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I was so close. I reached out my hand, knowing her fingertips were a hairsbreadth away—

Then she was ripped from me again. Just like in that throne room. I reached for my magic, tried to shift, to throw out vines to curl around her limbs and keep her there. But there was nothing inside of me, no magic. Only cold.

Veyka screamed louder, sharper. The sound filled my ears, torturing me, getting deeper and more guttural with every passing second. Until they weren’t Veyka’s screams at all, but my mother’s.

My mother was screaming. I knew that scream. It had echoed in my memory for decades until I learned to block it out. I couldn’t fix it then, but I could fix it now. I could get to her, save her, protect her.

I had to protect. My beast demanded it. I demanded it. I was the beast. I was power. I was the strongest fae born in thousands upon thousands of years. If only I could get to her…

But the screams got farther and farther away.

Only to be replaced by the screams in the throne room. The screams of my victims, elemental and terrestrial alike, as I tore them apart for no reason other than they happened to be in the way of my rage.

Protect.

Mate.

Fear.

That must be what the coldness was. Fear, leeching into every corner of my soul. I could not protect her—Veyka. I couldn’t protect my mother. I was powerful. I was powerless. I was nothing. I was a failure.

* * *

Once the nightmares started, they visited me nightly. Unlike Veyka, I didn’t try to chase them away with aural or medicinal tea. I let them come.

Because I deserved it.

20

VEYKA

Arran didn’t show up to the sparring ring, leaving me to Lyrena and Gwen. I knew he was avoiding me. Fair, I supposed. All we’d ever been good at was fighting and fucking. Lately, the former had held sway. Not that I didn’t want him in my bed, but…

I’d felt that growl, the beast inside of him calling out to me. I knew his eyes burned. Did mine, now that I was apparently gifted with magic?

But it felt different. Before, it had been my choice. I’d wanted him for myself.

Now, I couldn’t tell if it was the mating bond or me. Maybe the mating bondwasme. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

What I was sure about was that without the fucking to drive away the noise in my mind, fighting was the only thing that would. If Arran wasn’t around, then I had my blades and two Goldstones to match myself against.

Elora occasionally joined us in the ring, testing her swordsmanship against my knives. She was quite skilled, which I ought to have expected given that she’d become commander of the Elemental Kingdom’s armies at only fifty years old.

I was enjoying sparring with her, until Esa showed up.

“I have some concerns, Your Majesty.”

I didn’t even break stride as I parried Elora’s blade. “Write them down and submit them for consideration to the Round Table.”

“Perhaps I may present them to you directly—”

“You may not,” I said simply.

Fine droplets of water bloomed in the air. Esa was all about power and control. Something like satisfaction surged through me at the fact that I’d so easily been able to irk her.

“Thank you for the cool mist,” I said, swinging upward and catching Elora unaware. I saw the panic in her eyes and felt the frost from her fingertips a half-second before my blade pressed to her throat. “It feels quite nice after all of this exertion.”

The water evaporated. Esa stalked away. Elora grinned.