Chapter 29 #2
His gaze fell to her clenched hands, still trembling, still faintly glowing.
“To show you,” he murmured. “To make you see what you are capable of. A part of you has been hidden away your whole life. A truly beautiful part I could never have foreseen.”
Her throat tightened because for the first time since she arrived, he was at last being genuine.
Rune shook his head, stepping closer. She didn’t move back when he reached her, holding his gaze as he wiped the tears on her lashes. The touch was unexpectedly tender.
Her mouth trembled. “You said I didn’t belong.”
Rune’s brows curled at the sight of her tears. “That is the second lie I have ever regretted.” He sighed as his fingers trailed down her chin to her neck. His voice was barely a whisper now, roughened by something unguarded. “I know monsters, Alora. And you are far from it.”
Her guard wavered. It was rare that he called her by name. The sound of it made all of her still.
“Then what am I?” she whispered.
Rune was quiet a breath. “I wish I knew. Every instinct in me says you are more than this world meant to allow.”
She had expected his temper, his arrogance, anything but this quiet, disarming gentleness. The way he touched her now wasn’t possessive but careful, as if she were something precious he was afraid to break.
“Once Nexus found you, it was a sign that you had magic waiting to be awakened. So helped you with that.”
“Absurd,” she frowned. “I could have killed you.”
“Yes, you nearly did.” A sly smile tugged at his lips. “I will have you know, the sign a god has found his bride is when she attempts to take his life.”
Alora rolled her eyes, managing a weak laugh. Of course he would make light of this. But her smile faded as it all bore down on her.
A breeze drifted into the room from the open balcony. She went out onto the terrace, looking at the kingdom in the far distance below. He came to stand beside her.
“Rune… I’m scared,” Alora admitted softly. “I don’t know what I am, but I need answers. I won’t find them here.”
Rune went still.
Moonlight gleamed over his face, carving out the tension in his jaw, the shadows beneath his eyes. His expression didn’t harden as it usually did when cornered, but a thousand thoughts wared behind his gaze.
“You wish to leave,” he said at last, the words low.
She closed her eyes, thinking of the lark hairpin.
“There must be a reason I was sent to live in the Midlands. I need to return to find out why.” Alora looked out to the dark patch of land coated in mist. “What if I am something terrible? Something wicked and dark that should have always been kept hidden?”
Rune’s expression softened.
He rose on a bed of shadows that rippled beneath his boots like living silk and extended his hand to her. “Take my hand, little bird. Let me show you how beautiful the dark can be.”
For a moment, she hesitated.
The night outside was endless, waiting to swallow her whole. But those unholy crimson eyes held no malice now, but something patient, inviting. Against her better sense, Alora reached out. His hand closed around hers, cool and steady, and the floor fell away.
The shadows lifted them, gliding into the open air.
The wind rushed past, tugging her hair free, and the mountain unfurled below.
And she saw the onyx castle embedded within the jagged sea of black peaks crowned with mist. Rune’s magic carried them higher still until the fortress was nothing but a spark of light in an ocean of night.
She gasped when the first shimmer appeared above them. A veil of pale green and violet lights rippling across the Heavens like silk. The aurora swayed in quiet dance, soft against the black sky, and for the first time since arriving, Alora’s heart relaxed.
The shadows surrounding them softened into translucent wings.
Their silhouettes soared against the clouds, vast and graceful, each beat sending tremors through the air.
Rune’s hand still held hers, but his gaze was on her.
The light of the aurora reflected in his eyes, and for a heartbeat, he looked less like a god and more like a being who had surfaced from the stars.
“This is what you fear?” he murmured. “The dark is not evil, Alora. It’s the absence of light, but it’s also a place where the broken can hide. Where the lost can rest.”
Her chest ached at the gentleness in his voice.
The world below glimmered faintly and Argyle surfaced from the fog, sleeping beneath the clouds. The sight pulled her from the spell of the sky. Her people still needed her, but she had been only worried about herself.
Rune must have sensed the shift.
Without a word, he guided them down again, shadows curling close as they descended toward his balcony. The lights faded from view, leaving the hush of wind and the faint hum of magic between them.
When their feet touched the stone, he released her hand. “Thank you,” she whispered, glancing up at the stars. “It was beautiful.”
His eyes lingered on her. “Yes, it was.”
Something in her chest shifted, traitorous and warm, but such a thing was dangerous. If she let herself trust him, she feared then he truly would own her soul.
And she could not forget what was important.
Alora reached for him before she could think better of it, her fingers brushing against his hand on her cheek. “Please,” she whispered. “Let me go.”
Rune’s hand stilled beneath hers, his gaze lowering. “If you do find answers, what then?”
he asked, voice quiet.
Will you return?
He didn’t speak it, but she could feel the question linger in the air. Alora couldn’t answer. Because if she came back, she might forget who she was before him.
“Then…” Alora hesitated. “I would like to go home. Argyle was left under Calveron’s control. And my friend, her mother has fallen to the Sleeping Curse. She needs me. My people need me. I have to go back.”
Rune’s jaw tightened and he looked away.
Alora grabbed his hand, desperate now, her voice soft but pleading. “Please, Rune. You said I’m not a prisoner.”
For a long, heavy moment, he didn’t move. Shadows coiled restlessly at his boots.
Then he exhaled and said, almost reluctantly, “Very well. We can discuss it … after you join me for dinner.”
She blinked. “Dinner?”
Rune’s lips curved faintly, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Tomorrow night, the seven factions will gather to celebrate Samhain. It is the turning of the season before autumn falls into winter. There will be a banquet, chaos, and far too much wine. As my queen, your presence is expected.” His thumb grazed the back of her hand, so feather light it sent a soft current over her skin. “It is, as you say, tradition.”
His tone was lighter, but his gaze was still guarded.
Alora nodded, willing to agree to whatever he asked if it meant she could leave. “All right… and have you learned anything more of the Sleeping Curse?”
He hesitated, the pause long enough for her to notice. “A few minor leads,” he said finally. “None that proved useful.”
“Oh.”
Her heart sank with despair.
For all his power, even Rune was no closer to unraveling the spell that bound her fate. A small, sharp part of her wondered if he had stopped searching altogether, but she forced the thought away. He had sworn a vow never to lie to her. And for now, she needed to believe that meant something.
Before she could ask more, the air shimmered and Calla appeared in a puff of smoke, bowing gracefully. “My queen, your guest is stable now. He remains unconscious, but I have healed his wounds.”
Alora sighed with relief.
Guilt flickered in her chest when she saw Rune’s expression change. He looked down at their linked hands and his fingers tightened slightly, before he let go.
“Best not keep him waiting then,” Rune said, voice deceptively smooth. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he strode away. “Do be sure to rest. Tomorrow will be… eventful.”
The shadows stirred, swallowing him before she could answer, leaving the echo of his presence in the flickering light.