Page 87 of The Reaping Rose

The Arch to the Mortal Realm is twined at the face of a cliff on the North shore. We’re closer to Quietus than Orehla here, and while the sun beams overhead, something other stirs in the air. Something distant but deadly. Darvel warned that the Well is creeping closer, and here, I can practically taste it.

Wilder hasn’t left my side since we stepped through the Gate to Andare. His hand rests on my back, guiding me. Anchoring me. Even as he reviews the plan with Callum for the hundredth time this morning, he doesn’t leave my side.

At this point, I’ve stopped listening to what they’re saying. No one really knows what waits for us on the other side of the Arch. The Fae have been shut out for over a century now. To them, that might be a blink in time. But for humans, generations will have been born and died.

Entire lives will have come and gone. Soon, I’ll see what’s come of the realm my people came from. A place I thought I understood based on what was passed down in customs and stories. But now, I wonder what was true and what was history being altered.

After all, the queen played a role in the first humans becoming stuck here. Were they ever given a choice, or were they simply pawns in a bargain?

Are the humans still as ruthless?

Are they any better than the Fae?

Wilder’s fingers tickle my spine, offering me what little comfort he can as he senses my emotions through the thread. With our bind firmly in place, it’s nearly impossible to hide how I’m feeling. I manage to filter thoughts sometimes, but my anxiety peaks the longer I stare at the Arch to the Mortal Realm.

Wilder continues to watch me out of the corner of his eye while Callum talks, but I don’t meet his gaze.

I can’t.

I stare at the Arch ahead, ignoring the doubt brewing and focusing on its intricate details. Like the territories, I’m learning each Arch is different. The one that grew in the Ley Court was twisted with vines and branches like those of the Quietus palace. Its leaves were lush and roots thick as they wound around each other to form a doorway.

The Arch to the Mortal Realm is entirely different.

Posts protrude from the ground on either side, jutting up from the creviced dirt as if they drove up in a burst when the Arch formed. The tips of the posts are as sharp as spikes. Dead branches stretch from all sides. They reach like arms stretching out and up, growing through each other and forming a canopy at the top. Moss coats everything, with small black mushrooms sprouting at the base of the posts.

When Wilder and Callum are done discussing the plan again, Callum joins Perame to assess the Arch and decide where we’ll spill our blood.

“Have you been through this Arch before?” I glance up at Wilder.

“A few times.” He turns to me, taking my hands in his. “It depended on the king or queen occupying the throne. Each one had different accords between our realms. We never stayed long when we did, regardless of our reason for the visit. There’s magic in the Mortal Realm but not enough to prevent the Beating.”

The Beating.

I almost laugh at the irony as I press my hand to Wilder’s heart. He already suffers from it as his heart throbs wildly in his chest. It should have claimed him months ago, soon after it began at the prison. Yet here he stands.

It doesn’t make sense, but neither does the fact that I pulled him back from death. I suppose we’ve yet to learn the consequences of that day.

“We’ll worry about that later.” Wilder places his palm over the back of my hand.

“You keep saying that, but if we’re not careful, we’re going to run out of time.”

“Not yet.” His thumb grazes my skin.

Comfort moves through the thread as he tries to soothe my worries. It only does so much. We have a plan for everything—the orb, Malachi, the realm. But how do I save my mate?

Wilder clears his throat, his gaze drifting as he changes the subject. “It’s been over a century since the Arch closed. We don’t know what’s on the other side anymore, so you need to be careful. Trust no one.”

“It can’t be worse than what’s here.” I force a smile. “Will I be able to speak to you through the thread once I’m through?”

“Not likely. A few emotions may find their way, but anything you sense will be delayed by how far it has to travel between the fates and realms.” He frowns.

“Try not to miss me too badly then, King Riven.”

“You know I will.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Come home to me, Starfire.”

“I promise.”

I close my eyes as Wilder’s magic envelops me. There’s nothing but the scent of him mixed with the saltwater breeze. Our bodies close for a quiet moment. The sea air whispers around us. It’s warmer here than the breeze on Alyssium. Andare has little in common with my home.