Chapter 22 Aurelia #2
The world hadn’t quite righted itself. My body still buzzed.
My skin ached where he touched me, but not from pain.
I stared up at him, at the sharp tension carved into his jaw, at the way his golden eyes searched mine like they were trying to unearth a secret.
This close, I could see that his irises weren’t just gold—they were faceted, layered, the outer rim burnished darker than the center.
His grip loosened, but he didn’t move.
Something in me pulsed. Confused. Caught somewhere between the aftermath of a vision and the heat of his fury. Was this about Gabriel? Or something else? Something older. Something he was trying not to name.
The echo of the vision still clung to me, raw and disorienting. My skin crawled at the thought of him inside my head, showing me things I hadn’t asked to see. I didn’t know whether to recoil in fury or demand to know how he’d done it.
“Am I supposed to know what any of that meant?” I breathed, my voice sharper than I intended. “Because if you’d just asked—nicely—I might’ve let you explain. No hands required.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just stared, like he was weighing whether I was worth the truth.
“You’re right,” he said finally, voice low, teeth clenched. “I apologize.”
Then he pulled back, quickly rising to his feet.
“That was a memory,” he said.
I stood, breath still shallow.
“Gabriel was her personal guard,” he continued. “And her lover. The woman you saw—that was Eryndis.”
He began pacing.
“Shadow Elves aren’t just loyal, Aurelia. Their bond is older than vow or spell. Once they sense something worthy—something that calls to their purpose—they begin to align with it. And once invited, once accepted… They dedicate themselves completely. It’s not a choice. It’s a calling.”
He stopped pacing, eyes flicking to mine.
“When you spoke to him, he didn’t hear possibility. He heard promise. Because he sensed something in you. And you…you invited him into it. And now, he will not stop. Not until one of you dies.”
His voice dropped lower. “That’s what they were to Eryndis. Guardians of what mattered most. And once Gabriel gave her his word, he followed her into ruin to keep it. Until she was gone.”
He looked at me, the weight of the past heavy in his gaze. “And now, he believes in you.”
My jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
We stared at each other, the silence drawn tight between us, sharp, fragile, and full of all the things neither of us was ready to say.
Finally, I broke it.
“Look,” I said, voice low but steady, “I came to Nyxarra to save my brother. Not to be dragged into ancient politics or locked in a castle with men who think they can shape the path I walk.” I paused.
Malachi didn’t respond. His expression remained unreadable, except for the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“The ball,” he said after a beat, his tone flat. “Lysara’s waiting to help you prepare.”
As if summoned by name, the door to the adjoining chamber creaked open and Lysara leaned in, fingers fluttering in a lazy wave.
“Hello,” she said, voice lilting. “Hope I’m not interrupting something.”
“You’re not,” Malachi and I said in unison.
“I’ll be going,” he muttered, making his way to the opposite interior door. I had forgotten my room connected to his as well.
Fantastic. Couldn’t wait to hear him brood through the wall.
Malachi left and I was alone with Lysara.
“You need to fit me for a gown, I hear?” I asked, brushing myself off like I could remove the discomfort that sat beneath my skin.
Lysara smiled as she made her way to the wardrobe. “Ah, Malachi must have read my mind.”
“He enters your mind uninvited as well, does he?” I asked.
Lysara stopped and turned to face me, her face more serious than I’d ever seen it. “He does not. Nor will he ever. That is a violation of our friendship and trust.”
“I don’t think he values either of those things based on what I’ve experienced.” The words came out clipped, sharp enough to cut. Heat flared in my chest, tightening my fists at my sides. “He’s selfish. Arrogant. Treats people he’s just met like they’re his to command.”
Lysara took a step closer, her words as cold as ice.
“You do not know him, Aurelia. Nor can you begin to fathom what he has endured. What we have endured. All that he has done—the sacrifices he has made to keep us alive. Think poorly of him if you must, but do not speak poorly of him to me. You are young. This place is strange to you. But remember: you are the stranger here. We do not trust you any more than you trust us.”
Lysara’s words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, leaving heat crawling up my throat. Embarrassment, exhaustion, anger—they all tangled until I couldn’t tell them apart. I looked away, swallowing hard. “I… can ready myself,” I said at last, softer than I meant, but steadier than I felt.
At the door to her chamber, Lysara paused. “This world is cruel, Aurelia. Do not let it turn you into something you are not.” And then she left.
Alone, I exhaled slowly, the silence closing in heavier than her words.