Page 104 of The Reaping Rose

Atlas’s mouth falls open, his eyebrows pinching. Surprise shifts into wild amusement as a smile stretches his face. The boldest, biggest laugh bursts out of him, and it’s… electrifying.

He steps into the room behind me, walking closer now and dropping his voice so only I can hear. “I don’t doubt that for a moment, Greer Maliren. And it’s blood I’ll willingly spill if it makes you happy.”

My breath catches, but I quickly mask it. I roll my shoulders back, refusing to let him get any hint of the static suddenly coursing through my veins. Atlas’s attention is so intense; I can hardly breathe, hardly think past the warmth in the room.

Heat that goes beyond what’s left from the sun beating down on the desert all day. It’s a heat that Atlas carries as his gaze skims the crowd around us, and I realize he’s doing more than holding this conversation. With every glance, every flick of attention toward us, Atlas is using his magic to sear into their minds, manipulating their memories. Wielding his flames.

Any warmth I felt toward him a moment ago turns to ice at the blatant invasion of privacy. I hate it, even if I understand that’s why he was sent on this mission with me.

“What are the limits?” I ask, my tone sharper than it was a moment ago. “Can you erase any thought they’ve ever had should you wish?”

“Technically, yes. I can erase any memory from any time.” He glances at me.

“So they could look you in the eyes and be thinking about you right now, and by the time they glance away, you’re gone from their thoughts?”

“Something like that.”

I huff out a breath, trudging ahead, while he follows.

“That bothers you,” he guesses, not letting his gaze leave the room now that we’re surrounded.

“It’s an invasion of free will. What if that memory you stripped changes their future actions? How will they know what’s real? What’s altered?” The irritation flaring is about more than Atlas, but he’s at my side, so I direct it all at him.

It’s fire magic and light magic. It’s mind reading and manipulation. It’s the fact that it’s so easy for wielders to do what they wish, no matter who gets hurt in the process. Where does that leave the rest of us? Believing the wrong things? Fighting for the wrong Crown?

Pawns in their game.

“What you do is wrong.” My teeth clench.

“What I do is necessary so you can walk through this room without them summoning their king to execute you.” His voice is flat and unapologetic.

“Was that your excuse in the Ley Court too? You were fulfilling Wilder’s mission, no matter whose mind was tampered with in the process. I don’t appreciate being treated like a plaything.”

Atlas steps in front of me, stopping me in my path. “Is that what this is really about? You’re worried I erased your memories in the Ley Court? I never touched your mind, Greer.”

“You can’t lie to me. I don’t remember you.”

He smiles, but there’s something sad about it. “You wouldn’t.”

“Because you made it that way?”

“No.” Atlas shakes his head slowly. “Because you didn’t see me.”

Around us, the room buzzes. Fae laugh and dance and drink. Flesh meets flesh. Haelmarrow smoke hangs heavy in the air. But I don’t look away from Atlas, even as I feel his magic stretching the room. Flames singeing the memories of those around us. He doesn’t blink.

And I believe him.

I didn’t see him when he was in the Ley Court, and for some reason, he seems upset about that fact.

“Ah, you made it,” Lochlan interrupts, greeting us with a stick of haelmarrow in each hand.

He gives one to each of us, and I immediately bring mine to my lips, trying to ignore whatever silent message it seemed Atlas was trying to send me. My mind floats with a deep inhale. Spots curl at the edges of my vision.

It quiets my mind.

It’s peaceful.

With an exhale, I shift away from Atlas, from the constant heat radiating off him. And I hate how cold my veins feel as I do it. Even as I take another hit and let my mind float with the drugs, my bones are suddenly chilled.