Chapter 22
Serafina
“How can I create the shield but still allow you entry?” I ask Nyxa.
We’ve been practicing building my mental walls all morning. Neither of us have mentioned the topic from the other day. About what happened to her family.
“Close your eyes and picture me.” There’s a smile in her voice, and it settles in me like sunlight breaking through a storm.
I missed her. It took nearly two whole days before she crept back into my mind again.
I chuckle at her request. “But I have no idea what you look like.”
“It does not matter. You just have to think of what I represent to you.”
What she represents to me. Hope, maybe? Strength? Now that I know her voice—have heard it so consistently in my mind time and time again—I can remember vividly hearing it the night Norin and the other men attacked me.
She told me to fight.
She made me want to fight, only by that point, it was too late.
“I like that I make you feel that way,” she hums. “So, what looks like hope and strength?”
Hope and strength…I’ve always viewed Telfi as those things. But imagining Telfi’s face every time I think of Nyxa feels wrong. Maybe I should picture something Telfi loved. Plants. Or the scruffy stray cat from the alley.
“A stray cat?” Nyxa scoffs, sounding more than a little offended. “I remind you of a mangy feline?”
I can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of me.
“That cat’s resilient. Resourceful,” I tell her, and now I don’t know how to picture anything other than that cat, and I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s still alive and my mother has been able to take care of him while also taking care of herself.
“Fine,” she seethes. “Picture the damn cat in your mind when you think of me.”
Grinning, I close my eyes and do exactly as she says.
The image comes easily. A wiry black cat with a mangled tail that’s hooked at the end and patches of fur missing from countless scuffles.
“I hate you.” Nyxa’s words slither into my mind, but my smile only widens.
“Okay. What do I do next?”
“Build up your walls, brick by brick. Don’t leave a single hole, but let the…cat…stay inside.”
Another laugh escapes me, but I focus and do as she says.
I picture the bricks forming a circle, laying each one individually, and applying the cement that will lock them in place. Minutes pass and sweat drips from my forehead.
“Stay focused, Serafina. You’re almost there.”
Biting my lip, I keep going. Another brick, followed by another, until finally, the circle is complete.
“You did it!” Nyxa squeals, and I let out a choked laugh because by the gods, that was far more strenuous than I expected it to be.
“The greatest challenge is building it. Which you’ve already accomplished.
Now, you’ll just need to do maintenance.
Check in on things to ensure there are no holes in your shield, no weak spots. But this?”
I watch as the little cat in my mind pads around the perimeter of the wall, almost as if it’s inspecting it, as if she’s inspecting it.
“This should hold for at least a few days.”
“Thank you, Nyxa, for taking the time to teach me.”
“Of course.” Her voice is warm and sweet, like she’s proud of me, which makes me feel proud of myself.
Stretching my limbs, I move to sit at the desk, running my hand along its smooth surface before flipping open my journal.
I insisted Ryjax bring me books on plants, each one filled with intricate illustrations and detailed notes about their medicinal properties. My plan is to document every flower I saw in the garden, list out their uses, and then convince Jax to let me take as much as I can back to Village 28.
If I’m careful, if I learn enough, I should be able to keep most of them alive with proper care, allowing me to treat ailments that I never before dreamed of treating.
The corners of my mouth tug up, and I lean over my journal with the quill settled between my fingers.
This would give me purpose. It would allow me to make a small difference in this brutal world we live in.
I think this is what Telfi would have done. Become a healer, and I’d love nothing more than to follow the path she would have chosen.
A knock at my door forces me to drop the quill. It could be one of three people. Ishla, Theo, or Jax. My gut twists, and for reasons I refuse to dive into, I hope it’s the latter.
“Come in,” I say, standing from the chair.
The door creaks open, and there he is—Jax. Things haven’t been exactly the same since our little sparring match the other night. He’s been a bit more distant, still visiting every day but distant, nonetheless.
I’ve not so secretly been hating every second of it, but my pride is too big to actually say that out loud.
His frame fills the doorway, the muted light from the hallway casting shadows across his face. The way his hair falls over his forehead, unruly and careless, coupled with the faint crease of exhaustion between his brows, sends my heart into overdrive.
Stupid little thing that organ is, and I can hear Nyxa chuckle in my mind.
“Careful, or I’m kicking that cute stray outta here,” I warn.
Her chuckle dies.
“I know it’s late,” Jax says, his voice low and far too addicting. He closes the door behind him. “But I had some time to check the outpost by your village, and there was a letter for you.”
His head tilts slightly, his dark lashes brushing against his cheeks as he looks down, shielding his eyes for just a moment.
“A letter?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise. I somehow hadn’t been able to find the time to write back to Char after the last one he’d sent.
Did he send two in a row?
Guilt works its way into every crevice of my mind. Char’s my best friend, and I’ve been neglecting that, neglecting him.
He asked me to keep writing to him, and I haven’t sent him a single letter in over a week.
But it’s not like I haven’t been busy, learning all I can about the Essentari, building my strength, and making sure I’m someone worthy of his respect.
Reaching out, I take the letter from Jax. I recognize the handwriting immediately, and my lips part in a silent gasp.
I clutch it to my chest, right over my necklace.
“My mother?” Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, my ability to keep my emotions in check completely leaving me. “But…how?”
My heart pounds because I never told my parents where I am. I never told them because I didn’t want to offer them hope when it might not actually exist. That I might be coming home.
“You’re going to survive the third trial, Serafina.
” His voice is even lower than before as his eyes lock on mine.
“There’s not a single doubt in my mind. You’re…
remarkable. With what you’ve been able to accomplish these last few weeks…
even if you don’t see it.” He hesitates, his jaw tightening before he exhales heavily.
My mind hyper-fixates on that word. Remarkable. He’s used it before. I had a hard time believing it then, and I find myself feeling the same way now.
“I know it wasn’t my place, but I…I wrote to your parents. I told them you were alive. That you’re okay, and that you’ll be coming home soon.”
Speechless.
That is what I am. Overwhelmed, undone, and at an absolute loss for words.
He wrote to them.
The prince of Velegoria wrote to them.
And before I think better of it, I’m closing the distance between us, and my arms latch around his neck. I cling to him, and a choked laugh escapes me.
“Thank you, Jax.” The words feel heavy, like I should be saying so much more, but for now, they’ll have to do.
He stills.
Completely stills.
His breathing halts.
Shit.
I release him, stumbling back a step, my hands trembling as they fall to my sides. My wide eyes meet his, but his expression is unreadable, carefully masked.
“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, my pulse thundering in my ears. “You don’t like being touched.”
What the hell is wrong with me? What am I doing?
“I don’t.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I…I’m sorry,” I say again, the words tumbling over each other, frantic and mortified. “I got carried away, I didn’t mean—”
He takes a step toward me, and my breath hitches. My mind blanks, every thought evaporating as he closes the space between us.
“I don’t like being touched,” he repeats, eyes searching mine, the golden light within them flickering like there’s a storm brewing just beneath the surface. “By anyone but you.”
His confession comes out in ragged pants and slowly, ever so slowly, he reaches for my hands. His calloused fingers brush against mine, and he guides them back to where they were—around his neck.
His entire body shudders at the contact, his breath escaping in a sharp, uneven exhale. And it’s almost as if there’s a current passing between us, heavy and humming.
My heart takes on a life of its own, wild and untamable, beating harder and harder, faster and faster.
He doesn’t like being touched…by anyone but me.
“Though, I often feel,” he says, breaking the silence, “that I don’t deserve it.”
His head dips, and his lips brush the sensitive skin between my neck and shoulder, and now I’m the one who shudders. My legs threaten to collapse, but I hold myself steady.
This prince. This man. Always so careful, so guarded, and cautious. Trying so hard to never allow himself to feel. But here he is, breaking his own rules, and it’s undoing me piece by piece.
“You asked me once what you share with the shadows,” I whisper, my voice faint, but with him so close, I know he can hear me. “I didn’t have an answer for you then.”
He lifts his head, pulling back just enough so his gaze meets mine. I raise my chin, allowing myself a better view of his golden eyes, and I feel like I’m drowning.
“But you do now?” His voice is like a caress, wrapping around me, threatening to consume my mind, body, and soul.
“I do,” I say, my throat tight and dry, the words barely making it past my lips.
“Tell me, Nova,” he murmurs, his lips so close to mine that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “What do I share with the shadows?”
I force a swallow, my pulse racing even more than it already was, a desperate rhythm I can’t control.
“You like your solitude,” I begin, the words forming slowly in my mind.
“It’s the reason you have this secret room, hidden away, concealed from others.
You crave the quiet, the stillness. But you’re also haunted.
By what, I don’t know. And I doubt you’ll ever tell me because even though honesty seems important to you, you still value your secrets. ”
His gaze darkens, his body tensing slightly beneath my touch.
“But I know it’s not your doing. The darkness you believe exists within your soul. It’s not there because of something you did. It was forced upon you. And still, you carry it.”
He exhales shakily. I hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.
“You rarely show your true emotions,” I continue, my voice growing steadier despite the speed of my heart.
“It’s as if you’re constantly wrestling with some inner conflict, like there’s a battle raging inside you that no one else can see.
But like the shadows, you’re steady. Always there, always present.
A silent shield.” My fingers tighten slightly against the nape of his neck, my voice dipping to a whisper.
“You do better than protect. You make others feel strong.”
His eyes bounce between mine, and for a moment, I think he might say something, might confess something. But instead, he leans in even closer, his forehead pressing gently against mine.
“And do you? Feel strong, Nova?”
I allow myself to mull over his words, feel them in my mind, and I wonder how they’ll feel on my lips, not only saying them out loud but actually believing them.
“I do.”
I really do.
And maybe, he was right the other night. Maybe I would survive the third trial, even if I wasn’t an Essentari. It’s not something I’ve thought much about, not until he brought it up.
But it feels nice to feel that way. To say the words and have someone else not only hear them but believe them.
And I know he does.
The corner of his mouth curves, and his eyes somehow seem to shine brighter.
“I should go.”
“Mhmm,” I hum, unable to form actual words with so much contact.
I close my eyes.
“I will go.” His voice is firmer this time, and suddenly, I don’t feel him anymore.
I open my eyes, and Jax is gone, and I think—no, I know—that surviving the third trial will be the easy part.
It’s surviving him that might just tear me apart.