Page 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T wice.

Twice now, Solarius had seen his wife naked.

Twice, he hadn’t been able to touch her.

At least, not in the way he so desperately wanted.

Solarius stared at the closed door, the only obstacle preventing him from running back into that damned bedroom and hauling Narissa into his arms.

Her screams nearly broke him.

The sound was unlike anything he’d ever heard before.

Raw.

Gritty.

They would haunt his dreams.

But he stayed away, exactly as she asked of him.

He couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like she was in the shower now.

Her soft murmurings drifted through the closed door, and while it seemed like she was calm, her emotions told a different story.

Every so often the bond flared to life and he felt her rage, her grief and sorrow keenly.

As though those very same feelings belonged to him.

Yet there was nothing he could do to ease her pain, to offer her any semblance of comfort.

Worst of all, she’d been right.

He should have stormed into that room and pulled Calfair off her.

He should never have doubted her.

He should have been there for her, should have saved her.

Because she had loved him.

Solarius replayed that bit of information over in his head again.

“You wouldn’t have been stupid enough to think I could ever love anyone but you.”

Narissa loved him.

Maybe not now, but she had once, and he’d let her down.

He’d broken her heart and left her to fend for herself against a monster in disguise.

His mind drifted to when the autumn season encompassed all of Aeramere, when he’d been deep in his cups during Embernyte, and hating every aspect of his life.

He thought about how Reif approached him and warned him of Calfair, of how Solarius how found his prick of a former friend cornering Narissa, attempting to coerce her to the gardens beyond the ballroom.

A new kind of fury burned to life inside of Solarius.

Calfair had shamelessly tried to seduce Narissa again and all that time Solarius stupidly thought she wanted the bastard’s attentions.

He sucked in a sharp breath, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time.

Solarius needed a drink, otherwise he was going to do something he would regret, and it involved ensuring Calfair Skyhelm could no longer draw a single fucking breath.

After a brief, albeit bumpy carriage ride from Windsong, Solarius stepped out into Galefell, the city nestled high in the sky among the clouds.

Galefell was a stunning floating island hovering along Aeramere’s northwestern coast.

It was the home of the Eponians, the majestic winged horses that pulled the carriages through skies, making travel between all five houses expedient and uncomplicated.

Shops and homes decorated the soft landscape, swelling in various heights with frosted rooftops, swirling ivory pillars, all connected by ornate bridges made from stained glass.

Though it was nightfall, the curving streets were illuminated with gilded lanterns drifting through the air, each one filled with sparkling faerie fire.

Fluffy clouds banked around the whole of the city, reflecting hues of lavender and icy blue set against the backdrop of an inky starlit sky.

Solarius burrowed himself into his coat, ducking his head against the bitter chill gusting up from the Chantara Sea.

The frigid breeze carried the scent of night jasmine, frozen mountains, and the faintest tang of the ocean.

Conversations buzzed around him as air fae bundled in fur-lined coats strolled through the bustling city, slipping in and out of stores and eateries, seemingly not at all bothered by the snow-laden ground or cold temperatures.

Solarius didn’t mind the winter season, but it was certainly not his most favorite.

He ducked into the nearest tavern to escape the constant chill and was instantly surrounded by the overcrowded warmth of too many bodies crammed into a small space, coupled with the smell of stale alcohol and expensive perfume.

A scowl etched its way across his brow as he maneuvered through the lively tavern bursting with raucous laughter and low-hanging lights.

Behind the bar was a shimmery glass sign with mist moving through it that read, The Thundercloud.

Every so often thunder would rumble throughout the tavern, the crowd would erupt in a chorus of cheers, and sparkling cider would pour from a fountain shaped like a cloud near the back.

A couple weeks ago, the Thundercloud would have been his preferred type of locale—loud and obnoxious, brimming with bad decisions, and the perfect place to drink oneself into oblivion.

Alas, that was no longer the case.

Now, he found himself in search of a single stiff drink to alleviate the overwhelming urge to murder his former best friend.

Solarius sidled up to the bar, inserting himself between a dour female whose frown rippled across her brow in heavy lines, and a robust male with beads of sweat clinging to his forehead and neck.

Grimacing, Solarius ordered a spiced whiskey, intent on keeping to himself.

He was grateful none of the Thundercloud’s patrons looked familiar as he was hardly in the mood for company.

Instead, all he wanted to do was punch Calfair hard enough to knock his smug smile off his face.

He also considered taking great delight in breaking every bone in his body.

By some horrible yet hostile twist of fate, a gust of wind blew open the door to the Thundercloud and in strode Calfair with two of his crude cronies.

Calfair’s dark, coiffed hair was swept back from his face, slick like it had been coated in luster oil.

His cheekbones were too sharp, his smile too wide.

Solarius knew many ladies considered him quite the catch, most of them gushing about his flawless skin or striking black eyes.

But Calfair’s handsome looks were strictly a veneer, a perfected glamour to disguise the venomous serpent hiding in plain sight.

He wore a pristine white shirt tucked into perfectly tapered light pants and his cruel grin was made predominantly worse by the pitiful excuse for facial hair sprouting from his chin.

If Solarius didn’t know any better, he would have sworn Calfair plucked his own pubic hair and then attached the black sprouts to his face.

“Then I made her dance for me until her pretty feet bled.” Calfair’s boisterous voice drew the attention of almost every soul in the tavern.

No doubt he was talking about the horrors he inflicted upon his pets—the mortals he kept in cages hidden within the pristine walls of House Galefell.

“I debated bringing her to our next ball, but I fear she’ll be dead by then.”

Calfair chuckled darkly.

Seething rage pumped through Solarius’s veins.

He knocked back his shot of whiskey, then crushed the empty glass in his hand.

Shards of broken glass cut into his palm, and scarlet oozed between his knuckles.

He ignored the pain pulsing from his palm and pushed back from his seat.

Shoving his way through the crowd of bodies, he discarded his overcoat onto the back of an empty chair and quietly rolled the sleeves of his shirt, buttoning them into place.

Calfair’s glossy black eyes found him.

“Solarius.” His name fell somewhere between a greeting and disgust, and Calfair flashed him a caustic smirk.

“Can’t say I expected to see you here, old friend. I would have thought you’d be busy enjoying your new wife. A bit too free spirited for my liking…great tits, though.”

Uncomfortable laughter rang out, but Solarius heard nothing save for the rushing of his own blood.

Closing the distance between them in two long strides, he met Calfair with a callous glare, standing so close, he could smell the ale tainting his breath.

“Do not ever speak of Narissa again,” Solarius warned.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll fucking kill you.”

The mocking amusement in Calfair’s eyes dimmed to cold understanding.

“Ah…figured it out then, did you?”

Solarius popped his jaw.

“That you drugged Narissa, then stole her virtue by pretending to be me?” His fists coiled tightly, ready to strike.

“Yeah. I figured it out.”

“Too bad for you I got there first,” Calfair chided, then he tapped one finger against his chin, considering.

“Tell me, have you bedded her yet?”

Calfair ran his tongue along his teeth, and at Solarius’s silence, a sadistic smile stretched across his face.

“No? So, you haven’t heard that sweet little sound she makes when she finds release? Pity. Though it no longer matters. She may spread her legs for you, but we both know it will only be my face she sees from now on…good luck with that.”

Blind rage pummeled Solarius and he slammed his fist into Calfair’s face with so much force, the bastard’s head snapped back and blood spurted from his busted mouth.

Calfair stumbled back, staring at the crimson stains littering his crisp white shirt, and launched himself toward Solarius.

Screams and shouts filled the Thundercloud, but he was ready.

His other fist hooked through the air and the satisfying sound of bone crunching against Calfair’s too-straight nose fueled him with even more fury.

They grappled, taking vicious swings at one another while attempting to throw the other to the ground.

At one point, Calfair’s head bounced off the granite bar and Solarius thought for certain the prick would finally stay down, take his beating like a proper lord, and leave before he humiliated himself further.

But he hauled himself upright and sent a gust of wind barreling into Solarius.

He flew through the air, slamming into anything in his path, until his back met a wooden table, splintering it in half.

Pain ricocheted through his body, a silent scream of agony that tore from his shoulder to his spine.

His own lunar magic roared to life, ready to bring down the wrath of the midnight heavens, but Solarius suppressed the surge of power.

He shook off the discomfort and launched himself at Calfair, prepared to mutilate him with nothing more than his bare fists.

If that lousy excuse for a fae needed to cheat and use his magic because he was losing, then Solarius would make sure his defeat marred his honor for the rest of his days.

He got in one more vengeful hit, the might of his elbow colliding with the underside of Calfair’s jaw, before someone’s hand clamped around his fist.

“What the—” Solarius whipped around to face the offender.

He had every intention to tell them off for interfering, but instead found his brother-in-law staring back at him.

Drake Kalstrand stood just behind Solarius, the play of light in the tavern bouncing off every surface but him, leaving Drake cloaked in a touch of darkness.

His mouth was set in a firm line, and the leathers he wore were a far cry from the polished appearance of other males, lending him an air of intimidation.

For a brief moment, Solarius thought Drake meant to rebuke him for fighting in public—if Ariesian had been the one to discover him, he would never hear the end of it—but the focus of Drake’s deadly glare was aimed at Calfair.

“Take a breath.” Drake released him then, adjusting the roughened strap of leather bound across his chest, the one decorated with a varying assortment of daggers.

“He’s still standing.” Solarius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blood smearing his skin.

“That may be…” Drake glanced in his direction and rolled his shoulders back, the depths of his eyes reflecting a kind of commiseration, as though he understood just how much Solarius wanted to end Calfair’s life.

“But I’m afraid I cannot allow you to kill him.”

“Why not?” Solarius barely recognized his own voice.

He flexed his hands, chest heaving, heart pounding.

“It would be in poor taste.”

Solarius cut Drake with a look of severity.

“What are you talking about, Drake?”

Again, the god of shadow and prophecy’s lethal glare slid back to Calfair.

“You would sully the Starstorm family name if you kill your future in-law.”

“I beg your pardon?” Solarius’s gaze swung back to Calfair, and the jerk had the audacity to flash another cutting smirk—bloodied mouth, bruised face, and all.

Solarius shook his head, wincing as it throbbed along his temples.

Impossible.

There was no way Ariesian would promise Sarelle to Calfair, not when she was supposed to be pretending to persuade Prince Aspen to court her.

Stars above, Calfair was almost as bad as the prince himself, and Solarius was ashamed he’d ever been friends with the miscreant in the first place.

Calfair was an absolute scoundrel.

A selfish, cocky asshole who enjoyed tormenting those he deemed beneath him.

“That’s right, Lord Solarius.” Smugness dripped from the sarcastic use of his title and Calfair spat a disgusting mixture of saliva and blood onto the tavern floor.

“Your brother and my father are working on uniting one of your brothers with my sister.”

Solarius’s jaw dropped and he snapped it shut.

If Nyxian didn’t already know, he would likely find out soon enough, and once he did would lose his stars-damned mind.

Tovian would be the one to take the news in stride and accept his fate, but Nyxian…

he would fight.

There were two things in this world Nyxian simply could not stand.

The first, being told what to do.

The second, the uncanny idea of sleeping with one female for the rest of his life.

Solarius stole a glance at Drake, who nodded once in confirmation, and a riotous stream of curses filtered through his mind.

The last thing he wanted was to have any kind of connection, marital by name or otherwise, to this bastard.

Calfair sauntered forward, but there was no mistaking the way he winced and favored his left leg as he walked.

“So, run home to your little wife before she finds her way into my bed again.”

Solarius lurched toward him, but Drake’s arm shot out with blinding quickness, preventing any further movement.

Drake grabbed a fistful of Calfair’s shirt and hoisted him into the air for everyone in the tavern to see.

“I suggest you shut your mouth, Skyhelm. Before I cut off your cock and shove it down your throat.”

Solarius bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

Most might assume that was nothing more than a vicious threat, but if anything, it was a promise.

After all, Drake had conducted that exact exploit on a man who dared to lay a hand on Solarius’s youngest sister, Creslyn.

“You wouldn’t—” Calfair choked out.

“Try me,” Drake countered.

Shadows swarmed, engulfing the space around them, leaching it of warmth and replacing it with a permeating cold that sank deep into Solarius’s bones.

Gasps and a few startled cries echoed throughout the Thundercloud, and the fear of those who stood nearby was so palpable, he could almost taste it on his tongue.

“Leave.” Drake commanded Calfair like he would one of his notorious dragons.

“Now.”

He dropped him without a second thought and Calfair staggered backward, smoothing his wrinkled shirt, and lifting his chin with a sense of feigned authority.

Calfair scoffed once, sent a vitriolic look in Solarius’s direction, then turned around and stomped out of the Thundercloud, all while trying to disguise his limp.

Solarius straightened, though it wasn’t like he was much better off.

In fact, he was fairly certain the impact with that damn table had broken a rib or two.

Maybe three.

But it had been well worth it.

He loved a good brawl, specifically those without magic, the ones where it was only a matter of brute strength and bare knuckles.

It gave him a kind of delicious satisfaction, making the hideous bruises and broken bones all the more rewarding.

Despite the shock of pain reverberating throughout his busted body, Solarius locked his spine and accepted the glass of whiskey that Drake shoved into his hand.

He would never admit it out loud, and while he didn’t particularly care for Drake, his loyalty to Creslyn and their family was unrivaled.

Which was why he didn’t argue when Drake clinked his own glass of whiskey against Solarius’s and they knocked back their drinks in unison.

The warm, cinnamon flavor burned the back of his throat, and he tapped the empty glass on the bar’s smooth surface, debating having another.

Rolling his neck once, he continued to twirl and tap the glass.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t.” Drake shrugged, lifting one hand in the bartender’s direction to signal another round.

“That was pure luck.”

“Mm.” Solarius licked his bottom lip and hissed as the metallic tang of blood coated the tip of his tongue.

“Getting myself into a bar fight doesn’t really strike me as something important enough to be revealed in one of your prophecies.”

The corner of Drake’s mouth twitched, but it vanished just as quickly.

“Not quite.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Curiosity piqued, Solarius feigned indifference.

Drake rarely left Creslyn’s side, not unless it was absolutely necessary and of the utmost importance.

“If not stopping me from ending the life of that miserable piece of shit?”

Another nonchalant shrug.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

Drake collected the two new shots of whiskey and slid one in Solarius’s direction.

“I am tracking someone of interest. Someone who has no business being in Galefell.”

Tracking, indeed.

Drake could move between shadows.

He was like a wraith, undetectable until it was too late.

They raised their glasses again, knocking them together once more before downing the fiery contents.

“Who?” Solarius asked, not at all expecting a response from the impassive god.

Drake’s eyes darkened.

“Your mother.”