26. EMULATOR #3
“Moments, memories, emotions.” He stiffened, seeming to remember the company he was in, the hand that clutched onto his arm. “You call this power a curse,” he went on, directing the statement to Nivelle. “If that is indeed what it is, then I understand everything now.”
“A useful ability, despite its repercussions,” Nivelle said.
She looked from Aremis to Maeson, pausing on the proximity between the two, the unspoken thing between them.
But there was no pity in her eyes, regardless of what she saw before her, regardless of the pain in Aremis’s voice that was glaringly apparent, even though he tried to hide it.
She turned to me. “You will need his power on the battlefield.”
Aremis and I locked eyes. We already knew that much. A dampened, somber smile tilted his lips. I couldn’t share one back, though. Not while I knew what his power was doing to him on the inside.
He had described it to me once—how the voices and the visions were all-consuming.
Much too powerful for the average fae who happened to be born with the ability.
And yet, here he stood, perfectly composed—save for the sadness in his expression.
After so many years of control, he remained level-headed, unwavering in his dedication and strength in every way.
That in itself was the perfect testament to the male he was.
It was why Niall had chosen him as his second.
But my heart hurt for him and all that he’d had to endure, struggling with this so-called “curse,” while upholding and maintaining his position within Calledan’s court as Niall’s advisor.
“Can the curse be broken?” I asked Nivelle.
She thought about my question for a moment, before saying, “I’m not sure. The witch perished while attempting to separate herself from it.”
A collective sense of defeat fell over us.
Maeson covered her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said shakily, striding off toward the edge of the patio.
Aremis fought the urge to follow, opting instead to turn back to Nivelle, and stepping closer. His voice was low—steady and determined. “But there is a way to at least try?”
Nivelle tilted her head back to look up at him. “That will depend on what you are willing to sacrifice.”
He would do it—whatever it required. He didn’t need to say it out loud; I saw his resolve. As if Nivelle saw it too, and found it admirable enough, she said, “I will help you, if I can.”
Surprise flickered through me. Perhaps my previous conversation with her really had changed her mind about the fae.
Before Aremis could utter his thanks, the door at the top of the stairs opened. We turned to see Roirdan looking down at us, a grin plastered onto his scruffy face.
“Finally, I’m not the first one to arrive, for once,” he said, taking the stairs with more grace than his size should allow. The sun caught in his hair, highlighting the gold in the brown strands that fell forward to frame his face. The rest was tied back in a knot with a strap of leather.
His focus was trained on Nivelle, who seemed to shrink in size before him, even though she straightened in defiance. He sauntered by her, and she turned her head to follow his gait, slinging daggers at his back with her eyes as he took his place at the breakfast table.
Both Aremis and I noted the way the two of them acted in each other’s presence—Roirdan with a swagger to his step and a tilt to his lips, and Nivelle, with a fury of spite building behind her hard stare.
Someone else cleared their throat.
Niall.
He crossed the space and planted a kiss on my forehead, while taking note of the looks on all of our faces, and Maeson, standing by herself, facing the mountains. “What’s going on?”
“Just a friendly morning chat,” I said, trying to convince him that the tension that laced the space wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
He wasn’t buying it.
I winced. “Nivelle offered some insight into Aremis’s power. And . . . let’s just say, it’s not ideal.”
You’ve made progress with her? Niall asked into my mind.
Apparently more than I expected.
Good. He nodded.
“We can fill you in during our trip east later today,” Aremis said.
Nivelle was quick to inquire of our plans. “What’s east?”
“Answers to our questions about Niall’s power—we hope,” I said, taking my mate’s hand. “It is rumored that there is a wraith living in an ancient cave system, and—”
The witch interrupted me abruptly. “A wraith!?”
Both Roirdan and Maeson’s heads jerked in our direction at the intensity in her voice.
“Is there a problem with that?” Niall asked.
“How long has a wraith been living amongst you?” Nivelle hissed.
“No one knows,” Aremis answered. “It’s more lore than it is certain truth.”
“So you are searching for a wraith, based on lore?”
“My ancestor kept a journal,” Niall explained. “He struggled with the same power I possess, and he and his caretaker logged those struggles and the lengths they went to during their quest for answers. They mentioned journeying to a place at the eastern point of our mountain range.”
“As for the wraith being there . . . that’s speculation,” Aremis added. “But the place he described fits the legends. And if legends are right . . .”
Nivelle shook her head in doubt. “The odds are slim that the legends hold true. Any wraiths that came with Torin from Skotos should have died long ago. But, if you are going to go, then I must caution you. Wraiths are notoriously devious creatures who care only for their own needs.”
Across the patio, Roirdan’s voice echoed. “Why am I the only one eating?”
None of us replied, but Maeson made her way to the table and took a seat next to him.
“Would you be willing to go with us?” I asked Nivelle. Niall and Aremis didn’t object.
She pursed her lips in a show of contemplation, but I had a feeling she had already been thinking of how she could accompany us.
“On one condition,” she answered. “There is a plant that I require as part of my diet.”
Niall’s brows furrowed, but I quickly explained. “She doesn’t eat meat.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Does the plant have a name?”
“Zaldora,” she said. “The entire plant will do, roots and all.”
“The Zaldora plant thrives near the coast,” Niall pointed out.
“And it is a delicacy on the isles,” Nivelle stated. “We have traded with sea merchants for it in the past, but those journeys have been few and far between, and I have a longing to taste it again.” She tossed him a dry smile. “You’re the High Lord. I’m sure you can acquire it rather easily.”
He lifted a brow at her emboldened attitude. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I knew that he would have Maeson see to the request. If there was anyone who knew how to get their hands on rare plants, it was her.
A deep voice announced from behind us, “If you all aren’t at this table in the next thirty seconds, I can’t guarantee there will be any bacon left.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Coming,” I called over my shoulder.
“I need to have a word with Silas,” Nivelle informed us. Her eyes met mine, and the look she gave me said, You know where to find me.
I nodded in understanding.
She disappeared into The Keep, and the rest of us made our way to the table.
Roirdan had eaten just about everything on every platter, but Maeson and Aremis didn’t seem to mind. Neither did I. We had lost our appetite the moment Nivelle uttered the word “curse.”