chapter thirty-one
elysia
The fire burns low and steady, the last of its embers painting the room in shades of gold and amber light. The air smells of smoke and sweat, the faint tang of magic still humming against my skin.
We’re tangled on the couch… if it can even be called that anymore.
The whole damn thing is scorched from my fire, and torn where my nails dug in for leverage.
My head rests on Kaden’s thigh, his fingers absently threading through my hair, slow and unhurried.
Every pass of his touch sends a ripple through the bond, a soft echo of his calm brushing against my own exhausted quiet.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The crackle of the fire fills the silence, and I think back to my conversation with Sirena, deciding right now would be the perfect moment to prod into the darkness that is Kaden Reinheart.
I exhale slowly, tilting my head up. “What’s your favourite colour?”
A low chuckle rumbles through his chest. “Gods, sex really scrambles your head, doesn’t it?”
I scoff, shifting just enough to glare up at him. “I’m serious.”
“I can tell.” He smirks, thumb brushing a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “Why do you want to know?”
“Sirena said I didn’t really know you,” I admit, watching the flames dance in the hearth. “And she’s right. I know what The Council says about you, what everyone whispers about the big, bad warrior mage Kaden Reinheart… but I don’t know you.”
He’s quiet for several heartbeats, his hand still tangled in my hair. Then a ripple of thought brushes against my own through the bond before he can pull it back.
I never thought to choose a favourite colour before. It never mattered.
Not until I looked into a pair of sharp blue eyes flecked with shards of the moon, and realised the cosmos could steal your breath and still be beautiful.
Not until I saw dark blue hair, moonlight kissing the night and realised darkness didn’t have to be empty.
Somewhere between the way her hair caught the light and her eyes undid me, I learned colour did matter.
I had just never found one that could turn suffocating into devotion.
“Blue.” He whispers.
I tilt my head to look at him. “Blue?”
He hums in response and nods slowly.
I roll my eyes slightly, feigning indifference even as heat crawls up my neck. “Your thoughts are loud, you know that?”
He chuckles faintly, running his fingers back through my hair. “What about you? What’s your favourite colour?”
I give him a pointed look. “You really have to ask?”
He smiles… actually smiles. Bright and genuine, and the sight makes something inside me melt. “Of course, how silly of me. It’s obviously green.”
“Blue,” I correct, the corner of my mouth twitching.
He leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead, his laughter low. “I know.”
A soft silence follows, easy and comfortable. I trace idle shapes across his thigh with my fingertip before speaking again. “Do you like tea or coffee?”
He groans quietly like I’ve offended him. “Coffee. Gods, I love coffee. Strong, black and bitter. Tea tastes like leaf soup, a boiled disappointment.”
I gasp in mock offence, sitting up halfway to face him. “Excuse me?”
He lifts an eyebrow, thoroughly amused. “You heard me.”
“Tea is the drink of the divine,” I argue, holding his gaze like it’s a duel. “It’s soothing and calm, floral and sweet—”
“It’s leaves in hot water,” he interrupts.
“And coffee is just bean water, at least tea is peaceful.” I counter, crossing my arms.
“It’s punishment. Although…” He leans in slightly, his breath ghosting against my jaw. “I’ll admit, it tastes better when it’s from your lips.”
The world seems to still for a heartbeat. My breath catches, warmth flooding my face before I can stop it. I shove his shoulder lightly. “Smooth, but I still think you have terrible taste. Black coffee over tea? Just weird.”
“You asked,” he says, shrugging and nudging me back into his lap.
My gaze drifts over his form as I descend, tracing the scars that mar his chest and torso. Some are faint, pale lines that have long since healed; others are newer, raw and raised against his skin.
My fingers hover before I dare to touch. “These… how did you get them?”
His hand pauses in my hair. For a moment, he says nothing, the bond thrumming with hesitation, but then he speaks, his voice surprisingly soft. “Some are from the war.”
I look up at him, catching the shadow crossing his face. “And the rest?”
He exhales slowly, his hand resuming its lazy trail through my hair. “The rest were given to me by The Council.”
My brow furrows. “The Council?”
He nods once, gaze distant, fixed somewhere beyond the firelight.
“Growing up under their thumb wasn’t really a childhood.
It was training, obedience and then punishment for lack of it.
They didn’t save me or any of the others when they took us from the border war; they just saw us as weapons to be honed, nothing more. ”
He pauses, taking in a breath before continuing.
“Because of my bloodline, they took special interest in me. Wanted me sharper, stronger and harder to break. The scars are from their lessons in discipline.” He huffs a bitter laugh, but there’s no humour in it.
“Countless reminders of how to stay in line. How to endure endless amounts of pain.”
A lump forms in my throat as the firelight dances across his skin, catching the lines that mark years of pain and control. I don’t know what to say, every word feels small and inadequate on my tongue.
He must sense it, because a wave of calm spreads through the bond, gentle and steady, easing the ache in my chest.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing my jaw.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He meets my gaze, and there’s something unyielding in it, something proud.
“I didn’t tell you for pity, you said you wanted to know me, and that’s part of who I am.
Ugly as it is, it made me the weapon they wanted, but it also made me someone who can protect people.
That’s the only part of it worth keeping. ”
My throat tightens, but I nod. “You’re still human, Kaden. No matter what they tried to make of you.”
His thumb traces over my lower lip, and I place a light kiss on the pad, a small smile pulling at my lips as I attempt to break the tension.
“You know…” I murmur against his thumb. “For someone who hates tea, you’re not as bitter as I expected. You could still do with some sweetening up though. If you brew it right, I think you’d like it.”
That earns me a quiet laugh. “You can try to convert me all you want, Elysia darling, but it’s hopeless. I’m loyal to my bitter bean water.”
A soft laugh escapes me, “So…” I start, “What other weird dislikes do you have?”
“So, all of my dislikes are automatically weird now, because I don’t like tea?”
I shrug, “I think it’s safe to assume that, yes.”
He rolls his eyes, but his amusement floods the bond. “I don’t like honey.”
My eyes go wide, and he chuckles at my reaction.
“Honey reminds me of my childhood. My mother used honey to mask the taste of medicine; it burned like acid going down. Can’t stand the taste or the smell of it now.” He shrugs.
I arch a brow, “So, you’re allergic to sweetness in any form?”
His grin deepens, and his voice dips low as he leans in, breath warm against my ear. “Not the kind that comes from you.” He pauses, teeth grazing my earlobe before his hand trails beneath my shift, fingers skimming up my thigh. “Yours I crave… I’m addicted to it.”
Heat blooms under my skin as his fingers begin a lazy trail towards my core. He hums against my ear, and just as he pushes a finger against my entrance, his thoughts flicker against my mind again, sharp and uneasy.
He sits up, and his eyes widen.
“What is it?” I ask, brow furrowed as I lean up on my elbows.
He swallows, dragging a hand through his hair. “I—damn it. I didn’t… we didn’t—”
I can’t help the small laugh that slips out. “You’re only just realising you came inside me… twice?”
Kaden groans softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Elysia, I didn’t even think to—”
“I know.” I reach up, brushing my thumb over the crease between his brows before it can deepen further. “Relax. I take the fertility suppressant.”
The relief that floods through the bond is almost endearing.
He exhales, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I should’ve asked… should’ve had more control.”
My lips curve into a teasing smile. “Maybe. But I’m hardly innocent here, Kaden. It’s a conversation we both should’ve had. Don’t go getting all noble on me now.”
That earns a quiet, genuine laugh as his fingers resume their slow path through my hair.
“Gods,” I murmur, half amused and half sleepy, “can you imagine it? Little High Mages running around in the middle of a war?”
A quiet huff of laughter escapes him. “It would be chaos. And The Council…” he shakes his head, “they’re dreadful with children. They’d probably try to train them before they could walk.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, a lazy smile playing on my lips as I sit up.
He watches me for a moment, his gaze raking over me slowly. “Can I ask you something?”
My brow creases slightly. “Of course.”
His gaze drops briefly, tracing the outline of my hand before lifting to meet my eyes. “Your telekinesis… how does it work?”
“You mean, how do I have it?”
He nods.
“My parents and The Council say it’s a gift from centuries of soul-binding.”
He studies me, his eyes unreadable. “You believe that?”
A small shrug. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Kaden leans back against the ruined couch, one arm draped along the backrest, his eyes flicking up to the ceiling as though the answers are written there.
“I’ve met a lot of High Mages, none with powers outside the elements. Not like you.” His head turns, gaze catching mine. “You don’t think there’s something else at play? Ancient magic, bloodlines, spells even?”
The mention of bloodlines lands like a blow.
It’s entirely possible that my fae heritage is the source of my telekinesis, a truth I’ve yet to allow myself to explore.
Cold dread curls through my gut and I force a breath, then another, smothering the panic before it can seep into the bond and give me away.
His brow furrows slightly.
“I think…” I manage, voice light and almost dismissive, “If it were anything more than a side effect of old magic, The Council would’ve investigated long ago.”
Lies. Every word of it.
Guilt crawls up my throat, heavy and suffocating.
He trusted me tonight, laid himself bare in a way I know he never does… and here I am, feeding him falsehoods. But how can I tell him the truth when even I don’t understand it?
I stand before the silence can thicken, smoothing down my light blue shift. My fingers find his hair and ruffle it gently. “I’m turning in for the evening.”
He catches my hand before I can pull away, his lips meeting the back of my hand in a whisper of a kiss, and warmth spreads up my arm from the contact.
“Goodnight, Elysia darling,” he murmurs.
“Goodnight, Kaden.”
I slip from the room, my bare feet silent against the polished wood.
The door clicks shut behind me, muffling the low crackle of the dying fire.
My private quarters are still. The air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of my florals and the lingering chill of winter through the half-open balcony door.
It’s quiet here, surprisingly comforting in its solitude, but suffocating in its weight.
I cross to the bed and sink down, the midnight-blue sheets folding around me. Moonlight drapes across the floor in pale ribbons, silvering the edges of everything it touches. For a moment, I just sit there, tracing idle circles on the soft fabric.
My hand reaches for the dagger on my bedside table. The star-iron hums faintly as I twirl it between my fingers.
Seconds stretch into minutes. Minutes into hours.
Through the bond, I can feel Kaden’s heartbeat thrumming softly beneath my own. His calm seeps through the link, brushing against my mind like a lullaby. Then, slowly, his presence fades and his breathing grows heavier until finally, he drifts into sleep.
Only then do I move.
My gaze drifts to the ring on my finger, the one my father’s journal named a concealment charm. In the three weeks since I read those entries, I haven’t taken it off once, haven’t dared to face the truth humming beneath my skin and pulsing through my veins.
Avoidance has become my strongest skill, and I’ve been drowning in it ever since that night. The lunalith crystal shimmers faintly in the moonlight, innocent and mocking.
Just once, I tell myself. Just to know.
I slide it off with trembling fingers and when the metal leaves my skin, the world exhales.
A rush of warmth bursts through me, comfortable and surprisingly right, flooding every vein.
Scents sharpen: the wax of my burning candles, the frost outside, the faint trace of cedar wood still clinging to my skin.
Every sound swells… the rustle of fabric, the joint heartbeat in my chest, the whisper of wind against the windowpane.
And then I begin to glow.
What the fuck.
It’s only faint, but it's there all the same.
It starts at my fingertips, soft silver light blooming beneath my skin. I gasp, lifting my hands before me as if seeing them for the first time… luminous, alive and more mine than they’ve ever felt.
I stumble towards the mirror, pulse hammering in my throat.
My reflection ripples, as if the glass itself recognises what I am before I do.
My eyes flare, glowing pale blue, stolen silver shards of the moon igniting within them…
mesmerising and unsettling all at once. My ears sharpen, tapering into elegant points and when I part my lips, the faint shimmer of sharpened canines catches the light.
Shock hits first, cold and absolute. Then awe follows, rising like a tide in my chest as I take in my true appearance, otherworldly beauty in its truest form.
My reflection stares back at me… half Elysia, half something else.
It’s true.
The letters were right.
I am Fae.