Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Araya bent over the folder Eryn had given her, skimming through the mess of personal accounts, official records, and hand-annotated maps for what felt like the hundredth time.
She’d gone over every document a dozen times, immersing herself in Eloria’s graceful, looping script.
The princess had taken notes on everything from the phases of the moon, to the weather, to what the commander of the mission had eaten for breakfast that morning.
But none of it had made a difference. Every attempt to retrieve King Corwin’s remains had ended the same way—in failure.
Araya sat back, staring down at the words she already knew by heart.
Seventh and final sanctioned retrieval effort. All members of the expedition lost. Royal decree issued: cease further attempts.
Seven attempts. Ninety-three fae lost to the Veil, their bodies swallowed by the same shadows that had taken their king. Dozens more dead in the aftermath—lost to injuries of the mind that no Healer could treat. And the ones that survived…
They were never the same.
Some forgot their names. Some screamed at nothing. A few never spoke again.
So Eloria had abandoned Ithralis. Abandoned the temple and her father’s remains to the ever-growing darkness and officially moved her court to Lumaria.
Araya tapped her quill against the edge of the final casualty list. How could she possibly succeed where so many fae—fae who hadn’t spent the better part of their lives with their power bound—had failed?
The only thing she had that they didn’t…was Loren.
And she wasn’t sure she even had him.
Araya scowled, her gaze drifting to his empty chair. He’d been nothing more than a flicker at the edge of her vision since Thorne brought her back to Ithralis. He was here physically, or the bond would have let her know—but he wasn’t here with her.
He hand tightened on the quill until it snapped between her fingers. Araya hissed a curse, tossing it aside and hastily blotting at the ink spreading across her notes with her sleeve.
Enough. She wasn’t going to sit here nursing her hurt feelings while Loren sulked and blamed her for things she couldn’t change. She was doing this for him—for his people—and he had the nerve to act like she was a traitor.
She shoved back from the table, her skirt catching at her legs as she stormed through the library doors. She didn’t need anyone to tell her where he was—not when the pull in her chest was like a compass, dragging her through the twisting halls and finally through the door and into the courtyard.
Loren stood at the center, his shirt tossed aside despite the chill. A practice blade flashed in his hand, shadows twisting and lashing around him as he cut through one brutal sequence after another.
Araya stopped short, the cold bite of sea air nipping at her suddenly burning cheeks. This close, she couldn’t help but see the scars that marred his pale skin—a permanent reminder of the role she’d played in Jaxon’s treatment of him.
“What are you doing out here, Araya?” His blade lowered, but the ice in his voice cut just as deeply. “Aren’t you busy plotting your triumphant return to the man who drained you and left you for dead because you forgot your place.”
“Is that really what you think of me?” Magic flared in her blood, rising to answer her anger, but Araya shoved it back down. That was the last thing she needed right now. “That I’m crawling back to him because I want to go back to being his obedient little bond?”
Loren clenched his jaw, his green eyes burning into her. “I thing you’re still suppressing your magic,” he retorted, pacing a slow circle around her. “Have you even bothered working with Thorne on it?”
“Excuse me?” Araya stiffened, turning to keep him her line of sight. “You don’t know anything about what I’ve been doing.”
“You think because you don’t see me that I’m not watching?” Loren snorted, shaking his head. “I can’t stay away from you, Araya. No matter how badly I want to. Here—”
Araya jumped, barely avoiding getting hit in the shins as his practice sword clattered to the broken cobblestones at her feet.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” she demanded.
“It’s a sword.” Loren watched her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Pick it up.”
“Why?” Araya hesitated, eyeing the blade at her feet. It was longer than her arm, the dulled edge still sharp enough to do damage. “Are you going to make me hold it to my own throat?”
Loren winced at that. “No compulsion,” he said. “I swear.”
Araya bent down, grunting as she hefted the sword. It was heavier than it looked, her arms and shoulders protesting immediately.
“Get it out of the dirt,” Loren ordered. “It’s a sword, not a plow—no, higher than that.”
Araya clenched her jaw, her arms trembling as she forced the blade up. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to prove here—”
“Keep your stance open,” Loren interrupted her.
He leaned across her, the warmth of his bare skin heating hers even through her dress.
“Don’t lock your elbows. You’ll tire too quickly.
Good.” He circled her again, watching with eagle-eyed intensity.
“Why are you holding it like it’s as heavy as you are? "
“It is heavy!” Araya grimaced, the leather-wrapped hilt biting into her palms as she shifted her stance to try and take some of the weight off her wrists. “I’ve never even held a sword before.”
Loren stopped pacing, staring at her incredulously. “Why not?”
“No one over half-fae is permitted to carry a weapon.” Araya dropped the sword to the ground again, scowling at him as she rolled out her wrists. “You can carry a knife—as long as the blade is shorter than your palm. Anything longer and it’s an act of rebellion.”
Loren stared at her, his expression darkening.
“Every time you tell me something new about what they did to you…” he shook his head, the shadows shuddering at his feet.
“I don’t need your pity,” Araya snapped.
“It’s not pity.” Loren took a step closer, his voice sharpening. “It’s outrage. And you should be just as angry as I am. Now, pick up the sword.”
“No.” Araya crossed her arms, muscles she hadn’t even realized she had aching. “I’m not playing these games with you. I only came out here to tell you I expect you to help me save your people. Not waste all your time brooding.”
“How about a deal?” Loren smiled at her, the gleam in his eyes putting her immediately on edge. “If you manage to land a hit on me, I’ll help you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Araya protested. “You’re a trained warrior. I’m just—” she bit the word off. She didn’t know what she was. She wasn’t fae. But she wasn’t human either. She used to call herself a mage—but did she even have that anymore?
Loren laughed at her, resuming his slow circle around her.
“Then I’ll use the sword,” he said, scooping it up easily.
“You use whatever magic you want. Aether, runes… you’re even welcome to the shadows, if you can convince them to listen to you.
” His lips curved, that dangerous smile deepening. “Whatever you need to stop me.”
“Stop you—?”
Araya yelped as Loren lunged, tripping over her own feet in her haste to retreat. She flung up her hands, aether sparking between her palms. The air between them crackled with magic, the backlash searing her palms as Loren crashed into her flickering shield hard enough to rattle her teeth.
“What in the name of all the Gods are you doing?” Araya demanded. Her hands trembled, the barrier between them sputtering weakly. “Why are you attacking me?”
Loren only grinned at her, baring his teeth to show his sharp canines. “Every time you’ve used fae magic, your life has been in danger.” He stepped back, studying her barrier. “So I’m endangering you. I suggest you find a way to fight back.”
Araya stared at him, dumbfounded. Was he serious? She couldn’t fight him—
Loren lunged again.
Araya screamed as he slammed into her shield with sword and magic this time. Aether roared through her, leeching her dry with every heartbeat as she struggled to hold him back.
“You’re thinking like a human.” Loren stepped back, flicking his wrist. Power slammed against her shield, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Shadows raced through the shards, reaching for her.
“I’m a quarter human!” Araya gave ground, her heart pounding.
“And that quarter is holding you back,” he growled, stalking after her. “They taught you to think and act like a human—but you’re not. And there is nothing wrong with that.”
Araya bristled, his words sliding under her skin like a knife. “I’m not ashamed of my fae heritage.”
“Heritage?” Loren snorted, his voice turning cold. “You are three-quarters fae, Araya. Start fighting like one.”
This time, it wasn’t his sword he raised against her, but his shadows. They surged forward like a dark tide, rising above her like a wave about to crash.
Araya flinched back, throwing up her hands. Light burst between her palms, flickering weakly as the shadows slammed against it, seeping through the cracks like smoke through broken stone.
“You can do better,” Loren murmured, his form turned misty and indistinct behind the veil of darkness. “I know you can.”
One of his shadows reached her, its cool touch sending goosebumps racing over her skin. Araya choked on a sob, closing her eyes as another wrapped stroked her cheek, winding around her throat.
But she wasn’t afraid.
Araya sucked in a sharp breath, her heart racing.
She’d seen Loren wield them to hurt—to kill.
But she’d never feared them. Not once. Because somehow she knew—as surely as she knew that the sun rose in the east and set in the west—that his shadows would never hurt her.
And neither would Loren, no matter what he believed about himself.
She let go of her shield, letting it shatter into a thousand shards. Loren swore sharply as his shadows rushed forward, surging over her in a cold wave. She could feel him struggling for control of them—but she didn’t hesitate, storming through them to plant both palms on his chest and shove.
“Stop pushing me,” she snarled, baring her teeth at him. Power surged under her skin, raging through her veins. It leapt to her command before she even called for it, heat coiling down her spine and sparks crackling across her tongue.
Loren’s eyes darkened, the shadows stilling at his feet.
“Finally,” he murmured. “There you are.”
“There who is?” Araya demanded.
His smile widened. “We’re about to find out.”
The shadows rushed over her again. Her power answered as they skimmed over her skin like water over stone, crackling where it collided with their cool touch. It lit her up from the inside out, filling her with light to his darkness—
“No—” she stumbled back a step, but there was no running from this power. It filled her like wildfire, burning her alive from the inside out. “I can’t—”
“You can.” Loren caught her hands, not letting her retreat. “You can, ael’sura. This is your power—”
“I’m going to hurt someone.” She gasped, every breath coming fast and shallow. The only reason no one got hurt last time was because of Loren. And she’d still hurt him—
“You won’t hurt me.” Loren squeezed her hands, closing the distance between them until his forehead pressed against hers, her panicked breaths mingling between them. “Goddess, do you know what you look like right now?”
Araya’s breath hitched, a wild, bitter laugh sticking in her throat. “Like some traitor halfblood you got shackled to by some cruel twist of fate? An inconvenient weakness you’d be better off rid of—”
“No.” Loren let out a sharp breath, his eyes flashing as he stared down at her.
He huffed out a rough laugh, his hands tightening on hers, like he needed her to anchor him.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Araya.
What you survived—” his voice broke, his face shining in the light that must be pouring from her.
“You are light and power and fury. You are fucking breathtaking.”
Araya’s mouth dropped open, words fleeing her. But Loren didn’t wait for her to find them. He caught her face between his hands, crushing his mouth to hers.