Chapter 2
Aurora
Idon’t miss the life I knew, but I wish I could tell my loved ones I’m okay. That I’m safe and happy.
My eyes float around the collection of faces seated around the table in Soren’s dining room. I prefer the intimate coziness of his Whispering Glenn home, Windflower, but I've grown accustomed to the grandeur of his house—I guess our house now—in Riverholm.
The table is long and rectangular and would never have fit in my tiny apartment back home.
I ignore the tightness in my chest when I think of my former life and everyone I left behind.
My vision blurs as I blink back tears, and I glance up at Soren standing by the head of the table, his muscular arms braced against the weathered wood.
He catches my gaze, and a rush of warmth spreads through me, remembering what I sacrificed to stay here with him. My skin tingles, every inch alive and hypersensitive to his presence. He’s my family now, along with others gathered in this room. And he is beyond worth anything I left behind.
He beams at me, a playful glint in his eyes, and I can’t help but shake my head, thinking of all the ways he shows me his love. His hands on my body, his lips on my skin.
His gaze trails from my legs, slowly climbing higher. When I meet his amber eyes, his expression is heated, and for a moment I forget there’s anyone else in the room. I have half a mind to run to him, have him lay me on the table, and fill my desire.
But a noise breaks my spell, and I glance around the table of gathered fae—the council Thorn called upon.
My gaze falls on Clara, whose warm, maternal nature has been a blessing for me as I’ve settled into Silverveil and learned to understand the powers I gained when I fell through the portal into the realm.
Clara is a respected healer in Riverholm and acts as the voice of many other residents in the village.
I’m fortunate to have her as a mentor and friend, and it’s endearing to see the bond she shares with Soren.
Thorn stands in the center of one side of the table, shuffling papers and stacking books he brought from his library.
His shimmering silver hair is pulled into a bun at the crown of his head, emphasizing his angular features.
His stormy grey eyes dance among the seated fae, his brows pulled together.
He’s in his element. Thorn reminds me of one of those professors from back home who is passionate about his job yet remains cool and aloof to the effect he has on people. He commands attention with his wisdom and grace.
A smile creeps across my face as my gaze lands on Olin, Soren’s oldest friend, and someone who has filled my time here with laughter and lightheartedness.
With his fiery red hair, gleaming green eyes, and an infectious grin that cracks even Soren’s stoic facade, it’s as if someone captured a warm summer’s day filled with adventure and wrapped it in an Olin-shaped package.
It took me a while to understand that charming others is part of Olin’s power. It is terrifying magic in the wrong hands, but I trust Olin implicitly.
All the other faces gathered around the table are not familiar to me.
Soren has kept me relatively stowed away over the past few months since we returned from Whispering Glen, unsure of how people would react to knowing a traveler gained powers and killed a powerful shadow weaver from the Northern Shadows.
I shudder at the memory of Isolde and her scorching face twisted in pain before she burst into ashes.
I haven’t minded being tucked away in Soren’s embrace. The last thing I want is to cause more trouble in this world than I already have. I’ve always shied away from the spotlight, and I’ve been more than happy to let Soren shield me from it.
I wander from the doorway, goosebumps dotting my skin.
My hands glide up and down my arms as I walk silently to Soren’s side, desperate to be near someone familiar and safe.
The soft chatter fades into the background.
I reach Soren, and he senses my unease. He turns away from the table of curious faces, his fingers brushing my cheek.
“You don’t have to do this.” His eyes search mine. “We can talk of the prophecy and travelers without mentioning your role in this.” His voice is low, and his protective energy wraps around me. This scares him. Possibly more than me.
I pull his hand into mine and draw in a cleansing breath. “I’m here. I stayed to be a part of your world. I can’t hide forever.”
Soren leans in and places his forehead against mine. I breathe in his woodsy scent, mixed with a hint of jasmine. My head tilts so I can press my lips to his. “I love you.”
He sighs, and his face is taut with worry as he kisses my forehead. “I love you too, My Flame.”
I smile at the tender nickname he’s given me—My Flame. He says I’m everything that encompasses a burning fire, roaring fierce and unable to be snuffed out.
He squeezes my hand before turning back toward the table of guests.
Without him saying a word, the group quiets as they focus on him.
I step back, my hand falling from his as I try to remove myself from the curious eyes of the fae.
Soren reaches out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist, pulling me closer to him.
He gives me an encouraging nod before releasing me.
We stand together. Always.
I settle by his side, shifting on my feet as the weight of everyone’s attention falls on me.
A soft hum trickles into my ears, and I lift my head to meet Clara’s emerald eyes from across the table.
Her chin tilts up and a warm grin spreads across her face, reminding me of my strength and purpose.
I tip my head, standing straighter beside my sentinel.
Soren’s deep voice fills the space. “Friends and guests, thank you for joining us on such short notice, especially those who have traveled a fair distance to be here.”
I follow his gaze as his head tips toward a particular fae sitting at the far corner of the table.
The male fae presses his lips into a hard line and narrows his eyes into slits.
Candlelight flickers, reflecting the liquid silver of his irises.
His light eyes clash with his onyx hair that is swept back into a sleek ponytail.
His striking appearance and grave expression send chills down my spine.
Soren stands tall, his shoulders pulled back.
“Before I begin, I want to introduce you to Aurora.” Heat floods my cheeks at the sound of my name on his lips and his unwavering gaze.
“Almost three months ago, she fell through a tear in the veil just outside of Riverholm. On our journey to a new portal to return her home, a shadow weaver of the Northern Shadows ambushed us.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath at the table.
“We deflected the attack, but I closed the portal to save Aurora’s world from the shadow weaver. And Aurora has chosen to stay in our land.” Soren’s face softens as his gaze lingers on mine, and my heart swells with his words.
Soren clears his throat as he focuses back on the group. “We recently discovered that Aurora possesses powers, much like our own people.”
My cheeks heat again. I drop my gaze and wring my hands, my palms slicked with sweat.
“This curiosity led Thorn to spend the past few weeks researching how it could be possible for a human traveler to fall through the veil and possess fae powers.” Soren absorbs the furrowed brows and hard-pressed lips of the council members.
A warm brush of magic on my cheek makes me lift my head to meet Clara’s eyes once again. I clench my jaw and give her a weak smile.
Soren draws in a long breath. “What he found brought to light a forgotten curse.”
A hefty male with a round face and thick brow straightens in his chair. His red hair is braided in a thick plait that falls down his back. He rakes his fingers through his dense beard as he studies Soren. “King Caledor’s curse on his son, Lord Arcturus.”
Soren’s brows pull together. “Yes. You know of it, Merric?”
“Mm-hm,” Merric replies, his thick fingers stroking down his beard. “It was a childhood story our parents used to tell us to keep us in line. ‘Stop throwing your hammer at your brother unless you want King Caledor to return and wreak havoc on your soul!’ that sort of thing.”
I stifle a laugh at his deadpanning.
Soren folds his arms across his broad chest. “But do you know the details of the curse?”
Merric shakes his head. “No. Just that long ago, there was a king who ruled over Silverveil and cursed his only son for falling in love with a human.” Merric’s harsh gaze shifts to me. My skin heats, and I stare down at the deep grooves in the table.
Soren shifts on his feet. “Well, that may have truth to it, but it goes much deeper. I will let Thorn speak of the curse in more detail.” He nods to Thorn before turning to me.
He guides us around the end of the table and pulls out a chair for me.
“Just breathe,” he whispers, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
I lower myself into the seat, and Soren kisses the top of my head before sitting beside me.
I gaze at my powerful sentinel in awe. He’s able to command the attention of a council in his home, dressed in his leathers, and yet still unabashedly shows his love for me. I blush at the thought of how I will repay his affections later.
As Soren settles in, he places his hand on my thigh, and the council members shift their attention to Thorn. He recounts his findings to the group like he did to Soren and me only days earlier.