46. Wilder
Wilder
I stand in the doorway watching Seren run a wet cloth over Letia’s forehead. She’s been in and out of sleep since we removed the aeraliss ring, fighting consciousness. Her skin where the ring once sat is no longer laced with angry crimson veins.
They’re glowing gold.
Liquid sunlight threads climb Letia’s skin where the red trails were. They glimmer up her chest and neck to her cheek. Her skin isn’t just bright; she’s beaming.
When we stripped the ring from her hand, we planned to move it to her other one as fast as we could, but that never happened. The moment it was taken off, the band cracked in half, and the pain ceased. Letia collapsed in relief and passed out.
The two pieces of the ring now sit on the table beside her bed.
She’s alive. Breathing well.
It doesn’t make sense.
I turn to leave the room and find Rior waiting for me in the hallway.
“How is this possible?” he asks, falling into step beside me. “Are you sure she’s not Fae? Or at least half, like Elorie?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “She’s not Fae. I had an alchemist double-check after she survived the removal of the ring. Her blood is purely human.”
“The other humans haven’t had any reaction to the aeraliss.” Rior glances my way. “And if she is human, she shouldn’t be breathing right now. We’ve all seen what happens when a mortal comes here without the rings.”
I swallow hard, knowing he’s right.
When the Arch to the Mortal Realm was freely open, there were humans who tried to step through to our side. They went mad in a matter of minutes before shredding into aether.
“I don’t know how it’s possible, but Letia’s blood is human. I’m sure of it.” I shake my head. “Is Celeste here yet?”
This time, it’s Rior who stiffens. His shoulders pull tight as he nods. “She’s in the meeting hall ready for you.”
“You’re welcome to sit this one out if you’d like.”
“I’ll be fine.” His answer is quick, but his tone is clipped.
Rior has done his best to avoid Celeste since she left for Zealeh with his brother, spending the past few hundred years as far south as possible.
It wasn’t until the Arch to Sarrow closed with his brother on the other side that Rior attempted to reach out.
Celeste, in her grief, refused to reciprocate, either because of their past or because Rior refuses to accept that Roane is dead, and his hope hurts her more.
But after she rejected him then, he stopped trying, looking out for her from afar and making sure she had no inkling that he was watching over her.
It’s not my place to get involved in that particular matter, so I keep my thoughts to myself as we head to the meeting hall.
The doors are open when we arrive, and Celeste is a golden beacon in the center of the room.
Her arms are crossed over her chest, one finger tapping at her annoyance or boredom.
Her umber skin glows with the sun streaming through the window.
It shimmers off the headband of golden leaves that keep her tight black curls off her face.
A black silk dress hugs her body, pinching inward where a cage of gold hugs her ribs like a corset. Large gold vines wrap her wrists and forearms.
She’s dressed in the royal attire of Zealeh.
While there is only one crown in Vaelier—the one I’m set to claim—Zealeh has always treated their lords and ladies as a second set of royalty. Their customs are strong, and their people are devoted to their territory.
Rior’s step doesn’t falter as we walk into the room, but my ears perk at the slight click of his teeth when Celeste’s dark-brown eyes move from me to him.
“Beautiful as ever, Celeste.” I approach, hands in my pockets.
Her dark eyes flick to me. “Flattery will only get you so far, Wilder. Especially if you plan on stretching my people thin.”
“We are all the people of Vaelier, are we not?” I challenge.
Her face remains completely passive.
“Maybe she forgot,” Rior snaps, stopping to lean against the wall with a generous distance between them. “After all, we know how easy it is for her to cut things off the moment they’re gone. Maybe she’s too busy ruling my brother’s territory to notice the rest of the realm is suffering.”
I should have known better than to bring Rior in here. Hurt bleeds through the venom in his words. The pain fresh even after many decades.
Celeste’s eyes narrow, flitting to Rior. “It’s for your brother that I will protect my territory to my dying breath. Which is more than can be said for you when you’ve all but abandoned your people.”
“Roane didn’t want me there anymore.” Rior’s eyes drag over her. “Perhaps he felt threatened.”
“How dare you—” Celeste steps forward, and I shift between them.
“This isn’t the battle we need to be fighting right now,” I remind them, the mountain groaning around us as Rior’s irritation threatens the ground we stand on. “I called this meeting to bring us together, not tear us apart.”
Celeste lifts her chin. “Says the king who has yet to bring us together with his own crown.”
The truth of her words pierces through. She’s right. I have yet to bring them together because of my own reservations. I’ve let them suffer as I battled my mistakes. And instead of healing my realm, I’ve left them to continue this fight without truly joining them, even after my return.
“You’re right,” I say.
Celeste pulls back, surprised I’ve admitted as much when it’s rare. Or maybe it’s that my mother never would have.
“Don’t repeat my mistakes.” I step toward her. “I have no doubt what your armies are up against in Zealeh. If it’s anything like what I saw on the beaches of Andare today, we’re running out of time. There is only one way we can continue standing, and that’s together. Darvel needs your help.”
Her jaw shifts, her glare softening the slightest. “What is he asking of my people?”
Her question is the slightest concession, so I take it. “He needs you to move your army farther south to apply pressure at Everquell.”
“There is no fighting what spills from that vein.”
“I know. All we can do is hold it as long as we can.”
“And how long will that be?”
“I don’t know,” I answer her honestly. “But I’m doing all I can to change the tide in this. I need you to trust me, Celeste. You did once. Will you help?”
Her face softens as she considers me. Finally, she nods. “I will do what I can without sacrificing my territory.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Celeste glances around the room, avoiding Rior’s gaze, which hasn’t left her. “It’s quieter here than I remember. I wondered if I’d meet your mate on my trip. Rumors follow your half-human as far north as the islands.”
“She has a way of drawing attention.” I smirk, raking my hair back. “But she’s away right now looking for something that might help us.”
I glance at Rior, neither of us stating exactly where Elorie went.
If Celeste finds out we managed to open the Arch to the Mortal Realm, she’ll demand we try and open the Arch to Sarrow in search of Roane.
I know Rior must have thought it the moment this worked, but he’s held back saying anything, understanding the risk.
The Arch to Sarrow is not the same as the one to the Mortal Realm.
Just like visiting Sarrow is not the same as stepping into any other realm.
Should the fates decide, a soul passing through an Arch to Sarrow may never see the other side.
Instead, they might fall into the seven strata, lost in the After.
Even if Roane survived and made it through, Rior and I were there when the Arch to Sarrow closed. We saw what came of the other side. Roane stepped into darkness to hold back what surged from the After. Even if we could reopen that door, I doubt he’s still there.
“Well, let’s hope your mate finds whatever it is she’s after,” Celeste says, her gaze drifting.
I’m about to agree with her when something sparks, drawing my attention. I glance at the doorway just as Atlas and Greer step through. Blood stains their torn clothes as they saunter into the room.
“You actually lived.” Rior chuckles.
“Was there any doubt?” Atlas grins.
I walk to meet them. “You’ve looked better, my friend.”
“Don’t lie to yourself.” He grins. “I always look good.”
Greer rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. I hoped this trip would help them work through their tension, but with how they stand a distance apart, seeming as irritated with each other as ever, clearly that wasn’t the case. At least they didn’t kill each other.
“Celeste.” Atlas grins as she walks up beside me. “And here I thought our trip was eventful.”
His eyes bounce between Celeste and Rior, who are now refusing to look at each other.
“Please tell me it was at least fruitful,” I say.
“We found him. Sort of,” Greer answers, and the grin slips from Atlas’s cheeks. “We at least know how we might be able to find him.”
“Depending on how everyone else’s journey went,” Atlas says, glancing at Greer, who won’t meet his gaze.
Greer glances around the room. “Where is Elorie?”
“Not back yet.”
Both of them tense, and I’m forced to face the truth I’ve been avoiding while I kept busy in their absence.
We expected Elorie to return with Callum and Perame before Atlas and Greer were done.
They went to fetch an object, which should have been a simple task.
The fact that they aren’t back yet means something didn’t go as planned.
The color leaves Atlas’s face, and I assume he’s worried what that means for his sister. Greer glances at him briefly, sympathy flickering as if she realizes that as well.
“All we can do is be ready when they do return,” I say, refusing to let my confidence fail me now. “Go get cleaned up, and then we need to go over everything that happened.”
Atlas nods, swallowing hard. When he and Greer leave, they split in opposite directions, refusing to offer the other so much as a glance.
“I see your court is busy.” Celeste hitches an eyebrow, looking up at me.
“As I said, I just need you to hold the line for now. I’m working on a solution.”
Her nod is tight, and she doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Celeste is the picture of a leader with or without her mate.
“I should get back,” she says, relaxing her arms at her sides.
Rior surprises me by stepping forward. “I’ll see you out.”
It takes her a moment to move. Her teeth grit as she stares up at him. It isn’t until he finally waves for her to walk first that she accepts his offer.
Everywhere I turn, tensions are thick. Here in my court and beyond.
I move to the window to watch the birds sitting on the branch outside. The breeze rustles their feathers, and I lower the magical shell to let it brush over me. I let it wash my reservations aside as I push my shoulders back.
It’s time.
I know it’s time.
I’ve delayed; I’ve distracted myself.
Atlas and Greer’s return is the final thing forcing me to look in the mirror and face what I’ve been avoiding. When Elorie returns, we’ll see this to an end. I need to finish what I started when I placed that crown on my head in the Ley Court before the Rite.
I close my eyes, thinking of my mother.
She told me once she was torn when her father died, that she considered rejecting the crown and offering it to her brother. I asked her why she didn’t, and her answer was simple.
“Because they needed me.”
The blood of the kingdom to guide them. To protect them. To lead them.
They need that certainty again now. Cohesion that only I can bring.
I let my mind travel deeper into the threads. Into the darkness Elorie usually stirs. She isn’t there now, too far for me to reach her. But there are hints. Her emotions linger. Some of hope, others worry. I snag on one that feels like dread, and I caress my magic over it, soothing it.
For her.
For us.
I send her a thought, a kiss of aether. I send her a brush of hope in case she needs it. Even if I struggle to find it myself without her.