Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Sylvi
The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I pressed my palms against the edge of the marble basin and leaned forward, bracing myself as a riptide of emotion surged through me.
The air felt thinner here, as if the walls themselves pressed inward, attempting to crush me from all sides. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow past the knot in my throat.
Aldric was here. My brother—my foolish, reckless, stupid brother—was somewhere inside this very palace. Gods above. If the queen even suspected that he was the person I’d followed last night...
Ravin had said he was safe, but Ravin had also said guards were posted outside my family’s home and that angry townsfolk had come demanding answers.
That my brother had been furious. And worst of all, that the queen’s tone was shifting.
Blame was being sculpted, shaped by whispers.
Ravin hadn’t said the words outright, but the message had been clear: They planned to throw me, and maybe even my family, to the leopards.
I gripped the edge of the basin until my knuckles ached.
As if that wasn’t enough, there was the other thing.
The thing I couldn’t name. The thing that pulled me to Jack like a magnetic force, like a thousand threads of invisible silk tethered between our bones, each one drawing me closer into his orbit.
He was my best friend, but I wasn’t blind to his male beauty. I had urges like anyone else. I’d entertained thoughts, fleeting dreams of what it would be like to touch him, kiss him, sink into the quiet sanctuary of his warmth. But this thing happening between us was different.
Since he’d returned from his seven-day trip into the Wildlands—a journey he still hadn’t spoken a word about—something had changed.
It was like our souls had stirred awake, like some deeper connection had clicked into place, and I couldn’t put my finger on it.
It went beyond friendship or desire. It was like a door had creaked open between us, one I hadn’t even realized was locked.
Now, with every look, every breath, every accidental touch, it opened wider, beckoning me into something vast and unknown.
I ghosted a finger across my bottom lip, replaying the moment he’d touched it, savoring it like the taste of forbidden fruit.
The heat he left behind rekindled, seeping down my spine and blooming low in my belly.
I squeezed my thighs together as the memory slithered lower, as if his touch had imprinted itself in places he hadn’t even touched.
Winter’s grace… I slammed my eyes shut, but it was too late.
Images surged forward, vivid and shameless.
Jack’s mouth, his fingers, the sound of his voice turned ragged by need.
My breath hitched as if the images hadn’t been a product of my own imagination, but a memory—a memory where that tongue he’d used to lick the butter off his finger had brushed between my legs instead.
I splashed my face with cold water from the porcelain pitcher, over and over until my cheeks stung and rivulets dripped from my chin.
Blinking, I stared at my wet face in the mirror.
Get it together, Sylvi. You can’t feel this way.
Jack is betrothed to a princess. You’re just his childhood best friend.
A common fae with no title. A soldier. A nobody with zero claim to his heart.
My reflection stared back, my face pale, shadows under my eyes, lips slightly swollen from fever and sleep.
My fingers lifted the hem of Jack’s shirt, exposing the bandage Maelis had wrapped around my stomach.
I peeled it away slowly. The wound was nearly gone.
A scar remained, pale and puckered, but the skin had already begun to knit, pink and smooth like months had passed, not mere hours.
I pressed a fingertip to it. No pain. It didn’t make sense. Jack was certain he hadn’t healed me. So, what then?
His words returned like a whispering wind through a meadow: What if the shifter-fae were real? What if the gods didn’t choose only royals to bear magic?
But why would this knowledge be hidden from us? Why would our magic be dormant?
I wanted to laugh it off, but I couldn’t deny the tiny tug that had pulled at my heart when Jack mentioned the shifters.
I’d told Jack they were mere folktales, stories meant to scare children from wandering too deep into the woods.
I knew because my father used to tell me such stories about the people of the woods, about the ancient ones.
But what I didn’t tell Jack was that, unlike every typical child, I hadn’t heeded my father’s warnings; in fact, the stories had only made me more curious.
As I continued to stare at my reflection, one particular memory replayed in my mind…
I couldn’t have been more than eight when we’d been visiting family in a village outside of Isenheim, and as was usual of me, I’d wandered too far from the village, looking for adventure.
My parents had gone looking for me, but for some reason, no one thought to check the woods.
Why would they, though? Most children had been scared to death by their parents about wandering into the forest, lest the fairy folk or the shifters grabbed them and ate them for dinner.
Not me, though. I didn’t run from danger; I ran toward it.
I’d not needed to wander far into the woods, though. I’d stood at the edge of the pine-thick forest, lured by something that silently sang to me. The mist had been thick that day, muffling most other sounds, softening the rustle of tree branches in the wind. The quiet had been almost too surreal.
And that’s when I saw it.
A wolf.
Massive, its coat a blend of starlight and smoke, with eyes like liquid silver, bright and intelligent.
It had stared at me as though it had known me.
As though it had not been merely beast, but something more, something far older.
Something watching. I hadn’t screamed; I hadn’t even run. I had felt no fear.
Just…awe.
The wolf had stalked closer, not menacingly, but intrigued…
by me. It had walked right up to the tree line, so close I could’ve touched its snout.
And that’s when I realized how big it’d been.
Bigger than any other wolf I’d ever seen, maybe even double in size.
My hand had itched to touch it, to run my fingers through its thick fur, but shouts erupted from behind me, my parents and the townsfolk frantic that the wolf would attack.
I’d turned to tell my parents I was okay, that there was no need to panic, but when I turned back toward the wolf, it had vanished between the trees without a trace, leaving no tracks in the snow.
Back then, I’d thought nothing much of it. The memory had faded into the recesses of my mind. Until this morning, when Jack’s story about his visit to the archives and the manuscripts he’d found had made the memory resurface, and now I was struggling to shake it out of my head.
Gods, this was utter nonsense. That wolf had looked gigantic because I’d been a mere child. And I’d been lucky the beast hadn’t attacked me and taken my body back to its pack to feast on me like any wolf pack would do.
I needed to get myself together, for crying out loud. My world was about to collapse. I could potentially lose my post as captain. My family could be prosecuted. Hel, I could be thrown in a cell.
And yet, all I could think about was the way Jack had made me feel with one simple touch and how he’d somehow sparked curiosity in me again. The type of curiosity that could get us thrown into the dungeons for heresy.
I’d wasted too much time thinking about all of this. I needed to get dressed, head into that War Room, face the queen, and settle this matter once and for all.
Staring into the mirror again, I noticed something just above my brow. Nestled in the darker strands near my temple were streaks of pale, silvery-white hair. What the Hel? That hadn’t been there before. I leaned closer. Sure enough, there it was. One thin streak, like a snowy path through a forest.
A knock jolted my spine straight, Jack’s voice filtering through the door. “Syl, are you ready?”
I tore my eyes from the mirror, too startled, but finally able to focus. “Just a moment!”
The uniform brought by the chambermaid had not been mine.
My things were still at my house as I never had a chance to pack for my move into my palace chambers.
The jacket hugged my chest too tightly, and the pants clung to my hips too awkwardly.
No proper hair tie lay nearby, so I ripped the gold curtain cord from the drape covering the washroom window and twisted my hair into a quick braid, tying it at the end.
I turned to the mirror once more, fingers brushing that pale streak that seemed to have come loose. It glinted like a lightning bolt streaking across my hair. Something deep within me stirred, like a rumbling growl. I blew out a low breath.
What was happening to me?
Well, whatever it was, there was no time to dwell on it.
I shook myself, straightened my uniform, and opened the door, only to slam straight into Jack.
My palms landed squarely against his broad, hard chest. He’d donned a high-collared, thick royal tunic, but I could still feel the shift of his muscles under my palms.
Breath rushed out of me, and I went to pull away, but he caught my hands, holding them gently in place. I lifted my chin up until our eyes locked.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked, those lush lips of his curling into a warm smile.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He lifted a hand, fingers brushing over that gray streak in my hair, and his brows pinched.
“Seems I’m growing old…” I laughed, trying to mask the anxiety wrecking my nerves, and attempting to tuck the loose strand back into my braid, while also using the opportunity to pull away from him, because, Gods, the feel of his chest, the nearness, it was too much for me right now.
Not to mention that my senses were flooding me with the sheer essence of him. Everything too pronounced, too potent. I hadn’t been ready for it, not for the crazy assault of his scent. Goddess above. My blood was rushing too fast in my veins.
“Syl, we’re twenty-one. I’d hardly call that old.”
“Yeah, but did you forget I age faster than you? You know, like most common fae do. I don’t have royal blood slowing my years.
” Thankfully, the chambermaid had left me a pair of boots by the foot of Jack’s bed, which gave me the perfect chance to put even more distance between me and that mouthwatering scent of his.
Quickly strapping them on, I strode toward his door when he said, “I miss it.”
I halted mid-step and looked at him over my shoulder as I reached the door. “Miss what?”
“Your hair. Loose. Unbound. The way it falls over your shoulders like a cascade of midnight water.”
Fuck. There he was again, tugging on that damn tether with words he should not be saying to me. “But…I never wear it down.”
“My point exactly,” he replied, his lips quirking to the side as he leaned in to open the door for me. “Let’s go, elskan mín. Our doom awaits.”
I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow as we exited his room.