Chapter 38
Horror rips through me as fierce and consuming as the fire that destroyed all those homes just days ago.
For one horrible heartbeat, nothing happens. The dagger’s hilt, slick and real, protrudes from Darius’s chest.
What if I was wrong? What if the Fae-weakening metal combined with my light magic wasn’t the solution to that indestructible mass embedded next to Darius’s heart?
What if I just killed him? What if I just killed the Shadow Prince?
The anxiety I’d held at bay while focusing my magic erupts violently, constricting my lungs, making it next to impossible to breathe.
The undeniable sense that I just fucked up grips me fiercely as my eyes flick up and meet Draven’s infuriated glare. His fangs are bared in a sneer. His strong hands reach for my throat.
Just before his fingers close around me—BOOM!
The dagger explodes. A force like thunder slams into me, hurling me backward.
I’m suspended in midair, weightless and dizzy. A bolt of white-hot light snakes from the dagger in Darius’s chest, latching onto me like a tether. Every nerve in my body hums. For a heartbeat, we are connected, two lives bound by impossible magic.
Then—the tether snaps.
Shadows rush at me from all sides, black and suffocating. My mind reels, drawn into a vortex that twists my body and soul like a hurricane. I scream, but the sound is swallowed by the void.
Darkness falls.
I wake in a cold, empty room. One I don’t recognize. The dark-gray stones are unfamiliar. Wet. I raise my hand to rub my aching head when the rattle of metal halts my movement.
I press my lips into a grim line. Glittering black shackles are clamped around my wrists. Of course.
I’m in a dungeon.
The king sent me here.
I sit on my haunches and curse the events that led to this.
How am I going to get out?
Draven and the others will come for me. Of that, there’s no doubt. But what will it cost? No price I want them to pay. But it won’t be up to me. Those stubborn idiots are my brothers in all the ways that matter. They will do whatever it takes to free me. He will do whatever it takes.
And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
Metal groans, and the door to my left swings open. I don my practiced indifferent expression—the one I learned from watching Rian. That bastard is an expert at hiding his emotions.
But when the petite female steps through the door, I can’t conceal my surprise. Even under the cover of the violet cloak on her shoulders, I’d know her anywhere.
The smell of wildflowers in bloom along the western cliffs fills my nostrils.
“Petra?”
“Hello, Darius.” Tightness pulls at her greeting as she lowers her hood, and her eyes dart to the unseen corridor, telling me we’re not alone. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused as fuck.” I duck my head to try and catch her eye, but she tucks her chin to her chest. “Why won’t you look at me?”
She sucks in a tiny, sharp breath, then meets my stare. Her beauty takes my breath away, as it always does.
In a musical voice that has sent countless young men sprawling at her feet, she says, “The king is displeased with you.”
“Good, then I’m doing something right.”
“Darius,” she snaps, though humor flickers in the reprimand. I see it in the twist of her lips before she presses them together. “This is serious. He’s really angry this time.”
“Excellent. It’s about time my uncle abandons his grand hopes for me.” I lean against the wall behind me, propping a knee and resting my elbow on it. “Now, tell me what his latest punishment will be and then get his dogs to release me.”
“Darius…” She says my name again, only this time, her voice wavers. “You must stop this. All of you. He is the king. He knows everything.”
“No one knows everything,” I counter even as unease crawls up my spine.
If King Marek did…we’d all be dead already.
“You’re stubborn fools. All of you.” She drops her gaze, and her hands shake as she reaches into her cloak. “And he won’t let it slide any longer.”
“What does that—”
She withdraws a smoky vial, holding it between trembling fingers.
My blood runs cold.
“No…” I dip my chin, desperate to meet her eyes, to convince her not to follow the king’s orders. “Petra, no! You cannot do this.”
“You know I don’t have a choice.” Her words are quiet, almost a whisper.
The clang of armor announces the king’s men. Two masked guards step into the cell.
My heart beats hard, but I snarl viciously. They falter, knowing my strength, knowing what Draven and the others could do if unleashed.
But their fear of the king prevails, and they continue their approach.
Petra moves between them, uncorking the vial.
“Don’t do this,” I growl.
My pride won’t allow me to beg. Not when news of whatever is said in here is sure to make it back to Marek’s ears.
Petra finally looks up. Tears glint in her crystal-blue eyes, cutting through me, stealing my breath.
The guards each grab one of my arms. I jerk, shove, flail, but the fucking chains prevent me from using all my strength. They subdue me.
Petra lifts the vial. One guard grabs my face and digs his fingers into my cheek. I fight to keep my mouth closed, but the pressure increases, and a sliver of space opens.
That’s all she needs.
The poison pours in. I follow the tear sliding down Petra’s cheek.
Her lips quiver. “I’m sorry, my love.”
Then…my soul burns.
A gasp tears from my throat as I bolt upright. My heart hammers. My muscles burn like I’ve been dragged through fire.
I whip my head from side to side, sucking in ragged breaths. The space around me is dark, blurred, unrecognizable.
“Lara!”
The guard’s fingers dig into my cheeks, sharp and insistent. The acrid taste of poison coats my tongue. I squeeze my eyes shut and see Petra’s sorrowful eyes. I watch a tear slide down her lovely face.
“It’s okay!” Slender but firm hands grip my shoulders. “Lara, you’re okay. You’re safe.”
Ferria’s voice cuts through my panic like a lifeline. I shake my head, fighting to catch my breath, but slowly, the desperation that flooded my veins ebbs.
Was that a vision? A memory? I don’t know. But one thing is certain—my magic somehow triggered it.
My magic… I can’t feel my magic!
I search within myself, desperate to find a trace of the miraculous power that’s given my life purpose. The power I’ve just started to truly understand.
When the tiniest flicker of light sparks deep in my stomach, the muscles around my heart loosen.
Thank you, I pray to the Gods. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
“Elara?” Ferria gives my arms the tiniest shake, and her tone makes me think it’s not the first time she’s said my name. “Goddess, help me. Answer me!”
My eyes finally open and lock with hers. The terror in her expression bleeds into relief.
“There you are.”
Before I can respond, she drags me forward and wraps me in her arms.
I grunt from the force of her hug. “What is this?”
“Affection, you idiot.” She squeezes tighter. “You drained every ounce of magic from your veins and then decided to pass out. You scared me half to death.”
I lift my arms to return the embrace, mumbling, “I didn’t decide to pass out.”
She lets out a weak laugh that sounds more like a sob and draws back slightly.
I blink and take in her appearance. She wears a man’s tunic and trousers, her red curls piled on her head in disarray. I wonder why, when recent events slam into my mind, making my muscles tense once more.
“Darius!” I whip my head around and realize I’m in his tent, lying on the same cot the Shadow Prince once used. “Did it work? Where is he?”
“Yes, it worked.” Her eyes shine with pride and affection. “Darius is awake.”
“By the Gods.” My thoughts lag for half a second, then stillness settles over my mind.
I did it.
I actually did it.
I freed Darius from his curse. Light magic can destroy the dark.
I don’t know what this means. The Fae will want to know more about my powers—how I managed to help their otherwise helpless prince. And I’ll tell them. I’m not opposed to helping…as long as they respect my freedom.
I’m tired of letting people dictate what I can and can’t do.
“What happened after I passed out?”
The last I saw Draven, he looked ready to kill me.
“You mean after the explosion?”
I nod.
She leans back on her heels and sighs. “Well, Rian used his shadows to protect the rest of us from your burst of power. Then…Darius woke up.”
I blink. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” she confirms.
Huh… That’s…anticlimactic.
What are you complaining about, Elara? You won! Be happy about it.
Movement across the tent catches my attention.
My brows lift. “Anton?”
I didn’t even notice he was here.
“Elara.” My sister’s apprentice sets down the pen he’d been twirling, crosses the tent, and stops two feet away. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
“Me too.”
I glance between him and my sister. Neither meets the other’s eyes. Tension crackles in the air.
I clear my throat. “Where are the others?”
“Debriefing Darius on everything that’s happened since he fell unconscious,” Anton says. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Except Silas. He’s off scouting, determined to find out all he can about the humans who attacked us and how far their network stretches.”
My stomach knots. So much blood spilled today, and I have no doubt that it’s only the beginning. Ferria and I need to get far away from this region before things escalate.
I look around the tent, my sight slowly clearing after the unusual vision. “Why am I here?”
Anton’s forehead furrows. “Don’t you remember? You used your magic to heal Darius, and then—”
“No,” I interrupt. “Why am I here? In Darius’s tent?”
“Oh.” He blinks. “Well, technically, it’s—”
“Because my friends couldn’t very well leave the magnificent creature who saved my life to recover from her efforts while lying on the ground,” a new, rich, masculine voice cuts in.
My eyes shift and find a tall, lean figure standing in the tent opening. Lantern light flickers across the side of his face, casting his features half in shadow.
When he steps fully into the glow of the scattered lanterns in the tent, my breath catches.
Not because Darius is handsome—even ill, his sculpted features were striking.
No. I am stunned because he looks healthy. Whole. Smooth, pale skin similar to Draven’s has replaced his gray pallor. His dark eyes are wide and bright, outshone only by his dazzling white smile. He looks perfect, fully restored.
The thick rug muffles his boots as he closes the distance between us. I blink as he kneels beside Ferria, forcing my sister to shift or press against his toned arm.
My thoughts stutter when he takes my hand, his touch deliberate, his gaze unyielding. He lifts it slowly and brushes his lips across my skin.
“Hello at last, my beautiful mate.”