38. Wilder
Wilder
Rior’s arrow strikes the target dead center as I walk into the training square. Wood splices all the way through. Splinters shooting into the air.
He reaches back for another arrow, not turning toward me but no doubt hearing my approach. “Aurora’s in a terrible mood this morning. Why do I suspect that has something to do with you?”
Letting the arrow fly, it finds the notch of the other, splitting it in half.
“Show-off.” I chuckle, stripping off my daggers and setting them aside.
Rior glances back, hitching an eyebrow. Not saying a word and letting the judgment in his gaze do all the work in pushing me to respond to his comment.
I unsheathe my sword, spinning it in my hand. “Aurora will be fine. She’s hanging onto something that doesn’t exist.”
“Just because it doesn’t exist to you doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist to her.” Rior shoots another arrow, and it lands through the others.
He avoids looking at me, but I don’t miss the irritation spiking in his tone, knowing it has nothing to do with me and Aurora and is more about Celeste.
She’s his brother’s mate, but Rior met her first. They fell in love quickly, and he believed she was his.
He described the bond between them as something beyond affection.
A chord that struck his soul. It wasn’t until he introduced her to his brother that he learned the mating bond lied to him. That she was Roane’s mate, not his.
Mating bonds are written in the threads of fate. Like magic, those ties are bound by blood. It’s rare, but there are cases in which similar magic or family blood causes a mistaken mating bond.
I didn’t believe it was possible until I watched it happen to one of my oldest friends.
Rior and Celeste loved each other. They believed they were fated. One look at Roane and she realized she only felt what she did for Rior because he shared blood with his brother. Sometimes, I think Rior has yet to accept that.
Of course, Rior won’t say that’s why he’s mad at me for Aurora’s bitterness. Even if she and I never loved each other or mistook each other for our mates.
“What could Aurora possibly think exists between us anymore?” I meet Rior in the center of the ring, refusing to let it go when I have nothing to apologize for.
“We have been nothing more than friends for centuries. And even when we tried to be more, we crashed and burned spectacularly. We never worked as more than friends. It was a mistake on both our parts, and we learned that lesson long ago.”
“She knows that.” Rior shakes his head. “This isn’t about her wanting to be in your bed, Wilder. You have to remember she was raised by your mother. You’re not what she wants.”
“She wants the crown.”
“Aurora has always wanted the crown.” Rior sets his bow and arrows aside, grabbing his sword. “And you gave it to her for a century while you were locked in that prison. This kingdom was hers until you returned with your mate.”
“So I should apologize for finding Elorie?” I hitch an eyebrow, readying my stance. “For being alive?”
“I’m not saying Aurora wants you dead.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it if she did.”
Rior smirks, knowing I’m right.
It’s been centuries since Aurora and I were anything more than friends.
And even when we tried for more, it wasn’t good for either of us.
She was miserable, and I was young and reckless.
I didn’t want the strings that came with the court or the relationships my mother forced on me.
It made me cold and heartless. Aurora shouldn’t have put up with it, but like me, she didn’t have a choice.
When she gets lost in fantasies and political aspirations, she forgets how much she hated me when we tried to be more. We were terrible for each other. I was terrible for her.
I suppose that might be what angers her more than losing the crown.
I’m different with Elorie. There is nothing to force. I love her beyond fate or mating bonds. She’s my other half, and I will treat her as such from now until we cease to exist in the fates.
I sigh. “I apologized to Aurora centuries ago. There’s nothing else to be said. She knows that.”
“I guess you’re right.” Rior juts his chin to my sword. “Ready to test your skills? See if you’re fit for your crown?”
The second I look down at my blade, he makes his first move.
“Cheater.” I parry, metal clashing. I barely manage to stop him from slicing open my throat.
“The Wilder I remember wouldn’t have let his guard down so easily.”
This time, I move first and fast. No magic. Just swords, grit, and blood. Battling the way I always preferred it.
Rior came to Andare to train around the same time I did. We had fun upturning the realm with our magic, but where we always found common ground was in hand-to-hand combat. No fates involved, no upper hand. We were the weapons.
My lungs heave as we continue to spar, but I ignore it.
He pushes me back, my heels meeting the edge of the training ring as my blade comes up between us, stopping him from cutting open my chest. I shove back, catching him off balance as I go on the offense.
It’s an even match, back and forth. Until my heart is thundering and sweat drips down the sides of my face.
Rior pulls back, sheathing his sword without either of us winning. “It’s getting worse?”
I ignore his question, moving to the side of the ring and grabbing a drink of water.
When I returned to Vaelier, I reluctantly told Rior, Atlas, and Perame that I was suffering the Beating because they need to know what I’m up against. Part of me wishes I hadn’t because of how they watch me now like I might drop dead at any second.
“I’m still here,” I say, turning and finding Rior watching me.
“You shouldn’t be.” He looks me up and down.
He’s right. The Beating never takes this long to claim a Fae.
From the moment the heart starts beating faster, it’s usually a matter of weeks.
The only exception is with young Fae whose magic has yet to bloom.
They survive years, while their bodies try to sustain them, searching for the magic needed to render them immortal.
But I am no child.
I close my eyes, and my heart hammers in my chest.
Each beat is a steady crash that rattles my senses. It surges in my ears, vibrates through my bones.
I catch my breath, waiting for it to calm. It never slows anymore, but the pace evens out.
“I’ll be fine.” I blink my eyes open, taking another sip.
“Atlas hasn’t been able to find anything in the old texts that might help us reverse the fate of the Beating.” Rior glances around, but no one is here, and I cast a shell of magic around us when I first approached to keep anyone from listening in on our conversation.
“We already know there’s no cure.” I rest against the stone wall at the side of the ring. “As far as why it’s taking so godsdamned long to claim me… who knows.”
Rior crosses his arms over his chest, meeting me at the side of the ring. His teeth grit, and I know he wants to argue, but there’s nothing that can be said. At some point, the Beating will claim me whether I’m ready or not.
I sense Elorie knows that too. Every time she places her palm over my chest or presses her ear to my heart, she’s feeling—listening. Knowing that the intensity of my heartbeat isn’t right. She brought me back in that prison, but it didn’t fix what had already begun.
My stomach clenches, knowing the guilt that floods her eyes every time that thought crosses her mind. She blames herself when I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. She brought me back, and even if I’m not ready to leave my mate, I’m thankful for the gift of this time with her.
My Starfire.
“Maybe Aurora will get her wish after all.” Rior’s eyebrow lifts. “Since you let her continue to play the part instead of claiming your crown, she’ll be in line should the Beating finally catch up with you.”
“I’ll claim it.” I stand taller, pretending my head doesn’t float as I shift on my feet.
“Really? When?”
I drag my hair back. “Soon.”
“When Elorie is ready?”
My eyes spear him in warning. Not that Rior fears the static filling the training ring at the mention of her name.
He steps forward, smirking, knowing he’s right. “She’s the reason you haven’t claimed your crown yet, Wilder. We all know it. First, you were too busy looking for her. Now, you’re too busy worrying what she’ll think of your loyalties when you do.”
“Elorie knows where my loyalties lie.” I step forward, aether flickering in the air around us. “My loyalty is to her and Vaelier.”
“But hers isn’t,” he says plainly, not backing down even as my nerves are on end. “She fights for our enemies as well.”
“For her people,” I clarify. “She fights for both.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I know it.” My fingers clench. “I won’t ask her to choose.”
Rior drops his chin, and my magic pulls back in. When he meets my gaze again, it isn’t judgment I find in his eyes; it’s the sympathy of one of my oldest friends.
“You can’t avoid this forever, Wilder.”
“I know.” I let out a defeated breath, scratching the back of my neck.
Sweat coats my skin where I used to battle an entire army without so much as a drop being released. The Beating changed everything.
“This isn’t about Elorie,” I say, but I’m met with a skeptical look from Rior. “Fine, it’s not entirely about Elorie… I failed my people, Rior, when they needed me most; I let their queen die.”
“You lost one battle on the shore of Rohldova,” he says, treading carefully.
“It’s not the first battle to be lost, and it won’t be the last. You can’t use that as a reason to continue refusing your crown when your people need you.
How long are you going to punish yourself for the things outside of your control?
How long are you going to deny the kingdom its king for fear of things you can’t predict? ”
“It seems it doesn’t matter when things get worse by the day.”
“Unless your mate comes through.” Rior shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I might not agree with her loyalty to Lyrichia, but at least she fights for something. I say this with love from an old friend, but when will you?”
“Not being subtle about it, are you?”
He chuckles. “I think the time for subtleties is over. I remember a male who refused to give up so much as an inch in the training ring or one body in battle. Yet he gives up his crown? This isn’t you, Wilder.”
He’s right.
I know he’s right.
There was a time I was afraid of nothing. A time I fought and bled and killed without blinking. Now, I’m hiding from my responsibilities. Losing Selia changed me. Or maybe it was meeting Elorie. I’ve never known weakness—never had any until now.
I’ll never be that male again, not when stepping out of the prison changed all that, but maybe I need to unleash a part of him. To find a way to meld the past version of myself with the present.
My people need me.
My friends need me.
My mate needs me.
Movement comes from an archway, and Rior and I both turn to Aurora rushing through. Panic has her eyes widening, so I drop the shell of magic that contains us in the training ring.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as Rior steps to my side.
“An urgent message from Darvel just came through. Something is coming in from the sea. The mercreatures sent a warning.”
Mercreatures avoid the shore—they avoid worrying about what battles we face on the land, keeping to their own beneath the water. If they’re communicating with Darvel, something must be terribly wrong at sea.
I grab my daggers, quickly sheathing them and my sword.
“Where are you going?” Aurora’s eyebrows pinch.
“To check on the battlefront.”
“You could send someone to do that for you.” Her eyes narrow as she huffs out an unamused breath. “Always a warrior instead of a king.”
“Call me what you wish, Aurora.” I throw out my palm, opening a Gate for me and Rior as the breeze tosses Aurora’s dark hair around her shoulders. “I will fight for my people under either name.”