Chapter 39
Every nerve in my body short-circuits. A tidal wave’s roar fills my ears, so loud it drowns out thought.
I gape at the kneeling Fae in front of me, my mouth dry, struggling to convince myself I misheard him.
But Darius doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t so much as shift his weight. He meets my stare head-on, calm confidence radiating off him like heat. His eyes gleam with knowing and amusement.
A prickle crawls along my skin, as if the air itself has soured. My stomach knots, twisting tighter with each breath.
This is wrong… I think I’m going to be sick.
“What the hells did you just say?” Ferria’s shout rips through the nauseating haze.
The sound snaps my mind back into place. I wrench my hand out of Darius’s grasp. He lets go easily.
“Don’t answer that, Darius,” Anton growls as his eyes narrow on his prince’s back. “You’re lucky he didn’t hear you joking around like that.”
A glimmer of mischief sparks in Darius’s gaze. “Are you sure about that?”
Before I can blink, a shadow whips into the tent, cutting the air with an icy whoosh. I stumble back as the dark form halts over the cot, its sheer mass flickering black and gray like smoke over embers.
Then it dives for Darius.
I shriek.
Darius laughs.
Ferria and I stare, frozen, as the darkness hauls the prince up by the front of his tunic.
“We will speak again soon, sweet Elara,” he calls, laughter spilling out as the shadow drags him toward the tent flap.
A pulse of black radiates outward, then Darius is shoved out of the tent, his amusement still echoing in my ears while my uneasy stomach relaxes with his departure.
“Excuse me,” Anton huffs.
Without so much as a glance at us, he strides out after his prince.
Ferria and I remain staring at the parted fabric long after the shadow swallows them both.
Finally, Ferria mutters, “What just happened?”
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “No idea. But did he really call me…”
The word lodges like a thorn. Too ludicrous to say aloud.
“Yeah…he did.” A haunted flicker crosses her face as she looks at me, wary. “Is it true?”
My eyes widen. “How am I supposed to know?”
She shrugs. “You’ve been reading that Fae book. I thought maybe you read something about…that.”
“I don’t know anything about mates,” I snap, tugging the blanket tighter around my waist like armor.
“Oh.”
I bristle at the disappointed note in her voice and change the subject. “So…Anton is Fae.”
She exhales hard, frustration leaking into the sound. “Apparently so.”
“Did you have any idea?”
“None.” Her mouth hardens. “And I don’t know if I’m more furious at him for deceiving me…or at myself for being too blind to see it.”
Ferria and Anton worked side by side, hours on end, for years. He was her apprentice, but she considered him a friend. And after that dance at the Late King’s Festival…who knows? It could’ve been more.
But not now.
“Have you spoken to him about it?” I ask gently.
“No. And I don’t want to.” Her frown deepens as her eyes sweep over me. “I’m more concerned with what happened to you.”
My smile is brittle. “Which part?”
“Did Lev really lock you in a cell?”
Unease prickles hot down my spine.
I trace the blanket’s threads. “I don’t know if he was the one who put me there. But he didn’t free me, either.”
Her nostrils flare. “That bastard.”
“Yeah.” I snort, though it comes out shaky. “That’s what I said, too.”
She squeezes my hand, eyes shining with guilt. “I should have been there. I should have tried—”
“No.” My gaze snaps up, and I grip her hand. “Anton was right to get you out. If you’d stayed, they’d have locked you up too.”
Even imagining it threatens to tear my heart to shreds.
Her fingers tighten, tears brimming. “How did you escape?”
I sigh and tug her so she sits on the edge of the cot. Then I tell her about Silas. About Anton breaking the shackles. About healing Dian.
I don’t speak of the torture. Her eyes flick to my throat, to my wrists, lingering too long. Maybe she knows. Maybe she doesn’t. Either way, I won’t burden her with confirmation.
“So it’s true, then,” she murmurs, her shoulders falling ever so slightly. “We won’t be able to go back to our old lives.”
The ache in her words pierces me. Both Ferria and I worked hard to establish lives for ourselves. We overcame the odds and proved everyone who doubted Kinless children could ever amount to anything wrong.
We stood tall and took every insult thrown our way. Every prejudice. Every judgment. And now we have to leave it all behind.
We both knew there was a chance our magic would be discovered and we’d have to run, but we certainly never thought Fae would come into town and our neighbors would turn against us. And that’s without even knowing about our powers.
Ferria sighs. Then, her voice sharpens. “I can’t believe those assholes lied about the astlerium. My entire life’s work—nothing but a lie.”
I slide my arm around her shoulder and draw her into my side. The cot creaks under us. “I’m sorry.”
There’s nothing else to say. No vague optimism or encouragement will be enough to erase the tragic truth of what’s transpired in Verdanthia.
The Elders ordered men and boys into those mines to harvest a metal they hoped to use as weapons against Fae. The men who were supposed to have the town’s best interests in mind actively endangered everything anyone has ever built. And now they’re not even in power.
General Ironheart and his lackeys may have lost a considerable number of their fighting men, but I have no doubt they will hold on to their new leadership positions. Verdanthians are docile. Submissive. They won’t stand against a man they respect as highly as the general.
“We have to tell everyone,” Ferria says suddenly, her voice alight with conviction.
I blink. “What?”
She pulls away, meeting my gaze. “We have to tell everyone the astlerium shipments are a lie—that our leaders were planning to start a war with Fae this entire time. People deserve to know.”
She’s right. Of course she is. But—
“Ferria.” I speak softly. I don’t want to upset her further, but there’s no way around it. “No one will believe us.”
“Then we make them believe us.” Crimson flashes in her gaze.
I jolt.
Ferria presses on, oblivious to her slip of power. “We cannot stand by. We know the truth. We must tell it.”
A low voice cuts like a blade. “You are naive.”
Our heads snap toward the tent flap.
Rian stands there, shadows flowing off him like water, smooth and graceful, pooling at his feet. Gone are his agitation and anger from when he dealt with Lev. He’s once more the stoic, composed Fae I’ve come to know.
Darius and Jaxon stand on either side of him, arms crossed with blank expressions, though Jaxon’s eyes trail over Ferria for a prolonged moment before he turns his attention to Rian.
I force myself not to look at Darius. The memory of his preposterous claim is too fresh.
“What did you say?” Ferria snaps.
Her eyes flash, but thankfully they’re no longer red. Her power is under control. For now.
Rian’s smoky gaze fixes on my sister. “No citizen of Verdanthia will believe you. Not without proof.”
She bristles. “You don’t know that—”
“I do.” His irises gleam silver, then dim. “Humans are programmed for survival. And no matter what you do or say, they will not willingly believe the men they have trusted with their lives would betray them.”
Her hands curl into fists.
I tense. The air tastes metallic, charged.
“And before you say it,”—Rian holds up a hand, interrupting Ferria’s impending retort—“you do not have proof, Ferria Stonebloom. You have your word against theirs. And I do not need to remind you how little the majority of Verdanthian citizens value females or their opinions.”
Unease curdles in my gut when sparks of Ferria’s power pepper her flesh. But after several deep breaths while she holds Rian’s stare, she finally relaxes her fingers.
“Fine.” Her head falls forward. “You’re right.”
Sympathy ghosts across Rian’s face. “If it is any consolation, I wish I weren’t.”
After another exhale, Ferria lifts her gaze. “So, what now? Are you going to tell your king what happened here? Will all our neighbors suffer for the crimes of a few evil men?”
A shadow unfurls at Rian’s back, thick and restless. “No. We will not be reporting this failed rebellion to the king.”
My brows rise.
Ferria stiffens. “Really?”
“Yes.” A tendril of shadow slithers over his shoulder and down his arm, flowing to his twitching hand. “We have a more pressing mission. We cannot afford the time it would take to return to Eranthia to share the news.”
The appreciation that had been building inside me bursts like a pricked bubble.
Of course.
They aren’t protecting innocent lives. They’re protecting their own schedule. Why would I expect anything else?
Because they saved your life.
Because they needed me to save their prince, I correct myself.
Now that my purpose is served, I’m disposable. Just like every human south of the Veil.
The sting of that truth sinks deep, thorn-sharp, and I’m so tangled in it I nearly miss the argument erupting beside me.
“Absolutely not!” Ferria lurches to her feet, defiance blazing. “Elara and I are staying together.”
I blink at her, then Rian. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t even shifted his expression. Calm, collected, carved from stone. While my sister looks ready to set the entire tent on fire.
Her face flushes, skin pulled taut with fury, sparks dancing between her trembling fingers. Jaxon watches her like a hawk, assessing, waiting for the chance to strike. Darius’s lips part in something close to awe.
But Rian? He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t fear her power. He stands as if fire itself couldn’t scorch him.
“That is not an option,” he says coolly.
“Of course it’s an option,” Ferria snaps, flames licking up her arms. “You have no say over where Elara and I go. She saved your friend. Her business with you is finished. We will leave Verdanthia together, and you can’t stop us.”
My pulse spikes. The Fae want to separate us? Why?