Chapter 10
SERIS
The Fae who guided me through Vaelthorne’s winding streets moved with the same gliding grace as Lyralei, something noticeably inadequate in Daemon’s and my own movements.
I followed a step behind as my makeshift sandals whispered against the brick path beneath us.
Gardens heavy with fruit pulsed with life as light bounced off the clear streams that ran through Vaelthorne.
The air itself felt different here, warmer, softer. As if reality had listened to the wishes of its people and granted them peace.
My guide slowed as we approached an arched doorway. Beyond it, I heard voices layered over one another in lively conversation. My chest tightened for reasons I couldn’t quite name.
“This is the dining hall,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the door. “Many of us are excited to meet you. You are Lyanna’s daughter, after all.”
The pressure in my chest deepened, settling uncomfortably in my stomach.
No one had ever been excited to see me for any reason other than to use me as a weapon.
Though these Fae meant me no harm, I couldn’t stop memories of Blackstone Keep from surfacing, of stone walls and iron bars and the suffocating dark.
My jaw tightened involuntarily. My fists clenched without permission.
The dining hall opened before me like something from a dream I’d never dared to imagine.
It was vast, large enough to hold the entire village.
Long tables carved from wood, each big enough to seat forty or fifty Fae, stood in orderly formation across the hall.
Nearly every inch of their surfaces was covered in plates overflowing with food, freshly caught game and vegetables grown in peace and prosperity.
The ceiling soared high above, dotted with floating orbs of light that shimmered and circled one another in slow, graceful patterns.
But it was the villagers who stopped me in my tracks.
There were so many Fae.
My entire life, I had only seen Fae hiding in pairs or small groups of three at most, doing everything in their power to avoid the kingdom’s hunters.
Here, there was no restraint. No fear. Fae of all ages mingled openly, eating their fill without worry.
Laughter echoed through the vast space like a crashing waterfall.
It took me a moment to understand what I was witnessing.
Joy.
Unrestrained joy.
I forced myself to move forward alongside the guide and Daemon. Suddenly, I was painfully aware that the clothes I wore were borrowed. My heart pounded, not from fear, but from not knowing how to exist inside so much happiness.
I wanted to turn around. To leave.
Just as anxiety threatened to take hold, I felt Daemon’s presence at my shoulder.
Concern, and something steadier, grounding, shone in his endlessly dark eyes.
His expression softened as he placed a hand over my shoulder, his palm large enough to cover it entirely.
He lifted his brows slightly, silently asking if I was all right.
I offered him a tight smile and a small nod just as we approached Lyralei’s table.
The Keeper of Vaelthorne rose gracefully to greet us. Without hesitation, she wrapped me in an embrace.
The weight in my chest eased as her arms tightened around me.
When she pulled away, I was met with genuine smiles, nothing like the brittle, false one Mira had worn before she sold me. These smiles reached their eyes.
“The clothes suit you,” Lyralei said warmly. “Lyanna always looked radiant in whatever she wore. You seem to share that blessing.”
All I could manage was a faint smile.
She turned, her arm settling gently around my shoulders.
“This is Seris, daughter of Lyanna.”
The hall fell silent, like a great wave suspended at its peak before crashing.
Then warmth surged toward me from every direction.
The Fae erupted into cheers. Applause. Whistles. They rushed forward, crowding around us.
An older Fae woman reached me first and clasped my hand between hers.
“Your mother,” she said, eyes bright with memory. “I knew her since she was a child. Lyralei may seem responsible now, but she and your mother caused quite the trouble in their younger days.”
“I,” My voice caught in my throat. “Tha,”
Before I could finish, another Fae stepped forward. And another.
I was surrounded by stories, tales of my mother’s laughter, her mischief, her brilliance. There were so many that they blurred together, each one adding a piece to a version of her I had never known.
The entire village seemed to gather around us before Lyralei gently urged them back to their tables.
“You’ll all have plenty of time to meet and get to know Seris. For now, she must recover from her journey. Let’s eat.”
Daemon had been pressed against the wall, looking more overwhelmed than I felt. His injuries were still substantial, though he appeared a few shades better after the healer’s visit. I extended a hand toward him, and he crossed the space as soon as the Fae returned to their seats.
We sat at Lyralei’s table. I’d thought the main course had already been served, but I was mistaken.
What I’d seen before had only been the beginning.
Fae streamed from the kitchen carrying towering platters stacked high with plates.
The aroma of steaming food made my mouth water, forcing me to realize how long it had been since I’d eaten a proper meal.
I was the first to be served. Remembering my manners, I waited until everyone else had received their food. My mother had taught me that as a child. Every Fae around me did the same.
Once all had been served, a bell rang.
I ate ravenously, any lingering anxiety dissolving beneath hunger and warmth.
I had been the first served and was the first to finish. As I looked around the vast hall, I couldn’t tell if it was the fullness in my stomach or the warmth of my welcome, but something settled inside me.
I felt as though I belonged.
No chains. No imminent danger. No need to run.
Only acceptance.
Music began somewhere to my left, strings, drums, and layered voices weaving together into something that warmed me to my bones. The hall erupted into rhythmic clapping, and drinks were passed from hand to hand. Though no one said it outright, I could tell my arrival had sparked the celebration.
Daemon, seated to my right, began to relax as well.
Then honey wine was poured.
I took a cautious sip, surprised at how faint the alcohol tasted. Sweet and smooth, almost harmless. I assumed it was a dessert wine with little strength.
Daemon’s expression told me he shared my assumption.
I lifted my cup toward him. He held my gaze as our cups clinked softly together.
It was the first of many.
Before long, my cup was empty, and refilled the moment it touched the table. The liquid tasted of honey and sunlight, warmth spreading through my limbs and loosening tension I hadn’t realized I still carried.
I downed the next cup in a single swallow, letting music and laughter wash over me.
Time began to blur.
I ate and drank until my stomach ached. Then I drank more. I drank until the edges of reality softened into something gentle and forgiving. A distant part of me realized I had misjudged the wine’s strength.
I didn’t care.
I rose from my seat and joined the crowd of dancing Fae. The central tables had been pushed aside, clearing space for spinning bodies and linked arms. They danced without fear, without regard for the darkness that waited beyond Vaelthorne’s borders.
The celebration stretched deep into the night, slowly tapering into softer laughter and lingering embraces. Farewells came in waves, kisses pressed to cheeks, warm hugs, phrases spoken in the old tongue that the wine somehow allowed me to understand.
Eventually, most had gone.
I pushed myself to my feet, intending to help clear the tables.
The world tilted sharply to the side.
Daemon’s hands caught my elbow before I could fall. The scent of him, leather, steel, and something undeniably him, cut through the haze clouding my mind.
I had definitely been wrong about the alcohol.
“Careful,” he murmured.
I blinked up at him, secretly hoping he would hold me tighter. “M’fine.”
“You’re too drunk to be fine.”
“Maybe.” I attempted to steady myself and immediately proved him right. “It’s your fault. You weren’t watching.”
Something flickered across his expression, something that mirrored the warmth spreading through my chest.
“I was watching.”
He guided me toward the exit, one hand firm at my elbow, the other wrapped around my waist. I leaned into him more than necessary, but he didn’t comment.
The cool night air hit us as we stepped outside, easing the heat in my cheeks and chest. Above us, the stars burned brighter and clearer than I had ever seen, untouched by the darkness that haunted the world beyond Vaelthorne.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed.
“Walk,” Daemon muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharp edge.
Without realizing it, my hand reached for his as we stepped carefully forward.
I laced my fingers through his, and our gazes met.
I couldn’t tell whether the heat in my cheeks came from the wine or from him.
He broke eye contact first, to my quiet disappointment, and took a few steps ahead. Before I could dwell on it, I stumbled.
Once again, his strong hands caught me.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Here.” He swept me off my feet, cradling me effortlessly in his arms, as though I weighed nothing at all. From this height, the world shifted. It was smaller, distant, as if I no longer belonged to it. I became acutely aware of how small I was compared to him.
We walked toward the lodging in silence. At the door, he shifted me with practiced ease, one arm supporting my hips as he adjusted his hold. My face was close enough to feel his breath, and my arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. He opened the door and carried me inside.