Chapter 4
I blink once. Twice. My pulse drums in my ears as I search for evidence that the sight before me is a figment of my imagination.
But everything stays stubbornly, impossibly real.
The city that Darius has identified as Port City sprawls out before me—an impossible jewel glittering against the crescent curve of the bay.
The harbor gleams under morning light, ships of every size crowding the docks.
Sails of emerald, sapphire, and pristine white rise like banners into the sky, their colors signaling merchants and nations I’ve never heard of.
My head spins.
I’ve lived in Verdanthia my entire life. The poverty-stricken town is less than two days’ ride from here. Yet I never knew this place existed. I never imagined something like this could exist in Astloria. Not after the Shadow Wars.
But here it is. Glistening. Thriving. Vibrant. Real.
Gazing down from the crest of the hill outside Port City’s border, I take in the city that defies everything I thought I knew about our broken, human kingdom.
Draven leads our traveling party down the sloped hill that reaches the edge of the bustling city. We left the supply wagon behind, concealed by a wall of shadow. Jaxon and Darius ride on either side of me, both in high spirits.
My body sways with the mare’s stride, my emotions running high. The still-healing magic in my core wakes, restless and just as curious as I am.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Jaxon looks from me to the glimmering city below with an easy grin.
I blow out a slow breath. “How?”
One of his brows arches. “How, what?”
I adjust my grip on the reins. Now that we’re out of the forest, Jaxon said it was no longer necessary to attach my horse to his. I pray to the Gods that the mare doesn’t decide to race off. I wouldn’t be able to stop her.
“How does this place exist?” I ask with a slow shake of my head. “How was it not destroyed during the Shadow Wars?”
“We’re at the southern edge of the continent.” He gives a casual shrug, as if that explains everything.
It doesn’t.
“So?”
He glances at Darius. “Surely you know the fighting never reached this far? The human army was defeated in the north.”
“Yes, but…” I throw my arm toward the gleaming bay. “How are there ships here? The king cut off all trade between Astloria and foreign lands.”
King Marek ensured humans would be entirely dependent on Fae for our survival.
“Trade was never banned,” Jaxon says, his tone careful. “In fact, the king encourages it. The taxes he collects on the imports fill his coffers nicely.”
That…that can’t be right.
If trade flows freely between Astloria and other nations, then why are so many in Verdanthia living on the edge of poverty?
The only tradesmen who reach us come from the north. Supplies are limited. Always have been.
We’ve never even heard of Port City.
My stomach drops.
Were we intentionally kept in the dark?
A strange heaviness gathers overhead. I look up and confirm the sensation isn’t a shadow.
No. The storm of emotions comes from within me.
My still-weak magic is responding in a way I don’t understand.
Draven clears his throat. “Cease all talk of our king. We’re nearly within earshot.”
Shadows coalesce over his head, shrouding him in darkness before dissipating and revealing a face with ordinary, human features.
A gust of wind rustles my hair. I brush aside the loose strands blocking my vision and find that Jaxon and Darius have done the same.
They resemble themselves, but their sudden lack of ethereal Fae perfection is jarring.
Darius kicks his heels into his horse and gallops forward, taking position beside Draven. The two begin to talk in quiet tones.
I study the brothers. Draven’s bulkier form is much more noticeable when riding beside his smooth-talking brother.
I assess Jaxon from the corner of my eye. “Are you related to anyone?”
His eyes glint. “It may be hard to believe, but this godlike face and body didn’t just appear out of thin air. I’ve got a mother to thank for it.”
My lips twitch. “I meant, are you related to anyone here?”
“No, I’m a lord’s orphaned bastard.”
Bastard?
The word stings in its honesty, but he says it without shame.
Does Fae society not care about such things?
I tilt my head to the side, studying the easygoing Fae. “How did you end up in the prince’s inner circle?”
Draven growls and whips his head back to me. “Do not mention the prince.”
I flinch and follow his gaze to a group of vibrantly dressed men and women walking, arm in arm, on the other side of the path. They eye our group with interest but no suspicion.
Not yet.
I bite my cheek and wait for us to pass before prompting, “Well?”
“As a boy, I was sent to the tenements in the capital.” Jaxon’s voice softens. “There, I showed promise with shadow magic and was ordered to train with the army. That’s where Rian found me.”
I shouldn’t ask anything about Rian.
I shouldn’t care to learn more.
But curiosity digs its claws in. “He found you?”
He nods.
“What happened?”
Jaxon’s lips twitch. “I struck him.”
I choke. “You what?”
“I struck him,” he repeats. “My squad’s captain was a mean brute, but he saw potential in me. When his trainers brought him to the army’s training yard to spar with us, my captain sent me over to show them what I could do.”
“How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
I balk. “And him?”
“Ten.” He smirks. “And before you feel sorry for him, you should know he was wielding shadows by the age of five with the expertise of males two centuries old. And at ten, he could defeat grown males who don’t wield shadows in a fight.”
My forehead furrows. “I don’t understand. Aren’t all Shadow Fae able to wield shadows?”
“Mother save me,” Draven snaps. “Will you two shut the hells up?”
I jolt at his tone, but he’s right.
What’s the point in concealing their true nature if Jaxon and I reveal their identities with our discussion?
I nod once.
Draven clenches his jaw, eyes flashing with warning, then turns back around.
“So…” I pitch my voice low. “You were a good fighter and impressed Rian.”
I brace for Draven to chastise me for using the prince’s name, but when he doesn’t, I continue, “Then he invited you into his inner circle?”
Jaxon nods. “That’s the short version of it.”
There’s so much more I want to ask, but we’ve turned onto another paved road. This one is wider and filled with riders and wagons, coming to and from a building that looks like a stable. Except it’s three times larger than any stable I’ve ever seen.
I readjust my hold on the reins and ask, “How long have you known him?”
How long have you been friends with the future ruler of the Shadow Fae?
How long have you chosen to do his dirty work alongside him?
I ignore the fact that Rina and Jaxon act like friends.
Can one truly be friends with a superior—with someone who holds their fate in their hands?
Power disparities aren’t conducive to healthy relationships.
Jaxon answers, “Seventeen years this last Winterfell.”
“What?”
The mare underneath me whinnies in protest.
Passersby flick curious gazes my way, lingering on my long, blonde hair.
I clear my throat and once again pitch my voice low. “What do you mean, seventeen years?”
Jaxon’s eyebrows knit together. “I don’t understand the question.”
I shake my head and tighten my grip on the reins. Draven and Darius lead us to the stable-like building. It’s crowded. I need to ask my question quickly.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
I nearly drop the reins.
There’s no way…
“And Rian?” I choke out.
Jaxon lifts a brow. “Twenty-seven.”
Bells ring in my ears. Wait, no. That’s not in my head. Actual bells chime throughout the air from somewhere near the docks.
Still, his words are no less shocking.
Fae are not immortal, but they live lives that far outlast humans, sometimes even quadrupling the age of the oldest human I knew in Verdanthia. And Elder Arkose lived to the impressive age of 102.
I’d been too preoccupied with curing Darius and saving Verdanthia from the Fae’s wrath to wonder at the Fae’s ages, but I’d assumed they were older than they looked. All humans know Fae do not age the way we do.
Never in my wildest dreams did I actually think they would be so young.
Or so close to my age that it makes them seem more…well…human.
Before I can process that revelation, Darius turns in his saddle with a grin. “And how old are you, sweet Elara?”
I wait for a shadow to shove him off his horse, but nothing happens.
“Twenty-four,” I answer.
“Well past the age of maturity for Fae,” he muses. “I wonder, why have you not sworn vows with another?”
Lev’s name cuts through my mind like a wound reopening.
His smile. His betrayal. An acute feeling of loss twists my heart when I think of the years we spent together and all that’s changed between us.
Now, a shadow does strike Darius upside the head. It fades from view as quickly as it appeared.
“Hey!” he protests. “That wasn’t even inappropriate!”
Draven sneers. “I know you’ve been unconscious for weeks, idiot, but that doesn’t give you leave to ask a female questions about her marriage prospects.”
I blink at the surly Fae’s defensive tone.
Darius rubs the back of his head with a wince. “Damn, did I overstep? I apologize. I simply wanted to know if our brother has a ch—”
Another shadow strikes his shoulder.
“Ah!”
“By the Mother, Darius,” Jaxon sighs. “Shut up!”
Darius presses his lips together.
I don’t say a word.
We reach the stables. Draven dismounts, his demeanor all business.
Jaxon, Darius, and I wait on our horses. The males resume their never-ending chatter while I take in the sights around me.
The stable sits on the edge of the city, and the paths that lead toward the harbor are adorned with bright banners hanging from unlit bronze lamps lining the streets.
Storefronts gleam with freshly painted doors and window shutters.
The smell of sea air mixes with the aromas of jasmine and savory foods.
Men and women wear tunics and gowns embroidered with gold and silver thread. Their hair is clean and combed. While many speak the common tongue, unfamiliar accents and foreign words reach my ears as well.
Port City is a marvel. A gem. And it’s been so close all this time…
“Yo, fools!” Draven barks, stepping out of the stables. “Get your bags. We will go on foot from here.”
Two boys rush out of the door behind the Fae, barely older than eight, eyes wide as they take the reins of our horses.
Jaxon and Darius grumble at Draven’s insult but dismount without pause.
Darius’s hand lingers a heartbeat too long on my waist when he helps me down. I pretend not to notice.
The two boys wait for the Fae to finish removing their saddlebags from their stallions before leading the magnificent beasts inside. My fingers fumble as I unhook my satchel and the bag Juniper sent with Anton. I hike both over my shoulder, gripping the straps tightly.
The boys return to take Draven’s reins and mine. The four of us watch the horses disappear into the stables. A somber air floats between the Fae. It’s almost as if they’ll miss the creatures.
“So…” I clear my throat. “What now?”
Darius shakes his head, freeing himself from the melancholy tugging on each of the male’s glamoured faces. “I think it’s time for a—”
“Don’t you dare say drink,” Draven growls.
“Don’t be such a grumble-root,” Darius counters. “It’ll be hours before Silas and Rian expect us at the docks. We should have some fun!”
“Fun is not the mission.”
“It’s my mission.”
“Mine too,” Jaxon says. “These past few weeks have sucked, and I’m going to enjoy every last minute in Port City before we’re stuck on a blasted ship.”
My head snaps up at the confirmation that we are, indeed, leaving Astloria. “Ship?”
The three Fae exchange glances.
Jaxon mumbles, “Shit.”
“What ship?” I demand when none of them meet my probing stare. “Where are we going?”
Where are you taking me?
“We cannot say,” Draven says.
He shoots a pointed look to the man leaning against the stable wall, chewing on a piece of straw. Watching us.
I pinch my lips together.
“I’ll find Rian and Silas.” Draven taps his boot against the paved path, looking between Darius and Jaxon before his gaze lands on me. “Will you be all right?”
His concern is touching. Until I remember he only cares about my well-being because of what I can do for his brother.
“I’ll be fine.”
He nods, then glares at Darius. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Darius clicks his heels together and straightens, pounding a fist against his chest in a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”
Jaxon snorts.
Draven rolls his eyes and strides away, disappearing down the street that curves toward the harbor.
As soon as he’s gone, Darius claps his hands together. “Well, now that our nursemaid has left us, how about some fun?”
That one sentence tells me everything I need to know about their brotherly relationship.
My thoughts drift to Ferria.
Would we have a similar dynamic if I were more than a few minutes older? Or did our upbringing rob us of the lighthearted demeanor Darius carries with ease?
“Yes, let’s.” Jaxon extends an arm to me. “Shall we, my lady?”
I hesitate, but considering he’s the least unsettling Fae, I take his offered elbow.
The city stretches out before us—bright and strange, full of noise and color. The air hums with possibility and danger, the two blending until I can’t tell them apart.
As we step into the crowd, I glance toward the harbor.
Somewhere near those ships, Rian waits.
And whatever lies ahead, whatever voyage the Fae plan to take me on, feels vast and terrible.
Like the start of something unstoppable—something that further unravels my understanding of the world I live in.
Something I’m not confident I’m ready to face.