora hear my words and laugh as they begin pulling me toward the sanctum end of the gardens.
A large congregation of members, a mixture of black and silver robes, stand with their hoods now lowered, chatting and drinking with one another.
Within the mixed crowd the eight others robed in white are easy to spot.
Magelights float above them, creating a silvery, shifting light as they sway in the breeze.
The sounds of their conversations grow clearer as we draw near, their laughter floating through the garden.
To the right of the gathering, a few temple members begin playing on stringed instruments and drums, filling the air with upbeat, joyous music.
This is unlike any gathering I’d ever attended in the hells.
No fighting, no debauchery, no orgies.
“You look like you’re about to be sick,” Cora notes, keeping her voice low.
“It’s been a while since I’ve attended a social gathering,” I answer truthfully as my eyes sweep over the crowd.
“We’ll get through the Weaving and we can leave.” Cora gives my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Not that I think anyone will, but if someone says or does something to offend you, I’m sure Eve will have no issue taking care of it.”
Eve laughs and gives me a playful wink. “I doubt you’ll need me to protect you from anything.”
Throwing Eve a glance I say, “I might. My innate feels stifled here.”
“We all have limits on our innate, some higher than others, but it can be worked on,” Eve replies with a firm nod. “If you want, we can work on that together in the morning.”
The offer, I know, is meant in earnest. Yet another kindness no demon would ever think to bestow.
But the thought of taking innate lessons from a mortal causes me to recoil internally.
The audacity of a fae female believing she can teach me anything about magic rubs me the wrong way rather aggressively.
My silence on the matter is a returned kindness, whether she realizes it or not.
As we walk through the gathering, multiple sets of eyes land in my direction. Faces turn, conversations hush, and I feel a burning in my cheeks. This has to be the result of them seeing my silver blood—or perhaps it’s because I’m a walking clone of their matron goddess.