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Aiden continued, “You can’t see it, but it’s really bloody amazing. He can protect an individual by focusing on them, even shield an entire kingdom. Quite possibly all of Elysian at this point. You felt it as you entered camp last night. That rush through your body. It was his shield. Given time, it won’t affect you as it did. We all get used to it. Garrik is a master of illusion. And his shield makes the eye see what is not there. Anyone who wouldn’t know better sees a camp full of soldiers. From the inside, we are, well … this.”

A prickling ache bit her fingertips, pebbling her skin and reminding her of the moment she felt this so-called shield thrum through her bones. “So, the mighty prince is still keeping things from me?—”

“Not keeping them from you, possibly just slipped his thoughts. He has a lot on his mind these days. Impending doom of Elysian and all.” Aiden winked. “Be grateful. Without his shield, faeries like those two wouldn’t be able to stand in the open and practice their talents.”

Alora’s eyes followed his pointing finger to the arena.

A lavender-skinned faerie with short iridescent wings held sunbursts of fire in his hands. To his right, a High Fae female hovered a few feet off the ground, clothing whirling in the wind around her as she lifted into the air.

Eldacar stood at a small table behind them, a book open in his hand. He had one raised high, waving it around, moving his palm like he was lifting something.

The High Fae hovering focused on him like student and master.

It was anincrediblesight. Even bitter for being kept in the dark, she could admit that.

Besides Rowlen, she’d never witnessed anyone else using magic. Not ever. Captivated by the sight of them, Alora could only stare, as if the magic was a natural wonder.

The fire danced in the faerie’s palm, bursting in shards of flame and swaying in such magnificence. It was almost a sin to watch such a spectacle.

Her body slouched in jealousy as she imagined her own white flame’s heat in her palms, but it was promptly replaced with awe when the faerie’s fire swirled around his body like a shooting star and disappeared into the clouds.

Her eyes burned from the liquid lining them.

This was … beautiful. How magicshouldbe.

Free. Flowing. Painting the sky, the earth, everything around with its brilliance—perfection.

Not used for evil or stolen for a single tyrant’s selfish gain.

Alora had to turn away. If she stared a moment longer, she would’ve burst with grief over her loss. Over her powers stolen from her. Maybe if she knew when they would return, it would’ve made it easier to continue watching.

Aiden’s eyes glistened like he was just as enchanted as she was.Could he be jealous, too?

But she found herself studying him. Studying his unusual clothing, the curved sword to his side. And she spoke before thinking. “How did you end up in Zyllyryon?”

“Ah, you noticed.” Aiden half bowed. With his left hand, he lifted the tricorn hat from his head to his chest before straightening. “Captain Aiden of the Cursed Sails.” He adjusted the red sash around his waist. “My, what an adventure that was. My father and I traveled through realms never heard of on a ship with no limits. I had no magic, but I didn’t need any with her guiding the way. When Father”—he tilted his chin to the sky—“I became captain at a very young age. I had this unwavering desire for not only fresh coddlefish but for magical items. We pillaged and plundered realms unknown, collecting many along the way. Until I found a magic atlas. Anywhere I would point, the Cursed Sails would go. One day, I met a fiery redhead. She stowed awayon my ship, and before I knew it, we ended up shipwrecked far off the coast of Zyllyryon. Losing every bloody magical item I procured. Damn shame. That ship was my life.”

Alora gaped. “You’re apirate?”

Aiden furrowed his brows, swaying his gaze to his right, and spoke to the air. “Out of all of that, she only heard pirate?” He laughed and turned back to her. “Anywaves, eventually, my skill of item procurement came in handy one day in a tavern. Our dear ‘Gray and Scary’ thought I would be useful to him, and he offered me a position in the army. The rest is history.” He shrugged.

“That was three years ago, when he formed this Dragons Legion?”

“No,” he said, elongating the vowel as it rolled from his mouth. “It was long before that.” A shudder wracked his body as visible pain danced in his eyes.

“What?”

It seemed as if he battled his own thoughts, unlikely to say anything else. But Aiden’s face softened. “It’s not my place to say. Garrik is … different … now.” He spoke slowly, as if the words were cutting wounds into his tongue. “Sometimes the worst pasts can charter an even brighter future. You don’t know him—yet. He’s trying, Alora. He’s been making up for his forced mistakes for almost three years now.”

“Forced mistakes?” Alora scoffed, furrowing her eyebrows.

Aiden sighed and pulled his hat off his head, brushing the velvet clean, avoiding her critical expression. “I’m sure you’ve heard stories. Magnelis’s Savage Prince. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, strikingly handsome.” He grinned, but the attempt to make her smile failed. His hat dropped to his side, distressed, and his body was unable to remain still. “That wasn’t the real Garrik. He didn’t want to do any of it.”

Her mouth twisted as his words boiled her blood molten. “There’s a big difference between not wanting to do something and actually doing it. We all have choices. We must live with the consequences of what we choose. Murdering younglings and their families, burning down cities, imprisoning his own kind. It’s not a matter of wanting to. He took pleasure in it, I’m sure.”

Something like thunder must have shaken the entire valley, because it roared straight through Aiden. His shoulders tensed, chest puffed, and that once bright-and-shinny face exchanged for a lethal snarl. “You’d be wise to change your opinion about him. Garrik didn’tdecideto do a bloody thing—he carries the scars to prove that. Magnelis is a ruthless High King. Not even his own son can escape his wrath.”

Alora pacedthe outer arena wall, observing small collections of soldiers sparring and Mystics performing unimaginable powers.