Chapter 7
Xavier
The dark magic hit Zara’s chest, her chestnut hair lifting and swirling around her head as agonizing pain lanced through our bond.
Her body collapsed at my feet, and I watched her writhe, the swirling vortex of magic weaving itself into her.
I reached for her, calling out her name, but it was as if the magic wouldn’t let me go near her.
My mate was being forced back with her soul, or I guess her memories, and Morgana—my mother—was grinning, her yellow eyes manic, as they locked onto Zara as she watched with glee.
The dream shifted.
I was in a closet, a small child crying in fear as magic swirled around her. I tried to comfort her, my hand stroking her cheek, but that seemed to make it worse.
The dream shifted again, and I watched from the corner of the dark, musty room as my mother tore into Zara’s mind.
Her nails were biting into Zara’s scalp as I watched my mate thrash desperately against the bulky silver chains binding her to that damned chair.
Blood was trickling from her nose, and I fought to get to her, to help her, but again I couldn't move. I could only watch as these horrible things played out in my mind. I was trapped in this nightmare, forced to feel everything she did. The pain. The resentment. The anger. Each emotion twisted and reshaped under my mother’s will, manipulated into something else entirely. Trust. Love. Obedience.
Rage burned through me, a searing, uncontrollable ache burning my veins.
Zara’s eyes shot open, her cheeks streaked with tears as her blue eyes met mine. I didn’t know if she truly saw me or not, but I stared back, promise blazing in my gaze as I shouted through our bond all the ways I would make Morgana pay.
*
My head pounded, and I jolted upright in bed as a vivid memory of a dungeon flashed, an echoing scream ringing in my ears.
The black silken sheet clung to my body like a second skin, my entire frame drenched in sweat.
Gritting my teeth, I flexed my right arm.
The throbbing pain radiating from it made my veins itch.
I slammed shut the barrier, the two doors I pictured in my mind between Zara and me, locking them just as Gunnar had taught me.
The pressure in my skull started to subside, and I panted heavily, running a hand through my hair. A strand fell loose, obstructing my vision as I struggled to calm my racing thoughts. It's been three damn weeks of this.
Of these memories…
Of being forced to witness fragments of her childhood, her life...
Of watching her be used...manipulated, tortured.
I could block her more effectively when I was awake, but when I slept, it was as if my subconscious was drawn to her. I had less control over the barrier between us and would typically wake up like this, only recalling fragments as if from a dream.
The barrier faltered, and I could feel her annoyance pulsing through our bond. A low growl escaped my lips as I ripped the sheet off my body.
Whatever the Fates had planned, it was cruel.
Resentment coursed through my veins, and I wasn’t sure if it was me or her. I fortified the barrier between us, gritting my teeth as I swung my legs off the bed. She couldn’t be allowed access to me, but it was difficult to keep the connection closed.
Her betrayal had ruined me, as if she had gouged out my still beating heart. I expected it to poison any feelings between us, but these memories I've been experiencing had me clinging to hope. Our connection was strong, and it wouldn't be if some part of her didn't still care.
My mate's mind had been laid bare, and that version of her was good. She wanted to stop Morgana and help our people. That version of her would never have done something so cruel. She was my mate, and though we hadn’t known each other for long, I felt it in my soul, that something wasn’t right.
I saw what Morgana had twisted her into–a killer, a weapon.
If she could do that, what else could she do?
Didn’t I just witness her pilfering through Zara’s mind, manipulating her thoughts, her memories.
Erasing them? How many other times had that happened throughout her life?
And what lasting damage had that caused?
Morgana still had part of Zara’s soul… I knew that much. I could feel it through our connection. It wasn’t whole, still fractured like it had been before. I just needed to find a way to undo the damage my mother had inflicted. If that was even possible.
My uncle knew the truth about my mother for four centuries and kept the truth hidden from his people, his own blood. Somehow that betrayal stung more than my mate's.
The magical gag Morgana had on my uncle lifted the moment they all disappeared.
Flynn had choked and sputtered, explanations leaping off his tongue as he tried to explain himself.
But I hadn't heard a word of it. Rage and grief already consumed me, and I silenced him myself, placing that same gag on him my mother had. He’s been confined to his cabin since then. A prisoner.
I commanded no one see him, not even Julian. My uncle had been unharmed from what I could tell, and he didn’t deserve to explain himself, not after what happened… not after this. Let him rot and see how it feels to be kept in the dark.
Dedra and Theo were the only ones who argued with me about seeing him. Flynn had been the closest thing to a father they'd ever known. But my anger with him was too fierce, too untamed, and I refused them, sending them instead to prepare our armies for the war that was now unfolding around us.
A knock sounded at my door, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.
The door swung open and enlarged black eyes peered in through squared lenses as Julian let himself in. His scruffy blonde hair was wildly unkempt, a long red robe hanging off his bare shoulders. The black pants he wore were wrinkled, and the dark circles under his eyes suggested he wasn’t sleeping.
Julian strode toward me, a rolled up scroll in his hand. “Aria,” Julian said dully, waving the parchment in my face for me to take.
I sighed, the rough paper scratching the palm of my hand as I grasped it. “What did she do now?”
Julian only pointedly nodded at the scroll, and I unrolled it, my eyes scanning across the message.
Your Majesty,
I write to you from a camp on the southern Territan border, under General Korman’s command. While I would not normally presume to address you directly, the situation here has become untenable. I fear the General’s judgment may be clouded.
Her sole focus has become the dismantling of the Territan ward, an objective she pursues with utter disregard for the well-being of her soldiers.
We have seen numerous injuries, and many are depleting their power reserves.
This has left our position critically weakened and alarmingly vulnerable to attack.
Her activities are drawing unwanted attention to our location. Witches have launched several strikes, likely sensing our diminished defenses. I felt compelled to bring this to your attention, as I do not believe you are aware.
Respectfully,
Your soldiers at the front
What was she thinking? We'd already told her to stop trying to dismantle the ward.
Julian and Gunnar were already working tirelessly to find a solution.
If they hadn't figured it out yet, why did she think she would miraculously succeed?
She was weakening our border defenses. If the witches discovered the camp couldn't stop them from entering, they would swarm and gain access to more land.
A snarl escaped my lips as I shook my head, tossing the parchment aside.
This was the third report I’d received about her.
I knew the attack on Territan had affected her the most. It had been under her protection, after all, and so many died that day.
I knew Aria took that loss as personally as I did.
Territan was her home, her territory to protect, but it wasn't Aria's fault.
We were ambushed, unprepared for an army to cross over.
And it hadn't been a human one, like we thought.
No, it had been made of other fae, other witches.
Zara tricked us, lied to us, and made us believe the human realm posed no risk.
Convinced us we had nothing to fear. But it had all been an illusion, a deception.
Aria was now acting out of anger, revenge, and she was being reckless.
We managed to evacuate most of our people to neighboring villages where we've set up refugee camps.
Many of our people have also generously opened their homes to those in need.
While there haven't been any further attacks on our territories, my armies were ready, and I would not allow Morgana to seize another inch of my kingdom.
“Any progress on the ward?” I asked, not bothering to comment on the letter. I lifted my gaze to Julian’s, but his lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes misty as he looked anywhere but my face.
“No,” Julian said tightly, and he spun, my gaze snagging on his oversized fuzzy slippers as he strode back toward the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder at me. “Theo and Dedra are back. Nothing new to report, but they asked about Flynn again.”
My jaw ticked, the muscle feathering as I clenched my teeth at the sound of my uncle's name. I merely nodded at Julian, and he sighed, closing the door behind him.
I fell backward onto the bed, my hands forming fists as I brought them to my forehead.
Theo and Dedra had been guarding the northern ward nonstop these past weeks while Aria was stationed in the south. Randy and a few other captains rotated between all the camps to relieve them. I knew I should have been out there with them, rallying my people.