Chapter 18
Elariya
“Between Mercy and Ruin.”
Garrick stopped before an ornate door with dark whorls carved into the aged wood.
I’d assumed the room Wolfe and I met in yesterday was his private study, but we ended up here at the other end of the ship, closer to the chambers.
My stomach squeezed the moment he opened the door. I’d expected to find Wolfe waiting inside for me with that menacing grin dancing on his lips. But he wasn’t there.
I scanned the room, searching for him just to be sure. My gaze touched the large mahogany desk in the center with the winged leather chair behind it and the walls with leather-bound tomes laid out on floating shelves. No. He wasn’t here.
Garrick led me inside and I took careful steps behind him, the floorboards creaking in tandem with my slow breaths.
“He’ll be along shortly. Just wait in here.” Garrick gave me a clipped nod.
“Sure.” I brought my hands together to keep them from shaking.
With a brief smile, Garrick turned and headed toward the door.
His long hair swayed as he walked, revealing more tattoos on the back of his neck.
I watched him disappear into the hallway, almost wishing he'd stay.
Compared to the other Fae males I'd met—especially Wolfe—he was far less abrasive. Maybe he really was the nicest.
The door clicked shut behind him with the finality of a tomb and the breath I’d held whooshed past my lips. I clasped my hands tighter, the blood in my veins thickening. Confrontation of any kind had never been my strength.
The unknown was what got me. You never could tell how the other person would react, what they’d say, and how it would end. It was so much worse when they had the upper hand. Like Wolfe did.
My body stiffened as I remembered yesterday’s meeting.
Like most things that had happened during this memory loop, I couldn’t wait to forget the encounter. Finding out your father had murdered a king and you had to pay for his crime was not something anyone would want to remember.
I walked over to the floating shelves, deciding to distract myself if only for a few moments. I’d wanted to check out the books in the other room yesterday.
This may be my only chance to get a good look at these while I was by myself. Who knew, maybe luck would finally cut me some slack and I’d stumble across a spell to help me escape. Not likely. If such a spell existed, Wolfe would never allow me in here.
The books before me were older than the others and held that nostalgic scent of a library with archives dating back centuries. Watching them on the floating shelves was an added bonus.
This study felt more personal and touched by a warmth that didn’t belong to Wolfe. A homey kind of vibe lingered here, softening the edges of the tension bleeding through the doors. It was almost comforting.
A miniature gold gyroscope spun on an invisible axis on the nearest shelf, its rings catching the light as tiny white sparks glowed within, scattered like stars forming a constellation.
Moving closer, I realized what they were, what they represented: the six gods of fate worshipped throughout the magical realm, guardians said to shield souls from the six hells.
It was always interesting to me that the mortal lands had adopted the same concept of six hells but had set up something entirely different for their faith.
The gyroscope shimmered as if it had overheard my thoughts. Father once told me instruments like this were kept on ships for luck, a charm to guide sailors through treacherous seas. I wished for a fraction of that luck now as I stared at it, hoping the stars might decide to favor me.
I touched the leather spine of the thickest book on the shelf and gasped as it slid out and floated into my hands. I just about caught it before it drifted away.
The instant I got a grip, the book opened itself, the pages flicking earnestly on their own accord until landing on a double spread with some old language scrawled across it in big bold letters.
I attempted to decipher the language, but then the strangest thing happened. It changed into the common tongue spoken in Nelkaraad so I could understand it.
“What on earth?” I muttered.
The letters shifted around to spell Mages of the Ravenwood Realm—the ancestral home that sang in my blood, where Grandmother and Mother had walked beneath ancient stars.
A breath later, more words emerged, arranging themselves into paragraphs that revealed the hidden paths to get there.
The ink pulsed with each revelation, as if the book were alive in my hands.
But heaviness pulled on my heart like an anchor dragging me toward a destiny I'd never asked for.
Of all the secrets to reveal, why would the book show me this?
The one place I'd dreamed of as a child but knew I could never reach.
I took a step backward only to collide with something solid yet yielding. A living wall that radiated heat through my shawl.
Warm hands clamped around my shoulders, steadying me with a touch that sent treacherous shivers cascading down my spine. Hot breath caressed the shell of my ear, carrying the scent of spiced wine and something darker. A primal, masculine scent that made my pulse quicken.
Wolfe. He was here.
The bastard snuck up on me again.
The fine hairs on my neck rose as the warmth of his exhale contrasted with the cooler air of the study.
“Interesting that your greatest desire leads you to the Ravenwood Realm instead of home.” That voice, smoky and rich, like dark velvet soaked in sin, struck deep in my core, leaving heat blooming in its wake.
Wolfe kept his hands on my shoulders, gripping tighter but with that annoying possession engrained in his touch.
I looked up slowly. He was so close that my cheek brushed against his beard, making the beads in his plaits clink. Menace overflowed from the grin that danced along his lips, and my nerves frayed like straw, ready to frazzle away at any moment.
“Is that where you want to go, little mage?” A storm of interest brewed in his eyes as he searched mine, then his gaze dropped to the book for a moment before he turned me to face him. “The Ravenwood Realm?”
“I was just looking at the book,” I mumbled, trying to keep my voice steady. “It opened to this page by itself. I wasn’t searching for the Ravenwood Realm.”
“You didn’t need to search for it. The book knew. My father enchanted it to reveal the path to your greatest desire.”
I smirked, shaking my head. “The book is wrong. Going to the Ravenwood Realm is not my greatest desire.”
“Maybe so, but that’s where you’ll find it. Whatever it is.”
I gazed at him and thought for a moment.
Magic. That had to be the answer. I used to spend hours dreaming of going to the Ravenwood Realm when I was little.
I’d grown up on stories and legends that sounded like fantasies.
Most of all, I craved the magic I should have had.
All Ravenwood Realm mages gained their powers from the land itself.
The Fray fed it to them like air in the lungs.
I’d been starved of that magic my whole life, so, yes, the book was right. I just didn’t like it.
I hated the fact that this book—his book—could reach so deep inside me and expose more secret parts of me than I wanted to share.
My fingers curled into my palms, my nails biting into my flesh. “I can assure you I want to go home more than anything else and be rid of this nightmare.”
Wolfe’s grin blossomed into something cruel that tightened my lungs. “The book is never wrong. You may think you want to go home, but I assure you, you do not.”
“You don’t know me,” I argued, hardening my gaze as discomfort settled in the pit of my stomach.
He chewed his lip while keeping his eyes trained on me like a barn cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse. “Like I said before, Ziyka, I know enough about you.”
A flush crept up my neck as I recalled the last time he spoke such words. It was on the night he took me.
“If the book is so good, why don’t you use it to find the ring?” That was an attempt to shift my mind away from the memory, but it was a good question.
“I tried. The book can only find things or desires on this plane of existence. That’s why I first suspected the ring had been taken to another plane.” He released me and glanced at the book between us when the letters on the page began rearranging themselves again.
Before they could fully form into sentences, Wolfe plucked the book from my fingers and snapped it shut. But not before he glimpsed whatever truth it had begun to spell. That grin returned slowly, wide and savage.
“Better I hold on to this, little mage. Before it tells you how to win my heart.”
Bastard. He was so arrogant it made me sick. I wanted to slap that grin right off his face. “Why in the hells would it tell me that? That’s the last thing I want to know.”
“Not according to the book,” he whispered. “And that scent of yours tells me you still want me.”
My stomach folded in on itself. “I don’t know what you mean. There is no scent.” And did the book really reveal that?
I wouldn’t know if he was lying to pull a reaction from me or telling the truth. I hoped it was lies.
Wolfe tapped the tip of his nose and leaned in like he was going to tell me a secret. “The Fae have sharp senses, Ziyka. We smell lies, truth, fear. And arousal.”
That last word felt like a hand around my throat. I wanted to tell him he was lying. But deep down I couldn’t. The sudden ache pulsing between my thighs told me I couldn’t say anything of the sort, and I hated him for it.
I hated him for knowing how to unravel me. For peeling back the layers of my desires without mercy. I hated him for making me crave the hands that chained me.
But worse…
Gods help me, I hated myself more. And all the parts of me that wanted to be caught.
“Like you said to me yesterday, believe what you want.” I would have commended myself for sounding so brave if I weren’t trying to conceal my lie.
“Fact is fact, Ziyka.”