Chapter 36
Wolfe
“Too Close to the Flame”
Istood there in the garden frozen, no different from the stone statues of gargoyles and goblins surrounding me. The morning air was thick with the scent of jasmine, but it might as well have been ash in my lungs.
The sight of Elariya's retreating figure sent more rage coursing through my veins, sharp as blades, potent as poison. Not at her, though; that would have been easier. No, this rage wasn't the clean burn of justified anger but something uglier, directed squarely at myself.
Sure enough, I was furious at her recklessness, at Garrick's absence, at her flight with Hedion, at the fucking danger she'd put herself in, and the way she'd looked at me like I was exactly the monster I'd proven myself to be.
But most of all, the rage burning through me was for the noxious words that had spilled from my mouth. And the way I'd just destroyed whatever fragile trust had existed between us.
I'd foolishly shattered something I didn't know was so precious to me with my callous words.
The bitter taste of my own cruelty lingered in my mouth, and my hands were clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, threatening to draw blood.
I continued watching her walk away from me with her spine rigid from wounded pride, and I wanted to put my fist through something.
I wished I could slam it through the walls she'd placed up and the hurt that had bloomed in those beautiful eyes before she'd hidden it behind ice.
I wished I could turn back time and go back to the moment I'd touched her to check she was okay.
If I'd possessed such power, I'd try to control my panic and stop myself from losing my shit.
But after knowing the terror I'd experienced during those moments, I was certain I would still manage to fuck things up.
Three hundred years of life in this world, and nothing had terrified me more than when I'd imagined Elariya falling to her death from the dragon's back.
Nothing could remove the raw dread that clogged my heart like tar when I thought she could have died and I wouldn't have been able to save her.
It was just chance that I'd felt her through the shackles, which meant there was a very real possibility that I wouldn't have gotten to her in time.
I was away flying Pyrion in the Outterlands, where her massive frame had room to properly stretch.
Unlike Hedion, she required vast distances and extended flight time.
Sometimes, I even allowed her to range to the farthest territories alone.
Today, I'd been trying to manage too many things at once.
Checking in with Bastian and Alaric at the border camp, reviewing the complexities of the spell, and all the other countless matters demanding my attention.
My fucking mind was all over the place. When I'd felt the pull through the shackles alerting me Elariya was in danger, I was already too late. Then I'd seen her flying on Hedion's back, two thousand feet in the air without so much as a stirrup to hold on to.
I could still see her falling in my head. Cold sweat still clung to my skin, and the terror replayed over and over again, even though nothing had happened and she was safe and sound.
Despite those real feelings of terror for a woman who'd become the exception to all my rules, I'd handled everything wrong, said everything wrong.
Three hundred years on this earth, and I'd dutifully managed to ruin the only connection I'd formed with a woman I cared about.
Fuck, I cared.
I cared and could no longer fool myself into thinking the little mage meant nothing to me.
My damn ring had probably stopped being my sole focus from the instant my shields dropped in that tavern in Stormfell and she'd looked at me. In those eyes I'd seen more. Light. Love. Hope. Happiness. Things a dark soul like me could never have.
With my heart fracturing, I watched Elariya disappear into the manor with Garrick. She never looked back. Not once. And that small detail ignited something savage in my soul that shouldn't exist.
But…maybe this whole thing was for the best. Best for us both.
No matter what claim I'd made on her and my relentless obsession, the harsh reality of our situation was I couldn't be with her, and out of principle, she couldn't be with me.
My cruelty had brought things back into perspective, and now that she saw me as Lord Nightblade, that distance between us had become a gorge.
I'd never set out on this quest looking for anything other than my ring, and wanting anything more than to be free of my curse and get my kingdom back. So, I shouldn't desire anything more from her.
Besides, today's shitshow had just added more to the mystery of my mage and had me questioning who and what she truly was.
What mage could hear the dragons' song, hear them speak, and fly one?
There was none that I'd known of through all the ages.
Only the Fae from certain bloodlines had the ability to bond with dragons.
And only the Nightblade family could harness their magic. That was the whole reason why we'd been chosen to rule Galaythia.
Elariya hadn't even bonded with Hedion. It was not known for a dragon to speak with you telepathically or otherwise until you'd gone through the sealing ritual, yet she'd done it.
How?
And... the dragons had turned on me. Both of them. When I'd unleashed on her, the dragons, who'd been my companions all my life, turned on me, all teeth and claws, ready to incinerate me. What a fucking cruel joke. The universe was definitely a trickster.
I was their master. They answered to me, but they'd switched on me when they thought she needed protection.
What laws of gods and immortals made such a thing possible?
What magic did the half-mage/half-human possess?
I didn't know, but I was damn certain going to find out. Starting with the dragons.
To overpower them and restore loyalty, I'd had to summon my death magic, then remind them of their bonded oath. That was the only way to tame a dragon when it turned on you, then I'd sent them away so they'd know they'd been punished.
There was no question now that my dragons were part of this mystery. So what was the ring trying to tell me?
I took one last look at the door Elariya had gone through and tried not to think about her. Then I phased to the caves, right into the dragons' cavern, where the familiar heat and earthy scent hit me, along with the dragons' groans.
They bowed with the deepest respect when they saw me, remorse for their disloyalty prevalent in their eyes.
I acknowledged them and walked over to Hedion. Hedion flinched as I stepped closer.
“Show me what happened when Elariya came into the caves,” I commanded.
His pupils dilated before he closed his eyes, then a stream of flickering images rushed into my mind.
I saw Elariya walk into the cavern. She looked as curious as I'd imagined, venturing into the dark path of the unknown.
That curiosity quickly morphed into fascination when she found Hedion, then fear when he frightened her and she ran from him.
My brain fractured as I watched her fall off the fucking cliff. That would have been the moment I'd felt the burn of the shackles and her terror. That was the danger.
Hedion had caught her, then secured her to him with his magic when he'd flipped her onto his back. I saw and felt her joy as he flew with her. Although it reminded me of the thrill I'd felt when I first flew, I was still mad at the situation.
I dragged my hand down my face when the images stopped. “Fuck. Hedion, why did you let her ride you?”
“Because she is yours, your Grace.” He spoke out loud, and the words hit harder than they should have.
Mine. I'd been calling her mine all this time. Toying with the word like a piece in a game. Now it bore some significance I wasn't prepared to acknowledge.
But the answer couldn't be so simple. Claiming Elariya wouldn't suddenly break down laws of magic that were older than time. What we were witnessing went deeper, entrenched in rules that went above my head.
“She shouldn't have been able to ride you, or hear you sing, or command your loyalty.”
“Her powers were different today, Your Grace.”
“Different? Different how?” I held his gaze, searching those molten eyes.
“Her powers were stronger. More distinct. I could feel them.”
Gods be good. Arielle’s analysis was right. Being in the mortal realm had kept Elariya’s magic locked away. Here, in Galaythia, it was awakening like new life breaking through stone.
“What powers does she have?”
“I cannot tell them apart yet, Your Grace, but I feel it. Even now, her magic grows. My Lady carries the mark of an ancient bloodline we must honor.” Hedion tilted his head, and Pyrion mirrored the gesture. “The same vein of power as yours and the Nightblades who have gone before you.”
My heart stopped beating for a few seconds then slammed back to life with violent force. “Power like mine? And my ancestors?”
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s what makes her yours. A soul of equal power we must honor.”
Those words hit harder than anything else. She was truly mine. Not just in my head but written into the very fabric of her power.
I drew in a breath, slow and uneven. “Gods be good.”
“Your Grace, the realm has awakened what was sleeping. Now her powers are taking form. Shaping.”
Shaping. I was right to be cautious. And this was just the beginning.
She’d made vast progress in a matter of days.
The question now wasn't what Elariya was; it was what she was becoming.
I'd thought I was chasing a ring, but apparently, I had something even more valuable.
And she had been right beside me this entire time.