Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
He had locked her in again.
Araya twisted the door handle, more out of irritation than hope, rattling it for good measure. But the door stayed firmly closed.
She sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She must have slept for hours, not even bothering to strip off her filthy clothes before collapsing onto the bed. But her limbs still felt leaden, every movement a painful reminder of her failed escape.
Her stomach twisted with a low, hollow growl, reminding her that she’d missed lunch. Without being able to leave her room, she’d just have to wait until someone brought her a tray. But at least her prison cell came with an attached bathing chamber.
Araya turned the taps, watching the water rise before sketching inar in the soap residue left on the edge of the tub. She laid her hand over it, breathing a sigh of relief as her power answered her command, aether blooming under her fingertips and sending curling tendrils of steam into the air.
She stripped off her dirty clothes, grimacing as she peeled them away from her skin. The once fine fabric was stiff with sweat and mud and gods only knew what else she’d dragged herself through last night. She let them fall in a heap, sinking into the gently steaming water with a deep sigh.
For a long time, she just sat there, letting the steam fog the room and the hot water loosen muscles she hadn’t even known could get tight.
She closed her eyes, tipping her head back and letting her mind drift.
She didn’t want to think right now. Not about Loren, or Jaxon.
Or how she was trapped here with no way out.
She stayed like that until something nudged at the edge of her awareness.
Araya cracked one eye open.
One of Loren’s shadows perched on the rim of the tub, its wisp-like tail shifting in slow, serpentine undulations as it watched her.
“You,” she hissed. “What are you doing here? Did he leave you?”
It just flickered, its form shifting and changing as it considered her.
“I know you can talk,” Araya snapped. “I’ve heard you talk to Loren—I spoke to you at the Shadowed Veil. So what do you want?”
It cocked its head—or what she assumed was its head—rearing up slightly. But it still didn’t speak.
Araya scowled, scrubbing the bar of soap over her skin. Dozens of tiny scrapes she hadn’t noticed stung under the thick lather, an unwelcome reminder of that terrible, frantic flight through the woods.
Loren and his shadows had saved her life.
But he was still a bastard for locking her in this room again.
Araya reached for the pitcher beside the tub, pouring the cooling water over her hair until she finally worked the last of the sticks and snarls from it.
Finally feeling more like herself, she leaned back, letting her eyes drift closed again—until a sudden, uncomfortable thought jolted her fully awake.
Loren’s shadows moved with him. He could speak to them—command them.
Could he see through them?
She crossed her arms across her chest, glaring at the little shadow. “Turn around.”
It ignored her.
Her cheeks burning, Araya snatched the towel from the stool, splashing water out of the tub in her haste. She dried herself in quick, brisk strokes before shoving her arms into her robe and knotting it tightly around her waist.
It followed her into the main room, its cool tendrils coiling around her bare ankles, clinging for a moment too long before releasing her with a slow, reluctant slide.
It pooled in front of the fire, its form expanding as it stretched out, staking its claim on the warm stone.
It almost reminded her of Loren, with its sinuous grace and the dangerous power humming underneath its silence.
Idiot, she scolded herself, yanking a brush through her hair. He locked you in this room.
She stormed over to the desk, yanking open the drawer and staring down at the list she’d started yesterday. She’d been focused on escaping and getting back to Jaxon—but now she had other challenges she couldn’t ignore.
Mainly, this bond with Loren. He was right about one thing—it was a problem. If everything he’d said about it was true, even Jaxon wouldn’t be able to stop the Arcanum from using her as a tool to hurt Loren. Honestly, after the way they’d left things, she wasn’t sure Jaxon would even try.
Araya pressed her palm against her sternum, feeling the faint pull of the bond under her skin. There was no way she could hide it from Jaxon—not now. It would have to be dealt with before she went back.
But first, she had to find a way to convince the fae to let her go.
Araya sank into the chair, dragging a fresh sheet of parchment toward her and picking up the quill. There had to be something she could trade for her freedom. Everyone wanted something—and the fae were no exception. She just had to figure out what it was.
Hours later, the only conclusion Araya had arrived at was that she didn’t know nearly enough.
She stared down at the parchment, the ink smudged in places where she’d tapped the quill against the page in thought.
She’d written down everything she could remember—everything that had happened at the Shadowed Veil, everything she had overheard, everything she had felt in the moments before the darkness had relented.
But she’d found few answers, and far too many questions.
Her frustration bled into the sharp angles of her handwriting, her knuckles whitening around the quill as she glared at where she’d scrawled MATES? across the parchment in uneven strokes, the question mark heavy with disbelief.
It made no sense—but somehow, she believed it. There was no other explanation for why the amulet she’d made to test their theory had only started to work when Loren’s blood mixed with hers. It didn’t follow any rules of magic she knew, but there was no denying the reality of it.
The shadow flicked its tail, curling loosely around her wrist. Araya shook it off, gently disentangling the amorphous creature from its perch and setting it back on the desk. It withdrew its tendrils, managing to look impressively affronted expression for a creature without form or face.
She smiled at it, charmed despite herself.
It was hard to believe that this was the same magic that had been willing to kill them all just to destroy Loren.
This thing might be a spy, but it was almost…
cute. She flicked a scrap piece of parchment off the desk, watching the little shadow race after it.
It pounced, its wisp-like tail curling and twitching—for all the world like a strange, ephemeral cat.
But the force that had spoken to her on the Shadowed Sea had been…terrifying. She had no doubt that Jaxon had known or at least suspected the fae were sheltering behind it. That’s why the New Dominion was so interested in finding a way to dispel it—so they could crush the last of the resistance.
Resistance—the very idea still felt alien to her. But that’s what it was, wasn’t it? How many fae had Serafina smuggled out of the New Dominion while Araya remained blissfully unaware? All this time, her best friend had been working with the fae, and she’d had no idea.
Araya sucked in a deep breath, glancing back down at her notes without seeing them. Maybe the Shadowed Veil did protect the fae from the New Dominion, but it had also trapped them under a blanket of near-constant darkness. Starving them and creating monsters like the zal’vorr.
Everything she knew and every theory she’d come up with suggested that Loren should have been able to call it to heel now that he was free…but he hadn’t. Because he couldn’t—not unless she accepted this bond with him.
The thought left her cold. Jaxon had been obsessed with her before, but if he learned she shared a magical, fated connection with the lost fae prince? Gods, she wasn’t certain if he’d be jealous or ecstatic. But one thing was certain—any freedom she’d enjoyed would be gone in a heartbeat.
And the fae were no better. Loren might spin a pretty story about how he didn’t expect her to complete any sort of magical bond with him, but he’d locked her in here again without even making sure someone came to bring her a tray of food.
And Araya had no illusions about Eloria’s intentions.
The fae regent didn’t seem like the kind of leader who would allow the key to her people’s survival to just…
refuse. Not without some sort of alternative.
Araya straightened, sucking in a sharp breath. That was what she could offer them. An alternative way to control of the shadows. She’d done it for Jaxon on a small scale—with Loren’s blood and her own, she had no doubt she could do it for Eloria.
If she could give them that…they would have to accept her terms. Control of the shadows in exchange for her freedom.
Of course, that still left the problem of this mate bond—Araya had no desire to be a high-value game piece in this conflict.
But if the years she’d spent working with Jaxon had taught her anything, it was that any curse could be broken.
A sharp knock jolted her from her thoughts, sending the little shadow scurrying.
It raced across the room, scrambling up her side to crouch on her shoulders.
Araya caught her breath, pressing a hand to her chest as that strange thread hooked under her ribcage snapped tight, leaving her with no question as to who stood on outside her room.
Araya swept her notes into the drawer, slamming it closed. She capped the inkwell, glaring at the door as he knocked again, harder this time.
“You’ll have to find my jailor if you want to come in,” she called out. “You see, I don’t have a key. Or any say over where I go or who I see—”
A key scraped in the lock, magic flaring along the doorframe as it swung open.
“You tried to run,” Loren growled. “What did you expect—” His gaze snagged on the shadow perched at her shoulder. “What is that?”
“Your spy?” Araya glanced down at where the little shadow had wrapped itself around her shoulders like a scarf. “Do you really think I’m going believe you didn’t leave it here?”
“I didn’t,” Loren snapped. But even as the words left his mouth, the shadows behind him hissed, their sharp, sibilant whispers prickling across the back of her neck.
They were speaking to him—just like the Shadowed Veil had spoken to them.
She couldn’t understand this time, the flowing cadence of Valenya lost to her, but Loren’s face darkened.
Whatever they were saying to him, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“It’s not a spy.” Loren’s jaw worked, his green eyes narrowing as he stared at his wayward shadow. “It decided to stay on its own. To protect you.” He winced as the shadowed hissed again, snapping at his heels. “Because I didn’t.”
“They really don’t listen to you at all, do they?” Araya tilted her head, considering the mass of darkness.
She hadn’t meant it to be cruel — but Loren flinched like she’d driven a blade between his ribs, his mouth flattening to a thin, hard line.
“Not where you’re concerned,” he said. “Now get dressed. You have to work on getting control of your power—”
“No.” Araya crossed her arms. “Did you know I’ve been locked in here all day with no food or explanation?”
A muscle in his cheek ticked, guilt flashing across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t tell Veria you were in here. I didn’t think—”
“You’re right,” Araya cut in. “You didn’t think. You just locked me in here and forgot about me.” Power heated her blood, pressing against her skin, but she shoved it back down. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? Now get out.”
“I can’t. You nearly brought the crypt down on top of us,” Loren said tightly. “If you had any more power right now, you’d be doing the same thing here. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to learn control, Araya. For your own safety.”
“That’s not your decision,” Araya shot back. “I’m not your subject or your student. My training is none of your business.”
Loren’s eyes flashed. “You’re my mate.”
“I’m your prisoner.” Araya let out a bitter laugh. “Would you really have locked your mate up and forgotten to feed her? What’s next? You coerce me into completing this bond and take my power for your own? Because that sounds very familiar—”
“I would never.” Loren took a step forward, his shadows bleeding into the room and flickering up the walls in restless, lashing shapes. “I don’t care what Eloria wants or says. I swear it to you here and now, I will never coerce or force you to bond with me.”
“I still don’t want to train with you.” Araya set her jaw, trying to ignore the way her magic thrummed under her skin, pulling toward him. That was the bond—heat pricking at her fingertips even as she curled her hands into fists, trying to smother it.
But he saw anyway.
“And what are you going to do the next time you lose control?” he demanded, taking another step. “What if I’m not there to help you?”
“I can monitor my own power levels.” Araya fell back a step, refusing to acknowledge how her power sang as Loren invaded her space.“I can burn it off before it gets to be too much—”
“It’s already too much,” Loren said, his voice as rough as hers. “You have no idea how powerful you are, Araya. What you’re proposing—it could kill you or someone else. I know that’s not what you want, ael’sura.”
Araya closed her eyes, begging her power to settle in her blood. It bucked against her control aching to reach for the infuriating male who had dared lay claim to her—but finally ebbed. For now.
He was right. She had to survive here long enough to make it back to the New Dominion. And she didn’t want to hurt anyone. But if she was going to give in she would claw something out of it for herself.
“If I agree to this I want something in return,” she said.
Loren’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Access to your archives,” she said. “Everything you have on mate bonds, the shadows and their relation to the royal bloodline—and all the records of your father’s death.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do with that information?”
“Research.” Araya lifted her chin, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “If you expect me to stay here and confront this bond—I want to understand it. You and Eloria have both manipulated me, misrepresented it. Books won’t do that to me.”
Across from her, Loren looked…stricken. The strange connection between them stretched tight, heavy with something she didn’t understand. Even his shadows fell still, curling tight around his boots.
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said finally, his voice low and rough. “Do you know where the library is?”
Araya hesitated. Thorne had breezed by the door during his tour, waving it off as the royal family’s personal collection. She’d been curious, of course, but she knew where she wasn’t welcome.
“I can find it,” she said.
“Tomorrow then.” Loren inclined his head, stiff and formal. “Sleep well, ael’sura.”