Page 136 of The Edge of Darkness

I needed Auren. She was always able to bring me back from the edge, even when I felt like I was about to topple over it. I could tap into her mind, but she had never been here before. There was no way for her to port. And did I really want her to see me lose my shit on a couple of old stone pillars?

The shadows surged again.

My goal had been to get my mind right and remain in control while releasing my power in small bursts, just as Verdi used to have me do. Instead, I was stuck fighting my own will, clenching my jaw as shadowfire swarmed my blood, my thoughts.

I had the urge to let it all out.

That same gritty voice as before, male and female as one, suddenly whispered in my head.

Let it out, Dark One.

My breaths faltered, and I bent at the waist, trying to keep everything contained.

Shadowfire unfurled from my palms, spilling into the air like a torrent of darkness. I had no other option but to aim it at the nearest pillar, just as I had done hundreds of times before. It shot across the space with deadly precision, and slammed into the stone with a force so powerful it shook the ground. Silence filled my ears, and I watched as a current of black flames swarmed the pillar. It felt like a spool unfurling, like an extension of myself taking its wrath out on the temple ruins.

A formidable tempest of darkness.

I clenched my teeth, trying to slow the shadowfire’s rage, but it . . . it wouldn’t stop.

Panic flooded my gut.

I tried to close my palms, to cut the power off. Still, it spewed forth like a dam had been broken.

Fuck.

This was not good.

The force with which the power vacated my body caused me to tilt back. I reinforced my stance, anchoring my heels to the ground so as not to lose my footing like I was losing hold of the raging black flames. They were beginning to spread, flooding the atmosphere like a stain on the world.

A strained grunt broke free from my throat.

Control, I told myself. I willed the word into being, calling the shadowfire back to me.

Finally, I caught hold of its leash in my mind and pulled. The last of it punctuated the air in every direction, and I heard the deep crack of stone echo throughout the mountains.

I heaved in deep breaths, staggering backward. My hands fell limp at my sides as the darkness faded into shadows on the wind.

Across from me, the pillar that had taken the brunt of the force bore a jagged fracture that cut diagonally from top to bottom. Never before had my power even come close to compromising the integrity of these structures. Not with whatever enchantment reinforced them.

A sharp tinge of fear—a feeling I’d long-since buried deep in the recesses of my mind—crept forth once again as I stared, gaping, and watched in stunned silence as the column splintered, and crumbled before my eyes.

I was going to marry my soulmate today.

When a human finds another human that they love and want to spend the rest of their short little lives with, they marry them. My father always joked with my mother and said that she was the one he wanted to annoy for the rest of his life. They had been the perfect example of a loving marriage, of finding joy with someone every day, in a world where there was often so much misery and struggle.

I had found that with Niall—in a fae. A High Lord, nonetheless. Leave it to me to be the one to achieve happiness in a way that was so far out of the norm, it was absolutely unheard of. I’d always taken the path that most women wouldn’t in life, so it seemed only fitting that I found myself in another realm, set to marry a fae High Lord in less than two hours.

The most powerful male in fae history, I reminded myself with a proud smile.

A few months ago, that would have sounded like a twisted nightmare. My former self would have balked at the very thought.

That felt like a different lifetime now.

And I guess, in a way, it was. I was not the same person that crossed The Veil. The fae realm of Anbrya was now my home, and I would be the Lady of Calledan in just a few short hours.

The fae didn’t marry . . . they bound their souls together in what they called a “mating ceremony.” When I asked Amarna what the “binding of souls” meant, she informed me that it wasn’t literal. It just meant that two souls chose to be with each other for as long as they lived, never forsaking one another. The blood oath that would take place during the ceremony was to signify one’s commitment and promise.

I’d been toeing a thin, emotional line for the majority of the day, and the term “soul-binding” had tears of happiness threatening to drip down my freshly-powdered face.