Chapter 31
Elariya
“Of Deception and Silver Strands”
“It's incredibly vital that we all remain focused once the spell begins,” Wolfe explained, his eyes stern and sharp as he looked at each of us.
At least he looked at me this time with a little more recognition, but that vacant expression still remained on his stoic face.
Arielle, Garrick, Wolfe, and I stood together in the center of the hall around a large circular silver-plated scroll that gleamed in the sunlight. It was called dragon scale parchment, forged from a young drake's first shedding.
The Fae used alchemy to press the scales into parchment, then infused each scale with binding glyphs to hold incantations.
Once my blood and Wolfe's dropped onto the parchment, the binding glyphs would construct a map that would lead us to the ring.
And my father. Arielle had given me the rundown yesterday of how the spell would work.
There was so much to wrap my head around. It would have been easier if my mind were clearer and I weren't so anxious. And maybe if I were as cold as Wolfe.
He didn't even say good morning or hello when Arielle and I entered. Garrick came in straight after us, and Wolfe immediately got down to business with instructions for the spell.
“Leave all your worries and problems outside that door.” He gestured to the wooden door we'd walked through and looked back at us.
At me. Of course, I was the only one here with worries and problems that could create the imbalance he'd spoken of earlier.
“Once the spell begins, we must see it through regardless of what happens. Or what slips through the shadows.”
My nerves scattered, and the hair on my skin raised as if something sinister were slithering beneath. “What do you mean by that? What could slip through the shadows?”
Wolfe regarded me, looking me up and down with scrutiny. I couldn't tell whether he thought my question was foolish or if he was assessing me for something else.
He cocked his head and clenched his jaw, a habit I'd noticed when he was trying to figure something out. “Demons, spirits, banished beings. Things trying to escape the dead planes.”
So, basically nightmares. Great. I'd never heard of banished beings.
I was already terrified the spell would devour my soul and leave me like the mindless undead. Now I was being told beings could slip through. I held off asking what to expect if we were unfortunate enough to encounter such beings.
Wolfe looked away and focused on Garrick and Arielle. “You two must hold the connection. But if it breaks or any of us gets injured, I'll need Garrick to tend to our injuries and seal any voids the instant they form.”
Garrick nodded, looking more serious than I'd seen him. Arielle gave Wolfe a curt nod.
“Don't worry about us. We'll be able to keep the barriers from being breached.” As Arielle spoke, the ends of her hair lifted into the air and the blue of her eyes clouded over with mist. Then she flashed me a look, as if to say: that was what I had to look forward to when I mastered my powers. I could only hope.
“Let us begin.” Wolfe placed his hand to his heart and bowed respectfully in the same fashion he had on the ship with Sirril. “La níyneria, a mun dair.”
“La níyneria,” Arielle and Garrick both answered with vigor.
I remembered the meaning of the words in my common tongue—'by soul and blood, we are bound.' The vow a Nightblade Royal made to his sworn servants or those he loved. The words felt like they carried more sentiment today.
Garrick and Arielle moved to opposite ends of our circle. I watched them, captivated as they summoned their powers.
Garrick clapped his hands once and chanted words I couldn't make out. Then he spread his arms wide, emitting a bright silver prism of light from his palms that flowed around us. Arielle lifted her arms, too, and suddenly, walls of the same silver light rose up, joining Garrick's ring of magic.
My pulse galloped when I tried to look beyond and was met with nothing but more silver. It was as if we'd transported somewhere else.
My emotions assailed me. I didn't know what to think or feel. I was a person coming from a place where there was no magic at all to this. It was sensory overload, and I was stuck between wanting to flee and embracing it.
Wolfe faced me again and reached for a wicked-looking athame.
“Come forward,” he commanded in that emotionless monotone he'd used when I'd arrived.
I walked over to him, stopping a breath away. My gaze met his eyes as he stared down at me as sharp as the blade in his hands.
I wished I knew what he was thinking. Or what he wasn't thinking.
Part of me was desperate to know. The other half was almost equally desperate for all of this to be over and done with so I could go home.
Home. As if I had a choice. I'd only have that option if Wolfe didn't do the unconscionable thing of keeping me here out of spite. I wouldn't put such a thing past the male who stood before me.
Gone was the fascination I'd seen lingering in his eyes from the night we met.
Gone was the guy who'd told me I was his, called me Ziyka, and begged me to stay with him when I was dying.
Gone was the guy who'd given me my first look at the magical realm from the sky.
In the end, every step we'd taken had been about this moment. This vital moment when we performed this spell to get his ring back. It was nothing more.
The hollow hope I'd still clung to fizzled into the air with each realization, leaving me feeling more alone and scared than I'd ever felt in my life.
Wolfe stepped closer, and I could smell the intoxicating scent of him. Cedarwood, smoke, and raw power. It was an untamed masculine scent that made my pulse quicken.
“Give me your hand.” He put his hand out to take mine.
I gave him my hand, and damn it, the instant he touched me, shards of wild electric energy rippled over my skin and bloomed in my core. It was so potent I had to look away from him and find anything to stare at besides those piercing eyes.
This wasn't the time for such thoughts or feelings.
My gaze settled on the inscribed runes on the walls behind him, but then he pressed the blade to my palm and drew the blade across the skin.
I expected it to hurt, but I felt no more than a scratch. In fact, it was far less painful than when I'd drawn blood for the blood spell.
Dark blood welled up instantly, and Wolfe turned my hand over so the blood could drop onto the center of the parchment.
“Keep your hand there,” he instructed, positioning my hand so my palm lay flat.
He released me and sliced his palm, doing the same thing. Drops of his blood mingled with mine, and the temperature suddenly fell.
The last time that happened to me, I'd summoned the wraith. Shadows crept in and around us from inside the circle Arielle and Garrick formed. Then the parchment began to glow with a soft amber light.
Wolfe started chanting in the old tongue. The air around us pulsed with anticipation, thick and heavy like the moments before a storm broke.
The air shimmered and the shadows around us deepened, seeming to dance in response to his words.
“Amuun dai del nenira.” Wolfe's voice took on a darker edge and my breath caught at the intensity.
Our blood began to flow along the carved pathways on the parchment, mixing and mingling until it was impossible to tell which was his and which was mine.
The shadows began to whistle and whoosh and whirl, pulsing in tandem with my hammering heart. Shivers raced down and up my spine. I held my breath, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest and fleeing into another dimension.
Wolfe's eyes met mine once more, the intensity in his stare warning me to calm myself.
I tried. I took a deep breath and willed my racing thoughts to stop, but the eerie whirling of the shadows terrified me.
It was bad enough when they came from him, but I'd gotten used to those. These shadows were something else, a separate entity that felt like they'd come to steal my soul. My heart raced again at the thought, and my breath quickened.
It wasn't until warm hands wrapped around mine that I caught my breath and the tremor in my heart eased.
Panting, I looked at my hands, both swallowed by Wolfe's, our wounds touching, more blood mixing. He'd placed the athame on the floor beside us, but I was so focused on freaking out that I hadn't seen.
The firmness of his grip anchored me, making me feel safe. So did the protective look in his eyes when I gazed up at him.
For a moment, we stared at each other, and I found myself drifting in the solace of his presence.
He shouldn't have this effect on me. I shouldn't allow it, but he was the only thing I knew in this chaos.
Wolfe looked away first, his gaze flicking to the parchment like his life depended on it.
I looked, too, watching as our blood traveled in a line across the expanse. It began to form a pattern, a map.
This was it. The moment we'd all been waiting for. The spell was working.
The map would show us where the ring went. After all these years of searching for my father, I'd see him again, and the memory curse would be broken.
And Wolfe...
He'd get his kingdom. Become the king of Galaythia.
Now that I'd seen the kingdom, I understood what he fought for.
Time held its breath with us as we stared, each second feeling heavier than the last. Our blood flowed like a river, the amber light emitting from the parchment glowing and pulsing like a second heartbeat.
Then suddenly, it faded to nothing, and the blood lifted from the parchment, split into two veins, and rushed back to us.
Mine went back into my body and Wolfe's returned to his.
He dropped my hands and when I looked at the palm that had been cut, there wasn't even a scratch there.
Wolfe scanned over his hands, his brows furrowed deep when he saw the same thing had happened to him as well.