Chapter 56
LYRAE
My sister, dressed in one of Rooke’s mother’s fanciest ballgowns, stood taller than a queen as she watched her former prison burn, the wind pulling her hair into a silver banner, her eyes as cold as death.
We’d spent an hour debating who had the honor of razing Evernight to the ground—Zephryn’s dragonfire or Rooke’s new power.
Ariel cast the tiebreaking vote, and she, of course, chose both.
Only when the place was in smoking ruins did we head back to Frostveil Keep to regroup for our journey north, Ariel and Ryland carried by Varian, while, with a touch of his fingers, Rooke instantly transported both of us back.
I estimated we had at least ten minutes before Var could make the return trip and half an hour before Zeph and Tristan dove out of those clouds and alighted on the ramparts.
“I don’t know how, but as soon as we get to Tempeste, I’m convincing the queen to let you keep the Triune.
” I told him, breath exploding through my lips as I paced away, then right back.
“I wasn’t lying when I said Anaria doesn’t have the authority to take them away.
If anything, you should be king of this whole godsdamned realm, given you’re the oldest bloodline. ”
And that, right there, was why this whole situation was fucked.
I didn’t know how, but I had to convince Anaria—Kaden Rooke was not a threat.
Rooke, who now dragged a mantle of power with him everywhere he went, magic drifting off his shoulders in choking waves, a glitter of gold to his eyes, like he’d been kissed by the stars, a reminder that he had fifteen millennia of power standing behind him.
Rooke, with his arrogance and inability to be humble, who Anaria would take one look at and decide…he was more than just a threat.
He was the rightful heir to the Fae throne.
“What if I don’t want to be king of the whole godsdamned realm?” Rooke lifted a dark brow, strands of hair blowing around his beautiful face. “Do you know how badly I want to kiss you right now?”
“Focus, Rooke.”
“Oh, trust me, I am.” Those soft-as-sin lips curled up into a lazy smile and I rolled my eyes.
“I mean focus on the future. I was sent here to confiscate the Triune, take it back to the Citadelle so Torin—she’s our seer—can lock them away forever.
In fact, I swore a godsdamned oath to my queen to do exactly that.
We both know they should remain here, with you, and you’re not even fighting for your birthright,” my voice broke.
“You’re not fighting, Rooke. Why?”
He dragged his knuckles down my cheek, slow, like time wasn’t running out. Slow enough to make my heart ache. “Why am I not fighting to hang onto some old relics?” he mused, with a hint of that cold arrogance. “That’s an excellent question, commander.”
Rooke had landed us up on the ramparts. He’d shed the Crown hours ago—but he still looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes, though something about him seemed lighter, too. “Why do you think I’m not fighting to keep them, Lyrae?”
I knew what I wanted the reason to be, staring into his eyes.
I knew the words my thundering heart wanted to hear, with his scent curling around me like we were wrapped in a storm cloud.
“No idea,” I said flatly, rejecting the future I wanted with every cell of my being…because people like me…didn’t deserve a happy ending.
I stepped away as Ryland, Ari, and Var landed on the shore below us and we suddenly had a rapt audience of three, and my time had run out to convince him of…I didn’t know what, exactly, but I just felt like some important opportunity had just passed us by.
We watched the gray clouds swallow up the black dragon and golden wyvern, the small trio of forms clinging to their backs.
“Let’s hope this works,” Rooke murmured. “Picture your favorite place in the city, somewhere you go all the time, and wish you were there again. If this doesn’t work, I suppose I’ll end up looking like a fool, and I’ll never hear the fucking end of it.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no one would ever mistake him for a fool. Not with the way power coiled around him like a serpent, waiting to strike. Not when his fingers closed around mine—warm, callused, steady—and the world answered his call.
This wasn’t like flying with Varian, that grand sweep of cold air, a lurch in my chest, the world turning into a smear of gray.
His power didn’t ask permission.
Rooke’s magic simply took reality by the throat and folded it in half.
Light snapped to a thin silver thread. Sound vanished, as if someone had plunged my head underwater.
For one brutal heartbeat, there was nothing but the pressure of his palm against my skin and the sensation of falling down a glassy well, all of Frostveil Keep bending into strange, distorted shapes around us.
Then—
Familiar stone beneath my boots.
The smell of fresh-baked bread in my lungs from my favorite bakery.
Cold, clean wind knifing down narrow city streets off Mount Sylvan.
I pitched forward into Rooke’s arms; he caught me with the same hands that had dragged me across the world like a shooting star.
Strong, capable hands I wanted to feel on my body…
In fact, I couldn’t stop wanting him, and this close, with my face pressed into his shirt, with his power pounding around me, something inside of me roared back.
“Lyrae.” His voice was low, rough as he dipped his head to peer into my face. “Breathe for me, princess, just breathe. You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I did—once, twice—my pulse beating like a drum in the hollow of my throat. His fingers locked around my arms, and I leaned into his strength, let him hold me up, as if I couldn’t trust this new reality, not without him anchoring me to it.
We stood on the highest street level of Tempeste, just a step below the Citadelle.
In one jump, without even ruffling his perfect hair, Kaden Rooke had flown me halfway across the world with only a thought and a wish.
Straight to my city.
To the exact spot I’d pictured in my mind.
My favorite bakery was still open, the front window piled with breads and croissants and pastries, the palaces of the wealthier royals stacked up the street behind us, snow dusting their roofs, fir branches and bright red berries decorating their window boxes for the coming Yule.
Tempeste’s walled levels climbed the front of Mount Sylvan in a proud, spiraling ascent—beige cut-stone walls layered like steps toward the snow-peaked heavens.
The uppermost tier—where the Citadelle dominated the city—caught the winter sun and turned it into a spiked crown.
Below that, terraces and districts were stacked in neat, orderly rings, each separated by decorative gates and sweeping stairways that zigzagged back and forth in pale, marble ribbons.
Like Tempeste had been carved from the mountain’s bones.
And maybe it had.
Legend said the city was built over top an ancient temple to the Old Gods, one that predated the arrival of the Fae, and after seeing the catacombs for myself, I heartily agreed.
“That trip took six hours by dragon,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
Rooke’s gaze remained on my face, not the city.
That same strange intensity—like he was trying to memorize a map—remained on his face, turning his gaze into a force of nature.
“My magic…works differently than any other I know about. It’s older, I suppose,” he said simply, with a one-shouldered shrug, as if his magic was… nothing special.
That simple statement sent another sharp spike of fear through me. He was too formidable, too proud, too…Rooke.
Anaria—and the others—would take one look at him and see the same thing I had, the first time I’d met him.
A cruel, pompous aristocrat who should not be trusted with power.
“Is this…the right place?” Rooke asked, suddenly looking…nervous.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight. “This is…perfect, Kaden.”
I turned my head, heart swelling like a balloon as I took in the snow-dusted cobblestones, lights starting to appear below us in the lower levels, down in the shadows of the mountain, while up here, the higher levels still caught the last of the watery sunset.
Above us, a new watchtower spiked against the sky, wispy tendrils of smoke rose from chimneys in steady lines. Banners stirred along the ramparts—Anaria’s silver crest, a white wolf—stitched in fresh thread onto pale blue fabric.
“Ryland and Varian will be hours behind, then,” Rooke murmured, threading his fingers through mine, turning to face me, his soul shining through his glittering blue-gold eyes.
“Hours behind,” I murmured. My mouth twisted. “They’ll be freezing their asses off, and complaining before their boots hit the ground. Ariel’s bundled up between them, though. I made sure of that.”
“Your sister is going to love this city,” the corner of his mouth pulled, almost-smiling as he pulled in a breath of that fresh-baked, bready smell. “I’ve…after dreaming about this place most of my life, I have to say, it does not disappoint.”
“My sister is going to be a menace in this city,” I corrected him. “But I’m hoping Torin will find Ariel something that keeps her busy.” I slanted him a look. “Something that doesn’t involve thievery. Or her Wyrdtracker skills.”
I’d have to rely on Torin, because my own future was too tentative right now to make plans for my own sister. Or for myself. For all I knew, I’d be spending the next few months in a cell while Anaria and the rest of the court decided my fate.
Trust was a hard thing to earn, and taking my own tarnished history into account, they would have every right to see me as—at worst, a traitor, and at best, as someone incapable of following a simple order.
As the commander of her armies, I would make the same decision, if one of my Dreadwatch stood in front of me, feeding me some song and dance about trusting a complete stranger, capable of destroying everything I’d built with a snap of his fingers.
Rooke’s grip tightened on mine, just slightly, as if he, too, realized I stood on shaky ground.
I forced my shoulders down, my posture into something less like armor. “We have six hours,” I said briskly. “Until they arrive and we stand in front of Anaria and convince her you are not a threat.”
I eyed the mantle of power pouring off him, my heart sinking. Which you totally look like right now, so can you cool it with the magic stuff?
“And ask her to do something rulers rarely do—trust you with a power that threatens her reign.”
Rooke’s eyes flicked toward the Citadelle high above us. “You think she’ll refuse.”
“I think she’ll weigh the danger against the safety of her people.” I’d been her blade for too long to pretend I didn’t know how keenly my queen assessed risk. “And you—” I nodded toward the faint aura surrounding him. “—are an unknown.”
His expression shuttered. “The Triune isn’t.”
“No,” I admitted. “It’s legend with a history rooted in fear and superstition. And your bloodline, Kaden…” I took a breath that tasted sour and hopeless. “With your lineage, she will see you as a rival to the throne. I know her father would have. The royal court will. Even I did…at first.”
The wind rose, snapping my cloak and tangling it around my legs.
But…I took another longing sniff of fresh-baked bread.
Our moment of judgement was hours away.
And even with the cutting wind, even with a verdict looming over our heads, all I could see was Kaden.
Black waves framing his too-handsome face.
His dense petrichor scent that made me think of rain, the way his fingers were woven between my own, his thumb painting circles on the inside of my wrist.
Every moment we spent together felt like a gift, and whatever came after…
Whatever came after, I would face, like I’d faced every other trial in my life.
With my chin raised high and a big fuck you in my scarred-over heart, so no one could really hurt me. Because if I lost my position as commander, if I lost Anaria’s friendship over standing up for what was right…
I already felt something inside of me breaking, because I’d already lost so much, and being cut out of the Valarian royal court—as stupid as that sounded in my own head—might just finish the job.
But I would shelter the others from the fallout as much as I could, because in the end, this was my choice.
My failure.
With that resolved, I let some of my worry be carried away by the mountain’s wind, and after I bought the most delicious-looking croissant I’d ever seen, I tugged my hood down over my face and let Kaden wrap my fingers up into the warmth of his big, warm hand.
“Keep your hood up and come with me, I want to show you something.”