Chapter 20
Rian’s anger hits me before I even turn—thick, fierce, and palpable.
The Shadow Prince’s nostrils flare. Violence swirls through the air like the tornado from the air wielder during today’s contest. His dark eyes pierce the Mountain Fae’s with a glare that would be accompanied by suffocating shadows if not for the manacles clasped to his wrists.
I should be afraid. Or at the very least wary. That would be the logical response to the infuriated, powerful male standing in front of me.
Instead, the vise I hadn’t realized was crushing my lungs loosens. I draw my first full breath of the day—the first since I stepped into the hall and found the Shadow Fae gone.
Then my gaze dips, and I frown.
Before Anders can respond to Rian’s rude greeting, I blurt, “What are you wearing?”
A simple black toga, plain and sharp, lays against Rian’s skin. The unique tunic is tucked into the waist of charcoal-gray trousers that disappear into tall black boots that end just below his knees. The attire is a stark contrast to the colorful hues everyone else here drapes over themselves.
Rian’s eyes slide to mine. “I didn’t realize my wardrobe was your concern, Sunshine.”
I scowl. “It’s not.”
Except…maybe it is.
Because I can’t seem to look away.
My stomach flutters.
Traitor.
“Good afternoon, my lord.” Anders shifts, angling his body subtly in front of mine. “It is an honor to see you again.”
The Shadow Prince takes in the protective move, his mouth curling with a sneer. “What are you doing, Anders?”
My brows lift.
Do they know each other?
“As Lady Helen requested,” Anders replies evenly, “I am aiding Elara with the healing arts.”
“She doesn’t need your help.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Undoubtedly.”
Anders holds Rian’s malevolent stare. “Forgive me. I assumed since you were preoccupied with Lady Iris, I would ensure Elara’s time here was not spent idly.”
My magic hisses like a feral beast. I press my lips together and clench my fists.
You don’t care what he does, Elara.
That’s a lie.
Gods… Why is that a lie?
Rian’s dark eyes harden. Pressure builds against my skin, a sensation undeniably similar to how it feels when his shadows roil and writhe off his body.
“Come here, Elara.”
I flinch as Rian extends a hand and crooks his fingers at me, beckoning as though I’m a dog.
Red clouds my vision. “No.”
“No?” He tilts his head.
A section of black hair falls over his eye.
I have the sudden, violent urge to rip it free from his scalp. “Why are you here? Don’t you have more to tour?”
Rian’s mouth curves. “Keeping tabs on me, Sunshine?”
“In your dreams.”
The air draws tight between us.
His smirk stretches into something lazier. More dangerous.
“Oh, Elara,” he murmurs. “You have no idea.”
My pulse stutters. I tighten my grip on the book, clutching it to my chest like a shield.
“Come,” he prompts again.
This time, softness creeps into his expression, making it seem less like an order and more like a request.
“You aren’t required to go anywhere,” Anders cuts in, apparently willing to absorb the Shadow Prince’s wrath for my sake.
But why?
I barely know Anders.
Is he truly that honorable? Or does he have another motive?
A throat clears sharply, slicing through the tension before it can snap.
A young woman in a pale-blue toga and gold sandals stands at the end of the aisle, shifting nervously as her gaze flicks between Anders, Rian, and me.
“Excuse me, Lord Anders.” Her voice is soft, hesitant. “Mayor Augustus is requesting your assistance.”
“Assistance?” Anders straightens. “With what?”
“One of the morning’s contestants, sir.” Her eyes dart to Rian, then to me, before snapping back to the palace healer. “Their injuries are more…debilitating than anticipated.”
Anders mutters a curse and turns to me. “My apologies, Elara. I must—”
“It’s fine,” I say quickly.
A sharp crease forms between his brows.
I clear my throat. “Thank you for the book. I look forward to discussing it with you later.”
The tension around his eyes eases. “As do I. Good day, Elara.”
He bends at the waist in a subtle bow, his gaze hardening when it flicks to Rian, before he straightens and follows the young woman down the aisle.
I wait until their footsteps fade before whirling on Rian. “What in the hells do you think— Hey! Let me go!”
Rian’s strong fingers wrap around my bicep, fingertips nearly touching his thumb. He yanks me in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing? Release me at once!” I attempt to dig my heels into the carpet, but the flimsy sandals Thea slid onto my feet this morning offer no traction.
My skin slips against the slick soles.
“Don’t you sound formal.” Rian huffs, dragging me along without slowing, uncaring of the wide-eyed stares we’re drawing. “Has your time in that prick’s company already erased all of your Verdanthian charm?”
The suspicion that he and Anders know each other grows, but it’s overshadowed by wondering what in the hells that remark meant.
I stumble over a raised edge of carpet. Rian’s grip tightens just enough to keep me upright. My hair falls into my eyes. I shove it back and lift my chin. Tall glass doors stand ahead.
Rian drags me onto a gleaming white balcony, releasing me the moment my sandals meet the pristine stone. My pulse spikes but steadies when I realize we’re only one story up.
Rian shuts the doors behind us with a click.
A gust of sea air sweeps across the balcony, tangling the flowing skirts around my legs.
I edge away from the railing. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t just drag me around like that.”
Sunlight glints off Rian’s black hair, catching faint blue highlights threaded through the ink-dark strands. “Why not?”
I scowl.
He’s insufferable.
“What glamour are you wearing?” I ask. “What do people see when they look at you and the others?”
If the question surprises him, he doesn’t show it. “We appear part Fae. Brown hair and muddy eyes. Like most citizens of Virendrell.”
I can picture the others with brown hair easily enough.
But Rian?
My mind refuses to conjure him with anything but those midnight-black strands.
“Why not use your glamour on me?” I cross my arms. “If you haven’t noticed, being blonde makes me stand out.”
“It’s not your hair,” he mutters.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He ignores the question. “Maintaining the glamours is difficult enough for the four of us. Especially given my current condition.”
He lifts his wrists. Sunlight strikes the manacles.
My lips part. “Oh…”
I hadn’t considered that.
The fact Rian can still hold the illusion at all while his magic is suppressed is…impressive.
And terrifying.
“Yes. Oh.” He lowers his arms and fixes me with a dark stare. “Now, care to explain what you and Anders were doing together?”
“Exactly what he said. He gave me a book about the basics of healing.”
I lift the tome up as proof.
The muscle in Rian’s jaw tics. “And have you kept your word? About not discussing your magic?”
“Yes, sir.” I roll my eyes. “Relax.”
A low growl ripples through his chest. “I could get used to that.”
“Used to what?”
Heat simmers in his gaze. “Hearing you call me sir.”
My jaw drops. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
My heart beats as fast as a racing stallion. “Flirting with me.”
“Why?” He crosses his arms, muscles bulging. “You liked it in Verdanthia.”
I sputter.
Did he flirt with me in Verdanthia?
At the festival, sure. But before? I don’t remember. He was kind. And helpful. Was that flirting?
It doesn’t matter. That was then. This is now.
“That was different,” I say at last, and instantly regret it when his eyes spark with genuine amusement.
“Was it?” he presses. “Why?”
I want to scream.
“You know why.” I gesture pointedly to the space above his head, where a crown would sit if we were in his uncle’s territory.
Rian’s expression dims, and his voice loses its teasing edge. “I see. You object to my title.”
I scowl. “It’s more than a title.”
It’s a reputation soaked in brutality and disregard for human lives… It’s the fact he’s evil.
Surely, Rian knows that.
Yet the way he tilts his head to the side and gives one long, slow blink makes me wonder…
Rian coughs once then lifts his head, and any hint of confusion vanishes.
He rolls his shoulders back. “Given your past, I thought you’d be more open to the idea that you might not know the truth about everything.”
My eyes widen. He sounds upset.
Why is he upset?
Why do I care?
I drop my gaze and take a deep breath.
A pale-purple flower lies on the stone beside a potted plant. I bend to pick it up, keeping my attention on the soft petals and not the confusing male before me.
“What were you really doing this morning?” I ask, finding it hard to believe he spent hours traipsing around Virendrell without a purpose.
The sound of birdsong fills the space between us, coming from the garden on the floor below.
For a moment, I think Rian won’t answer.
Then—
“In addition to identifying important locations in the city, I visited the aviary to send an eagle to Jaxon, telling of the Virendrellian representative’s impending arrival.”
I look up. “Virendrell uses Aella eagles?”
He dips his chin. “How else do you think they communicate with those outside their walls?”
Good point.
I drop my gaze back to the flower. I twirl the short stem between my thumb and forefinger.
“Why didn’t Jaxon want to come to Virendrell?”
“That is not my story to share.”
Rian steps closer and plucks the flower from my hand. Before I can object, he slides it into my hair.
My breath catches.
His fingers linger.
Our eyes lock, and I drink in the flecks of silver that peek through the darkness. A color, I realize, I only ever see when he’s looking at me.
“Come.” He steps back, pulling on the the fragile thread connecting us.
I swallow. “Where?”
“The training yard.” A faint smirk curves his lips. “Draven says you’re overdue for sparring practice.”
I groan. “Now?”
“Yes.” He chuckles. “And I wouldn’t keep the captain of my guard waiting if I were you.”
He strides through the tall glass doors, but I am frozen in place.
His laughter wraps around my heart, stirring the magic inside me until it hums in my chest.
Sleep must’ve helped strengthen my power.
Good.
I need the healing magic to replenish itself. I’ll need all of its strength if I ever want to heal Darius and leave Rian behind.
Pain spears through my chest.
I clutch at the ache, only to realize the agony isn’t physical.
It’s my magic.
My power twists inside me, sharp and alive. It hisses, a whisper in the back of my mind that isn’t entirely my own.
A haunting realization dawns, chilling me to the bone.
My power doesn’t want me to leave Rian.
The ache in my chest morphs into satisfaction.
Oh, Gods…
I stare after Rian, horror blooming slow and deep.
If my power has already allied itself to the Shadow Prince…
What chance do I have of ever escaping him?