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Pinned between him and a thick trunk, he no longer needed two hands to hold me. One stroked my jaw, tilting my head up to his, as the other pressed at the throbbing spot between my thighs. He moved his hand in circular strokes and a moan escaped my lips. He pressed harder, running his thumb over my mouth as I tried to catch my breath.

He smirked with his head pressed against mine. His hand trailed to the nape of my neck and something in his eyes darkened. He tugged at the root of my hair in a way that felt achingly familiar and I groaned as his lips claimed mine.

A loud snap echoed through the woods. We both froze.

Nikolai cursed in the distance. “I feel compelled to tell you I was turningaroundwhen that branch decided to announce itself. With my foot.”

I chuckled into Riven’s chest as his hand shifted from between my thighs to my waist.

Nikolai kicked one half of the stick. “Is the moment over or should I go?”

Riven’s jaw flexed. “What do you want, Nik?” It sounded like a threat.

I nipped his bottom lip and felt his fingers dig into my hip.

“It’s dinnertime,” Nikolai said as an explanation. “Arda told me that you had finished training. I didn’t want to keep you waiting …”

I jolted against the tree and shimmied out of Riven’s grasp. His neck flexed as he watched me adjust my tunic before stepping around the trunk. My eyes immediately fell to the wineskins in Nikolai’s hands.

I swallowed, throat suddenly dry and wanting.

Nikolai took his time trailing his eyes over the disheveled state of Riven’s collar and my braid with a sideways grin. Riven grunted, but didn’t comment on the wine. His eyes were pained as he watched me grab at the wineskins just as I had grabbed at him. He swallowed the rejection and straightened his back. “I need to let off some of my power before we head back to the city. Can you stay?” He made a point of looking at Nikolai.

Nik’s eyes widened, but he played off his shock well enough. “You know you never have to ask.”

I looked up at Riven’s pulsing jaw. “Do I need to stay?”

Riven’s lips were nothing but a thin line as he looked at me in the same defeated way he had outside the stables. “No.”

I didn’t even make it back to my burl before I needed to sit from the wine. It had been hours since I ate and the use of my powers burned through all my energy.

I leaned against the tall tree that shaded Maerhal’s statue. I found myself coming here often since I had returned to Myrelinth. Mostly because Maerhal’s return meant that the small meadow was usually empty, but also because it reminded me of my own mother. The one I had barely gotten the chance to know.

All I had was that brief moment in the Rift where she had left me with more questions than answers. The selfish part of me wished she had been the one to return home from the dead rather than Maerhal. I was happy for Nikolai and Syrra, but there was a loneliness that came from witnessing their joy that I could never admit to. They had kin who still lived. Relatives and loved ones who had known them their entire lives.

But I was alone. A Halfling turned Light Fae, destined to either be the savior or extinction of my race.

I swallowed another swig of wine. Once I finished both skins I would be able to fall asleep without worry for who would find me there.

And then I’d do the same on the morrow. That was all I had to offer. That I would be a blade that could be used then holstered. I had broken free from the kingdom only to become exactly what Aemon made me. Gerarda had been right when she called my existence pathetic.

I took another gulp of wine and the liquid turned sour on my tongue. I closed my eyes and I saw Damien’s face painted on my eyelids. I hated him. I hated the way that his cuts never seemed to truly heal—that he had found a way to use my own vices against me and that I was too weak to fight back.

CHAPTEREIGHT

IWAS TOO RESTLESSto return to my burl when I left the meadow. I kept the second wineskin slung around my shoulder and I walked aimlessly around the tunnels of the lower city, as far as possible from Riven and the burl I knew would still be lit.

I was angry. At myself. At him. At the world and the terrible choices it had given us. I didn’t know if there was room inside me for anything else. Until there was, I would deal with the anger alone.

Eventually I found myself in the infirmary. I would’ve walked straight past if it weren’t for the strange humming coming from inside. I shielded my faelight and stepped into the main room. Maerhal sat, cross-legged, on the middle of a bed. She had a book in her hands, but the cover was upside down.

Her wide, pretty eyes glanced up at me and she smiled, pointing to the chair. I pulled the wineskin onto my lap and sat. “You don’t sleep?” I whispered in Elvish.

Maerhal sighed and curled one of the braided vines along her finger. “A bear rested too long must wake.”

I slumped back into the chair. After so many years trapped in that dungeon it was no wonder Maerhal’s body did not want to sleep. She had slept for years—decades—at a time in order to survive. I’d always thought of her Elvish sleep as a refuge but after weeks avoiding Damien’s visits into my dreams, I wondered if Maerhal’s dreams had become her jailers too.

I uncorked the wine and took a hefty swallow. Maerhal turned her head to look at me with the wide, unblinking eyes she shared with her son and sister.