Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
Loren paced the entry hall, the shadows twisting restlessly around his feet. He’d only meant to see her—to offer an apology and appease the ache that plagued him. None of his plans had included inviting her to Lumaria. But the words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could bite them back.
She deserved better than a broken fae prince who couldn’t control his own power, let alone lead a kingdom on the edge of collapse. But for some reason, the Goddess had seen fit to tether her fate to his, tying her to a male who flinched at every flicker of darkness in his own mind.
It would have been laughable if it weren’t so utterly terrifying.
The little shadow that had attached itself to her streaked into the hall, circling him once before vanishing into the gloom.
She must be close, if it was here. It had abandoned him the instant they returned to Ithralis, racing to her side like a loyal hound.
He hadn’t been surprised, after it had abandoned him to stay with her the first time, but he didn’t understand it.
They’d never acted like this with his mother.
But Araya—even the Shadowed Veil had paused when she spoke.
“Loren?”
Loren straightened, Araya’s voice snapping him from his spiraling thoughts. She hovered at the base of the stairs, her bright silver eyes guarded. But she was here. Willing to see—to listen.
Now he just needed to find the words to explain it all without sending her running in the opposite direction. Goddess help him.
“What?” Araya asked, glancing down at her clothes. “Is this not good?”
“No—it’s fine.” Loren cleared his throat, dragging his gaze away before she caught him staring like a boy barely come into his power. “We should get moving. I don’t want to be in the forest longer than we need to be.”
“We’re going through the forest?” Araya trailed him out the door, her voice tight. “I thought the coastal road was safer?”
“It avoids the worst of the shadows,” Loren said, leading them through the gate and skirting the edge of the forest. “But it’s longer. We have plenty of daylight left, and the zal’vorr usually prefer to hunt at night.”
“Usually?” She cast him a skeptical glance, taking a half-step closer to him as they entered the shadow of the trees.
“As long as you don’t serve yourself up as a tasty snack—” he barely managed to hold back his smile as she huffed, irritation cutting through the fear that hummed through the bond.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed feeling her emotions until they were gone, the distance between them turning everything but her strongest emotions into nothing but a faint echo.
They walked in companionable silence after that, every footfall crushing the tiny white flowers that had sprung up in the cracked stones, perfuming the air. Loren’s shadows stretched ahead of them, slipping over cracked stones and exploring the edges of the road.
“That’s the temple we took shelter in,” Araya said suddenly. She stopped, studying the thick tendrils of darkness that spilled over the smashed stone walls, crawling onto the edges of the road.
“It is.” Loren took her elbow, steering her closer to the center of the path. “That is the reason hardly anyone takes the forest road. Our scholars believe it’s the source of the Shadowed Veil.”
“Is it?” Araya asked, studying the twisted tendrils creeping over the carved archways with open curiosity.
“I haven’t looked into it.” Loren shrugged, biting back a smile at the aghast look she trained on him. “Better scholars than me have studied it, ael’sura. Eloria banned further attempts to enter the shadows here after so many people were lost trying to retrieve our father’s body.”
“But—” Araya frowned, her forehead creasing. “We entered.”
“We entered the temple,” Loren corrected. “The battlefield is completely blanketed in shadows. We might have survived sailing directly through he Shadowed Veil—something most people would call impossible—but I wouldn’t be eager to test these shadows. ”
He took her elbow, guiding her carefully around the creeping darkness where the road curved past the temple. His own shadows clung to his legs, their low, anxious murmur doing nothing to set him at ease.
“This isn’t how I like to remember it,” Loren said. “Before…I’ve only ever felt power like it in the Eldergreen at Tirnavel. The idea that both those places are lost to us now…” He sighed, not looking back as the jagged temple stones vanished behind them, swallowed once more by shadow and silence.
“Is it lost?” Araya asked after a moment. “Jaxon was stationed at Elvanfal for three years. There must be something in the forest they’re still trying to get to.”
“The fae were forced to abandon Tirnavel and the forest that surrounds it.” Loren glanced over at her, the ache in the bond mirroring his own as she watched him with sad eyes. “Whether the humans have truly taken it or not, it’s still lost to us, ael’sura.”
It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached the first rough shelters outside Lumaria, the sunlight that filtered through the thin mist almost too bright after the constant dusk that blanketed Ithralis.
“Is that it?” Araya asked.
“This is the outer city,” Loren said, trying not to look too hard as they walked through the slums. “There isn’t room for everyone inside the walls. Eloria and her advisors have worked to make as much space as they can…but this island was never meant to house so many people.”
“I’ve never seen so many fae in one place,” Araya said, her voice laced with something close to wonder.
Loren looked at it again, trying to see it through her eyes.
The outer city was abuzz with preparations for Bloomtide, even the most ragged of tents adorned with garlands of early spring flowers.
Fae of all ages stood outside, talking and laughing despite the grimness of their circumstances.
Children wove their way through the groups, racing between street performers with wide-eyed wonder.
Araya paused to watch an illusionist, her face bright with delight as a great ash tree unfurled from his hands, its bare branches blooming with radiant blossoms that spilled petals of gold and violet into the air before a pair of harts dashed through the scene, their spectral hooves leaving trails of light with every bound.
Loren watched her instead, her silver eyes reflecting the glow of magic as if she was seeing something from a dream. And maybe she was—she’d grown up with her magic restricted and stolen, twisted into a burden rather than a gift. But here she saw it as it should be—as she should be—free and alive.
Loren swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away before he lost the battle with his heart completely. But his shadows didn’t have the same restraint. They reached out, curling over her skin as if they too had given up on pretending they could keep their distance.
“This is amazing.” Araya glanced back over her shoulder at him, the soft flicker of magic playing across a radiant smile that took his breath away.
“He’s very good,” Loren agreed.
They both watched a cascade of ribbons unravel from the male’s fingers, twisting into dancers who twirled in perfect time with the music that had started to drift through the streets.
It was safer to watch the magic than her.
If she looked at him now there was no way she wouldn’t see every feeling written on his face.
The dancers spun faster, ribbons flowing like petals caught in the wind. Then, with a final flick of the illusionist’s wrist, they dissolved—vanishing into the night like whispers of a dream.
The illusionist turned—and bowed low.
Loren almost didn’t react. He had seen performers bow countless times before. But when the male rose, his eyes were bright with tears.
“Your Majesty,” the male said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Welcome home.”
Loren’s heart dropped into his stomach as whispers spread out around them, the words echoing through the crowd that had gathered to watch the show.
His return might not be a secret any more, but he hadn’t exactly walked among the people.
The news spread ahead of them like wildfire, and by the time they reached the gates throngs of people crowded the street ahead of them.
Some even lifted their children high to see, their faces bright with desperate hope.
The weight of it settled over him, as heavy as the crown he didn’t want.
“They love you,” Araya said as they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the Central Hall.
Loren grimaced, offering her his arm. “It’s just the idea of me they love.”
Araya frowned, clearly prepared to argue, but he cut her off before she could.
“I do have one thing to ask of you while we’re here,” he said. “Don’t use your true name.”
Araya flinched back from his offered arm, her expression shuttering. “Because even a child could compel me?”
Loren winced. “I deserve all your anger,” he admitted. “What I did was…harsh. But please, ael’sura. It may look like everyone loves me, but I promise you there are those here who don’t.”
He’d fall to his knees and beg if it that’s what it took to sway her. The idea of someone using her true name to hurt her because of him—he’d burn this city to the ground before he let that happen.
“Does it even matter?” Araya demanded. “Plenty of people already know my true name. What are they supposed to call me if not that?”
“They should call you by your title,” Loren said, frowning at her. “Even if they know your name, using it before you’ve freely given it to them is very impolite.”
Araya stared at him. “I’m a halfblood fae from the New Dominion,” she said. “I don’t have a title.”
“You’re the mate of the crown prince.” Loren couldn’t help but smile at the dumbfounded expression on her face. “Eloria gave you a title the moment you stepped off the boat, Lady Starwind.”
For a heartbeat, he thought she’d still argue, but then her gaze flicked past him to the crowd that filled the bustling square, the stubbornness draining from her expression.
“Very well.” She sniffed, taking his arm. “But only if you introduce me properly, Your Highness. I’ve never had a title before—I’d hate to get it wrong.”
Loren choked on a laugh. “I think you’ll manage,” he said, his heart flipping over in his chest as the hint of a smile that curled at the corner of her mouth bloomed into a grin.
He guided her up the stairs and through the tall doors, exchanging nods with the guards as they crossed into the wing Eloria had claimed for personal residences.
She’d have to find Araya a set of rooms and have them prepared too.
Maybe he should have sent word that Araya was coming with him—but he hadn’t actually believed it would happen.
Araya’s grip tightened on his arm as laughter spilled out from Eloria’s apartments. The sound of clinking glass and muffled voices bled into the corridor, warm and unguarded.
“It’s alright,” he murmured, resting his other hand over hers. “Trust me, they’ll be thrilled to see you.”
“Just because you believe that doesn’t make it true,” Araya retorted, her grip on his arm tightening. But she kept pace with him as he pushed the door open without knocking, stepping into his sister’s apartments at his side.
“You brought her.” Eloria shot to her feet, both hands flying to her mouth to muffle her delighted laugh. “You actually brought her!”
“It’s about time.” Galen stood beside his mate, a wide grin splitting his face. “Welcome, Araya. Happy Bloomtide.”
“Happy Bloomtide,” she said softly, still clinging to his arm. “Sorry to interrupt your celebration, Your Majesties.” Her gaze flitted to where Thorne sat, his expression carefully neutral. “Thorne.”
“Please.” Eloria snorted, shaking her head. “You’re as welcome as he is. Here, let’s go find you something to wear—”
The shadow surged before Loren even consciously thought to direct it, twining around Araya’s legs and rearing up with a warning hiss.
“Really?” Eloria dropped her hand, her smile flattening into a scowl. “You’ll be right here. She’s perfectly safe with me—”
“You still have to ask her,” Loren snapped. “The last time you saw her, you tricked her. You might think it was harmless, but I don’t.”
Eloria’s mouth twisted. “Goddess spare me from mated males,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. But her expression softened as she turned back to Araya. “It doesn’t have to be right now. I have plenty of dresses you can borrow. The two of you are probably starving. At least join us for dinner.”
Araya nodded slowly, the shadows dissolving around her like smoke. Eloria didn’t try to touch her this time, instead simply ushering her over to the couches, chattering the entire time.
“And here I thought you’d rather wrestle a zal’vorr than admit you cared,” Thorne drawled, lifting his glass in a lazy salute before taking a sip.
“Goddess spare us from mated males,” Galen added, mimicking his mate’s exasperated tone with a smirk. He poured another drink, pressing it into Loren’s hand. “She’s going to have you wrapped around her little finger before Bloomtide is over.”
“You’re both insufferable.” Loren snorted, tossing back half the glass in one swallow.