Page 92 of The Reaping Rose

“He’s convinced his people to give it willingly.” The edge in Lochlan’s tone is palpable. “They believe that by sacrificing some of their magic, they’ll help Malachi and his armies fight off the Well, although I’ve been unable to confirm if that’s how he’s using it.”

“How can they believe him after everything he said—everything he plans? Why would they help him?”

“Only a select few know the truth of what happened in the Ley Court—what he said. Rumors spread, but Alasdair has been quick to squash them. Those who are left are on Malachi’s side, or they’re in hiding. Most of Lyrichia believes their king is fighting for them.”

“Of course they do.” This time, it’s Atlas’s voice that catches me off guard.

Anger that’s so unlike him when he’s generally carefree. But it’s not just his tone; it’s the heat radiating off him. A searing warmth that licks my skin. So hot, yet it somehow sends a shiver up my spine.

For the first time, I get a hint of his warrior side. One I don’t doubt is ruthless with a sword in his hand. But what surprises me most is that Atlas is angry for my people, not at them. He’s upset by what Malachi has done.

“So you’re here to find Malachi,” Lochlan says, taking a step back. “I have to warn you; his army will kill you on sight and bring him your head to earn his favor. Whether they agree with him or not, they know better than to go against him right now.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Atlas stands taller.

Lochlan nods, looking between us. “Then I’ll check with my scouts when they return in the morning. I believe he’s moved west, but I won’t know until then. Stay, relax, sleep. You’re going to need it.”

The door cracks, and a Fae with long white hair steps through. Her skin is nearly as pale as the strands, but her eyes are bright blue.

“Galla will show you to your rooms. Although I’m sure you could find your way.”

At that, Lochlan leads us out, Atlas keeping me ahead of him down the hallway. My chin stays high as we are led through the manor. I don’t blink, and I don’t look back.

Enemy territory.

Is that what this is now? What it will always be?

I fight for my people, my friends. But under which crown?

Chapter 31

Wilder

In the depths of the night, I search the stars for my mate.

I search the threads for her, but darkness stares back.

An unending void I can’t seem to escape.

I found her, I had her, and like fate is playing a cruel joke on us, she slips through my fingers again and again. There are rumors you can’t change fate. That it will find ways to correct itself. I can’t help thinking that’s what this is.

Fate reminding me I’ll never be able to keep her.

Lifting off my sister’s grieving pillar, I slowly make my way back into the palace. A Gate would take me right to my room, but then I’d be faced with the fact that Elorie isn’t there. She’s somewhere in the stars, trying to fix this, while I can barely seem to fix myself.

I run my fingers through my hair; aether prickles with the urge to get out. A century ago, I’d use a training ring or battlefield to work out the crackling heat of unease inside me. I’d run away while my mother handled the politics of the court.

Now it’s up to me.

I was born for this, and still, I’m not ready.

Instead of heading toward my room, I take another hallway. It’s quiet this time of night, and no one is around to wonder where I’m going. When I first returned to Vaelier, I avoided this room, but lately, I’ve found myself staring at this closed door more nights than not.

Once I open it, I’ll have to accept Selia is truly gone. Her grieving pillar might mark her death, but to step through this doorway and not be met with my sister’s storm-cloud scent—the humid smell of rain right after it falls—means I’ve really lost her.

My hands find the copper handles, and I hold my breath, pulling the doors open.

No one comes down this hallway, so there are no ears to perk at the screeching hinges. It’s dark inside until I cast a net of aether overhead, lighting the room.