35. Greer
Greer
I’m not hungry. Haven’t been in months, even though I’ve forced food down to keep up my strength. But if I sit staring at the walls any longer, I’ll be forced to sit inside my head, and that’s the last place I want to be right now. So I reluctantly decide to go to dinner.
Atlas is leaning against the wall outside of my room with his arms and ankles crossed, waiting for me when my door swings open. He lifts off the wall, his purple gaze skimming me head to toe as his eyebrow hitches.
“Done looking yet?” My eyes narrow, which makes his smile widen.
“At you? Never.” He winks.
I grumble, shaking my head and walking past him. My sheer red dress is airy, flowing behind me. Two panels drape over my shoulders, covering my breasts and securing at my waist. It’s not often I dress in something this revealing, but the dress is a relief from the heat of the Solace desert.
Atlas must feel the same about the heat, given his thin attire breezes with his steps as well.
His soft green pants flow around his legs, and his sleeveless tunic is open, showing off his thick muscles.
Down the front of his chest is a line of rune markings that start at his neck and trail in a line somewhere below the band of his pants.
When he catches me glancing at his thighs—at the strong muscle flexing beneath the thin fabric—he breathes out a laugh, and I look away.
With a dismissive sigh, I brush my curls off my shoulder.
They’re looser tonight, tucked behind my pointed ears, showing off the silver-winged cuffs that were a gift from my mother.
In Echme, ear cuffs are worn for ceremonial purposes.
The silver points represent the metal threads tied to the posts that summon blessings of the gods to the sand.
The wings represent the freedom our magic brings us.
My mother gifted these to me as a reminder of the beauty of our home when we moved to Tempest. After I lost her, I wore them as a reminder of the hope she always held for something better.
But I no longer wear them in celebration. They are a mark of both joy and battle. They are a testament to the family that made me the point of a blade. Sharp and unyielding.
“Red.” Atlas scans me so thoroughly I might as well be wearing nothing.
“Yes, Atlas. It’s a red dress. How observant of you.” I roll my eyes. “What about it?”
“I expected you to be wearing silver.”
I wish anyone else was here to entertain him so he’d stop trying to talk to me. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Why would I wear silver?”
“Silver and black seem to be your thing. You’re always wearing them.”
Because those were the staples of my wardrobe in the Ley Court, and it became habit. Silver Guard armor, black and gray leathers. I don’t appreciate him reminding me of what I’ve carried from years serving a Crown that did nothing but destroy all I care about.
I grumble, pulling my shoulders back. “Stop paying attention to what my things are.”
“Wish I could.”
When I glance up at Atlas, his expression surprises me. The flirty smile has fallen, and in its place is something genuine. Something borderline sad that makes me believe he really does wish he could stop paying attention to me. That hint of his true self beneath the bravado catches me off guard.
So I concede and offer him a bit more than I usually would. “Red is my favorite color.”
“You wear it well.”
“It has nothing to do with how well I wear it.” Or how the heat of his eyes appreciating me wearing it makes my cheeks heat.
“No?”
“No.” I step past him as he waits for me to walk into the dinner hall first. “It’s to remind you that just because I don’t have my sword on me right now doesn’t mean you should forget the blood I’ll happily draw should you give me a reason to.”
Atlas’s mouth falls open, his eyebrows pinching. Surprise shifts into wild amusement as a smile stretches his face. The boldest, biggest laugh bursts out of him, and it’s… electrifying.
He steps into the room behind me, walking closer now and dropping his voice so only I can hear. “I don’t doubt that for a moment, Greer Maliren. And it’s blood I’ll willingly spill if it makes you happy.”
My breath catches, but I quickly mask it. I roll my shoulders back, refusing to let him get any hint of the static suddenly coursing through my veins. Atlas’s attention is so intense; I can hardly breathe, hardly think past the warmth in the room.
Heat that goes beyond what’s left from the sun beating down on the desert all day.
It’s a heat that Atlas carries as his gaze skims the crowd around us, and I realize he’s doing more than holding this conversation.
With every glance, every flick of attention toward us, Atlas is using his magic to sear into their minds, manipulating their memories. Wielding his flames.
Any warmth I felt toward him a moment ago turns to ice at the blatant invasion of privacy. I hate it, even if I understand that’s why he was sent on this mission with me.
“What are the limits?” I ask, my tone sharper than it was a moment ago. “Can you erase any thought they’ve ever had should you wish?”
“Technically, yes. I can erase any memory from any time.” He glances at me.
“So they could look you in the eyes and be thinking about you right now, and by the time they glance away, you’re gone from their thoughts?”
“Something like that.”
I huff out a breath, trudging ahead, while he follows.
“That bothers you,” he guesses, not letting his gaze leave the room now that we’re surrounded.
“It’s an invasion of free will. What if that memory you stripped changes their future actions? How will they know what’s real? What’s altered?” The irritation flaring is about more than Atlas, but he’s at my side, so I direct it all at him.
It’s fire magic and light magic. It’s mind reading and manipulation. It’s the fact that it’s so easy for wielders to do what they wish, no matter who gets hurt in the process. Where does that leave the rest of us? Believing the wrong things? Fighting for the wrong Crown?
Pawns in their game.
“What you do is wrong.” My teeth clench.
“What I do is necessary so you can walk through this room without them summoning their king to execute you.” His voice is flat and unapologetic.
“Was that your excuse in the Ley Court too? You were fulfilling Wilder’s mission, no matter whose mind was tampered with in the process. I don’t appreciate being treated like a plaything.”
Atlas steps in front of me, stopping me in my path. “Is that what this is really about? You’re worried I erased your memories in the Ley Court? I never touched your mind, Greer.”
“You can’t lie to me. I don’t remember you.”
He smiles, but there’s something sad about it. “You wouldn’t.”
“Because you made it that way?”
“No.” Atlas shakes his head slowly. “Because you didn’t see me.”
Around us, the room buzzes. Fae laugh and dance and drink. Flesh meets flesh. Haelmarrow smoke hangs heavy in the air. But I don’t look away from Atlas, even as I feel his magic stretching the room. Flames singeing the memories of those around us. He doesn’t blink.
And I believe him.
I didn’t see him when he was in the Ley Court, and for some reason, he seems upset about that fact.
“Ah, you made it,” Lochlan interrupts, greeting us with a stick of haelmarrow in each hand.
He gives one to each of us, and I immediately bring mine to my lips, trying to ignore whatever silent message it seemed Atlas was trying to send me. My mind floats with a deep inhale. Spots curl at the edges of my vision.
It quiets my mind.
It’s peaceful.
With an exhale, I shift away from Atlas, from the constant heat radiating off him. And I hate how cold my veins feel as I do it. Even as I take another hit and let my mind float with the drugs, my bones are suddenly chilled.
Smoke curls from my lips, dancing upward until it strikes the shell that now settles around the three of us, blocking us from the rest of the room. Even with Atlas in their minds, we can’t be too careful about who might be listening.
“I heard back from my scouts early. Two returned shortly after sunset.” Lochlan frowns.
“How many did you send out?”
“Twelve.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. The odds of us surviving are slim if that’s the case.
“There’s word something surges in the forests at the northern beach in Echme. Something not like the Well. But also, not like that of this realm.”
“Malachi and his orb,” I guess.
Lochlan nods. “All signs indicate it must be him. But those parts of the woods are impassable. Anyone who enters doesn’t come out. Malachi’s magic protects him and whoever he’s with, but he’s hidden there for a reason. No one, enemy or friend, can get to him unless he wishes.”
“That’s what he thinks.” I wring my hands together. “There are paths through Echme’s forests if you’re careful. But you have to find your way on foot.”
“You’ve done this?”
I shake my head. “Not personally. I’ve only ever taken a Gate in and out of Echme, like most. But if Malachi is hiding in the woods, I have an idea where he might be from stories of those who made it through. We’ll take the paths they talked about.”
“As reassuring as that plan sounds…” Atlas hitches his eyebrow. “There has to be another way to confirm it’s him without risking it.”
“There isn’t. Not if he’s in Echme. The lightning storms make it impossible to seek out certain magics. The static tampers with even a seer’s senses. We can’t rely on a guess.”
Atlas bites the inside of his cheek, thinking. “And we won’t know his next move unless we can get close enough.”
I nod, not liking the plan any more than Atlas seems to but knowing there’s no other choice.
While it would have been nice to arrive in Solace and be told Malachi is waiting out in the open on the beaches of Rohldova for us to attack, it’s no surprise he’s hiding.
The only way we’ll get the upper hand is if we figure out what he’s up to.
After all, Elorie went to a much more dangerous place for her mission. Into the unknown of the Mortal Realm. They may be human, but they are vicious. I’ve heard the stories of the things they’ve done to Fae there.
If Elorie can risk her life for Lyrichia, this is the least I can do.
I look up at Atlas, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me. “Do you think your magic can keep us hidden long enough for us to reach the borders of Echme? After that, we won’t need to be hidden in the forest.”
Atlas quirks an eyebrow. “Do you think you can stop offending me with your lack of faith in my skills?”
“Why are Vaelier warriors so full of themselves?” I roll my eyes, and Lochlan chuckles.
“Let me know what you might need to make the trip easier. Although, I doubt there’s much apart from blades that will help once you enter the trees.”
“Thank you.” I nod, and Lochlan returns it.
A whoosh of sound floods my ears as he drops the shell of magic around us, releasing us to the room. Even with it gone, the heat from Atlas continues to hang heavy.
Lochlan waves a hand at an approaching guard, stopping him where he is. “My guards need me, but I’ll come see you before you leave. When will that be?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“Of course. You never waste a moment, Maliren.” He grins, glancing at Atlas. “Have fun keeping up with this one.”
“I always do.” Atlas smirks, and I shake my head.
Lochlan disappears into the crowd, meeting with his guards at the edge of the room.
While he maintains a comfortable confidence in the presence of others, I’ve seen Lochlan enough times over the years to notice the weight he carries.
I can’t help it when my magic is immediately in tune with those around me.
Unlike most seers, I don’t read the past or the future; I glimpse within. Not in a way that allows me to read thoughts, but in a way that gives me a glimpse of their feelings. I can sense their mood and their magic. Sometimes even their fate.
If I’d have stayed in Tempest longer, I might be able to manipulate magic and feelings instead of just amplify them like I can now. But I always preferred a blade, something physical to cling to. Which is why I’ve yet to fully learn the depths my magic.
It’s for the best, I tell myself. Gods forbid I suffer the onslaught of others’ emotions more than I already do. When Atlas said, You didn’t see me, I could barely keep my knees locked for a moment.
“Wine?” Atlas offers, and I nod, not saying anything when words clog in my throat.
I watch him cross the room to get me a glass, but his attention never leaves me.
More specifically, his magic never leaves me.
I’m surrounded by Fae, yet he keeps me a secret from them all.
Maybe that’s why his gaze is even more intense when it snags on mine tonight.
He’s the only one who will remember I was here.
A pretty Fae with short black hair stops beside him and smiles. She brushes his arm, and his grin deepens her blush. He’s allowing her just enough of a relief from his magic to entertain this. His attention splits, and I feel it. A blade slicing through my chest.
He smiles at her, and I don’t wait for the wine. I don’t bother worrying if someone will remember me as I turn and leave the room.
I can’t be here any longer, and I hate it.