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20

Sylvia

D espite instinct telling me to stay on guard, I lost myself searching for familiarity in Veloria. As Marcellus guided me through the cave, I couldn’t help but compare my surroundings to Elysia. The space was massive, much like the forest I’d grown up in. The gathering spaces and living quarters built into the stone reminded me of the sprawling underground tunnels of home.

Fairies flew and rushed about, tidying or busying themselves with tasks I couldn’t keep track of. Naturally, every single one paused to look at me before hurrying on.

“I hope we didn’t send your people into a panic,” I told Marcellus, wincing. If our initial welcome was any indication, we were lucky to have not been killed on the spot.

To my surprise, he chuckled. “Not at all. The Celestial Feast is upon us. There is much to be done. Of course, you are invited as a guest of honor. As I said, your presence here is nothing short of extraordinary.”

Maybe don’t make buckets of blood the price of entry, and you’ll have more visitors . I pursed my lips and said, “That’s very kind, but I don’t think I can stay.” My stomach chose that moment to growl. I swore I could smell authentic fairy cuisine already—the herbed bread and berry stews were practically calling my name. I blinked hard. “I would rather not trouble Veloria longer than necessary. My hunters must eat, too, after being so depleted.”

Marcellus paused at an elegantly carved archway that appeared to lead into a hub of dwellings. “The feast will easily provide for your hunters,” he assured.

I faltered, considering this. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have Jon and Cliff taste my food for once.

The fairy commander steered our flight through an archway. Behind it lay a two-story building in the popular style of most of the others—carved thresholds yawning over sturdy, polished red wood structures. It was only when we landed on the cool limestone balcony that I could make out signs of weathering at the base of the structure, evidence to decades of withstanding the spray of the water below. I grasped the railing and leaned over the edge.

There were three tiers of dwellings stacked beneath us and two more above, poking out irregularly like cogs on a wheel along the craggy stone. At the very lowest level, the dwelling had sloping ramps to the water instead of railings. A fairy with dark braided hair tinged with blue at the roots was seated outside with her bare legs plunged into the water. Her hands moved skillfully over the flower strand she was weaving—rosebuds and marigolds and peonies all woven into an intricate floral rope that snaked around her.

The task was hypnotizing, inspiring homesickness as I remembered a time when my errands had been to gather berries and scrub the Elysian kitchens before the final meal call—not a tender of bloodshed. I furrowed my brow as the memories flickered in. I pictured Jon and Cliff, surrounded by unknown fairies and waiting for me, and the thought suddenly soured into betrayal. Simpler times didn’t mean better.

“This way,” Marcellus beckoned.

He was holding open the door for me. Folding my wings to my back, I hastened to step inside. There was a quiet hum of energy in the dimly lit dwelling, with only a few women tending to various tasks. They all looked up at me when I entered, the murmur of conversation seizing like an ousted candle.

“They found the wanderer?” a woman voiced, her tone hushed.

“She found us,” Marcellus said.

He placed a gentle hand on my lower back to guide me inward. Despite the intensity of their curiosity, I didn’t get the sense I was unwelcome. On the contrary, the fairy closest to us scrambled to greet me, kissing my cheeks and clasping my hands tightly, introducing herself as Roslyn.

I barely noticed as she stepped away, enamored by the exquisite furnishings that opened up around us. A pair of crystal chandeliers scattered fae light across the windowless chamber, providing an ethereal wash of bright light. Plump cushions in jewel-tone fabric dominated the floor alongside velvety lounge furniture. End tables were stacked with books, their spines lovingly creased. The walls were polished smooth, dominated by midnight-blue tapestries, where gold and silver threads paid tribute to constellations. Some of the colors were dulled as though ancient hands had woven these long ago. My fingers twitched, fighting the desire to stride over and feel the delicate handiwork for myself.

Roslyn returned with a swath of fabric in her arms, holding it out for my inspection. I frowned, tracing the neckline of what was clearly a dress.

“Something fresh to wear while we launder your things,” Roslyn said. There was something maternal in the way she smiled at me, goading. “If you plan to keep them, that is. We can always dispose of them—”

“That’s not necessary,” I cut in. I stepped away, shooting Marcellus a wary look. I assumed this had been on his orders—which apparently, traveled through Veloria as quickly as wildfire.

“Consider it a favor to me,” he replied, taking the gown and pressing it into my hands. “You’ll feel better, and you’ll attract less attention.”

There it was—less a kindness to me and more about protecting this village from distress. Somehow, this softened my resistance.

“You haven’t had a new face around here in decades,” I scoffed. “A few trailing eyes are the least of my concerns.”

“Even still.”

His gaze flickered ever so briefly downward—at my hands. Dried blood from both hunters was caked up to my elbows and smeared under my nail beds. Even for a battle-worn warrior, I was a ghastly sight to behold.

I lifted my eyebrows at Marcellus coolly as I snatched the bundle from him. The sand-colored fabric was so soft, it made me ache. Suddenly, my embroidered leggings and wrap top chafed against my skin, worn in at the knees and elbows from constant wear and harsh scrubbing. I held the dress up, measuring. If I tied the waist sashes snugly beneath my wings, it would be a perfect fit.

“You don’t like women covered in a little blood?” I asked, sliding my gaze toward him.

Marcellus raked me up and down, smirking. “On the contrary. Sadly, I can’t afford to govern based on my personal preferences.”

“Tragic,” I simpered.

Fuck , I shouldn’t speak to him so brazenly. We were vastly outnumbered, and I was exhausted—

No—I wasn’t exhausted. Not anymore.

I blinked, briefly glancing at the pendant he’d placed around my neck. The tear-drop sliver of a charged gemstone lay against a gold setting, looking anything but insignificant against my fair skin. The humming of its magic was more pronounced when I focused on it. A beckon, a lullaby—just like the shard Mother had given me.

Marcellus laughed, the sound warm and disarming. He clapped a hand on Roslyn’s shoulder. “See that she has what she needs. I’ll be waiting, Sylvia.”

How strange to hear another fairy speak my name after so many weeks. He strode away, and I waited until I heard the murmur of conversation across the room before stirring from my reverie.

Roslyn led me into a restroom— washroom —and I swallowed a contented sigh, knowing that I wouldn’t require any assistance with something as mundane as turning on a faucet. Nonetheless, Roslyn stood in the center of the room, watching me expectantly. I’d slowly grown accustomed to waiting for privacy for the boys’ sake.

A lax grip on modesty should have been a relief, but Roslyn’s stare was far too searching as I stripped my clothes off. She took my leggings and top, her appeasing gaze lingering on my hips more than once. She smiled, polite enough not to ask about the patchwork of bruises that mottled my thighs and below my ribs nor the iron burn on my shoulder.

“You have a rare beauty,” she said. “My, you’re so breedable.”

I coughed on a laugh, uncertain whether thank you was the appropriate answer.

“Have you ever been with child?” she asked.

Startled, I could only shake my head. Stepping out of her hold, I said, “Out of the question—at least for now. Gem scavenging isn’t a life that can afford nine flightless months—let alone a child to raise.”

“Of course,” Roslyn said, airily and distracted as she set the bundle of my old clothing on the counter. Her eyes fell to my dagger as I undid the holster from my thigh. Gentle concern—perhaps even hurt—pulled on her expression. “I hope you understand that you have no need for such a crude weapon within the walls of our home, Sylvia. ”

My grip tightened on the handle. There was no threat or aggression in her tone, but the implication was clear. My instinct to argue wavered. If I didn’t relinquish my weapon, perhaps my chances of acquiring a gemstone would be in jeopardy. Hesitantly, I set my dagger among the folds of my clothing.

That seemed to set Roslyn at ease. She drew warm water from the large basin against the wall and assisted me in scrubbing away the remnants of blood from my skin. My hair was soft and dried in no time, leaving me with a sense of freshness that no motel room restroom had ever granted me. I slipped into the gifted gown and put up no protest to Roslyn’s offer to fasten the cords that rested below the base of my wings.

While she chattered about the Celestial Feast, I admired the embroidered details along the front of the fabric—an array of constellations that had been adorned with subtle delicate thread. The layered fabric hugged my modest bosom while a slit in the cascading skirt allowed me to move unencumbered. Beautiful and practical.

I couldn’t help but wonder what my father would make of Veloria with its reverence for the stars. I had no doubt he would be proud of me for making it this far, especially given that this village was marked nowhere on the map.

I am a gem scavenger in my own right .

The thought came bundled with sorrow. I wouldn’t know how my father would feel about any of this—not in this life.

While Roslyn busied herself with clearing the basin, my gaze drifted back to my dagger. Before leaving the room, I snatched the sheathed weapon and tucked it into the deep pocket of my gown.

As promised, Marcellus was waiting for me in the main area of the dwelling. I swore his breath caught when he eyed me, but I was distracted as the women hurried to my side to coo over me. In any other situation, I might have been glad to spend leisurely time with them. They were entranced by my presence, suggesting I join them for strolls or chores or the Celestial Feast itself.

I couldn’t help but admire how the Velorian women moved with a kind of effortless elegance, their skin a warm, tawny shade that seemed to glow like polished amber, just like Marcellus’. Their dark hair fell in waves or curls, boasting tones of deep turquoise, cerulean, and seafoam green that caught the light. Next to them, my red hair felt like a flare in the sea.

Many of them had gold runes painted on their eyelids, trailing up to their foreheads in beautiful designs. I had only seen Elsyia’s Elders wear such runes during the winter Solstice feasts, but their paint had been crude compared to the tapered, intricate strokes these fairies had lovingly painted on each other. I was tempted to indulge their insistence that I join them in weaving garlands of lotus petals; their eyes were kind, promising wine and conversation.

Focus .

The gentle heartbeat of the pendant around my neck sent a shiver of alertness through me. And this was a tiny fraction of what I would attain when I found what I came for.

I smiled politely, glancing at Marcellus for help. He appeared faintly amused, perhaps teasing me by waiting a few more moments before stepping in.

“I’m afraid Sylvia has much to see before she settles in for the feast,” he said, taking my arm to lead me away. He kissed Roslyn’s cheek on the way to the door. “Thank you, my dear.”

Before I could offer my thanks as well, we were out the door .

Smiling breathlessly, I pushed my damp hair back, feeling the soft waves slowly spring back to life. “Your people are certainly friendly.”

“You expected a trial? They’re enamored.” He chuckled and gave me a meaningful look. “Naturally.”

My face flushed. I turned away to peer through the archway at the cavern—hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon and Cliff. The path had twisted too much for me to spot them. Concern stirred in my gut as I wondered if I’d really needed to take all that time to clean myself up while they were still essentially captives. Though less than thirty minutes must’ve passed, worry burrowed in my chest. I wanted to check on them, even for a moment.

Unless it’s too late , a sinister voice tickled the back of my mind. Once again, I had to assure myself that this was my own fear—not the Ancients back to collect. Unless your boys are long dead already.

No—no, that couldn’t be. They were killers themselves; they would have fought. I would have heard them shout.

Marcellus took my shoulder, and I eased the furrow from my brow, cementing a passive expression as I faced him.

“Now, gem scavenger,” he said with a roguish grin. “You could sense our stores from afar, but how precise are your instincts?”

I perked up, knowing a challenge when I heard one. He released me and nodded, allowing me to take the lead.

All at once, childhood fantasies came rushing back. I’d spend hours upon hours near the glamour bounds, pretending I was on some great expedition to locate the rarest of gemstones—much to Mother’s chagrin. I dodged guard patrols not because I was breaking any rules, but just to see if I could. I dreamt of the beasts I might outwit, the adventures I would conquer.

The thrill of it drove me forward, searching for the exact direction of the gemstones’ hum. Marcellus followed, neither confirming nor denying whether I was selecting the correct paths, but I knew in my heart that I was right. Stars , I hadn’t truly utilized gem magic, but the exhilaration of the chase was intoxicating. It reminded me of how restless Jon and Cliff became when they were so close to reaching their target—except there were no monster corpses waiting for me at the end of this journey. Only power and freedom.

Fairies looked up at us as we charged through the air—through windows, from balconies, peering up far below from the water’s edge. Seeing so many wings, so much like my own, set me oddly at ease. No one shouted or chased us. Some even smiled curiously, waving.

We were deep in the cavern when I finally paused to gather my thoughts, where dwellings along the walls became scarce and the width of the space narrowed. The idle passing of sirens were left behind us, the rush of crystalline water beneath us too narrow for them to swim. The diamond-like points of bookcases on the jagged ceiling thinned too, making me wonder if perhaps I had misread the pulsing beckon of the gemstones. It looked unfrequented—perhaps forbidden. Had we gone too far?

I felt it in my bones before I saw it—that pull . It felt like invisible ropes looping around my insides, tugging me forward with a weightless sensation in my stomach. Directly ahead of us, shadowed in the low light, my flickering gaze set on an entryway.

Like many of the others, the archway was carved out of the stone itself, but this one was different. The stone was carved like a tangle of vines, opals glinting throughout. After catching Marcellus’ goading smile, I dove toward the curved balcony. A small set of steep, winding stairs led upward. I lifted the trailing edge of my gown as I ascended, taking them two at a time as I neared the top. My lungs burning, I brushed my palm across an opal embedded in the towering pillar.

No. Not these .

A whisper of air beside me—Marcellus stood before the doors and gestured a spell with his hands. Two spells at once, though he didn’t move his lips—and I was watching carefully. A golden orb of light was conjured over his head, while the other spell unlocked the doors with a heavy shink of metal and sent them yawning inward.

“After you,” he said.

He looked so effortlessly powerful as he gestured for me to enter, his warrior rune glinting in the warm light. My stomach flipped, and I hoped my expression was more collected than I felt. All of my training these past months pushing myself to my limits felt like child’s play compared to what this man was clearly capable of.

I was grateful for the conjured illumination as we entered a hallway with lofty ceilings. The path led toward a chamber—the opening ahead wide enough to accommodate over a dozen fairies at once. Statues twice my height lined our path, their faces partially obscured in the bobbing gold light. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the darkness of the chamber—so thick, it seemed to swallow all light. A flicker of fear joined my anticipation. I didn’t need Jon and Cliff to protect me, but I still wished they were here. Just to be with me.

But that pulsing rope around my heart roared.

Come, come, come.

It was with a dizzying kind of certainty that I knew what lay ahead in that darkness. Charged gemstones—more than one.

“How did you do that?” I asked, folding my wings to walk beside Marcellus. My hushed voice caught oddly in the hallway. “You didn’t speak a word. That takes decades of practice.” His amused stare made me suddenly flush, questioning Elysian training yet again. I finished in a smaller voice. “I mean, doesn’t it?”

Marcellus held out his left hand to me. His tanned fingers were dripping with rings, and for the first time, I noted the gems in each—emeralds, rubies, topaz. I let my fingers graze the gilded bands reverently. Only then did I notice faint, silvery scars webbing over his palms and the backs of each finger. When my touch strayed to one of the metallic scars, Marcellus pulled away sharply, setting us back at a brisk pace.

“Each of those—they’re charged ,” I breathed, looking up at him sharply as I matched his stride.

I frowned, realizing the stone around my own neck may have clouded my ability to sense their individual auras. The entire village felt like a fog of powerful, pulsating magic.

Marcellus’ eyes fixed ahead, and he let his hand drop to his side. “I didn’t always live in Veloria,” he said. “I once belonged to a village many weeks’ flight from here. A troubled place—plagued by corruption and predators alike. Warriors were drafted to protect our fragile peace. I didn’t have a choice.

“I was only twenty-five summers when I was forced to defend our home from a rabid wolf. It was sick, but that made it all the more difficult to subdue. In the end, I was separated from my attachment in a cavern for days, without food, my wing torn in half. I thought I would join so many of my peers’ fate.” He paused, giving me a sidelong look. “It was in my darkest moment that I found my first gemstone. My salvation. Deep in the recesses of my prison, there were half a dozen of them, calling out to me. When I answered, everything… clicked. Power not only to heal my wings down to their very fibers, but to reinforce them against the elements. Spells flowered at the very thought of my intention—no guiding incantation required.”

I shuddered at the very concept, aware of the cool, earthy air biting my exposed skin as we walked side by side. “So, not decades,” I said, injecting tentative levity into my voice.

“I spent nearly a dozen years more honing the practice,” Marcellus corrected, adjusting a sapphire ring on his left hand. “Power demands discipline and sacrifice. ”

“I’d say you earned your warrior rune many times over.” I shook my head slightly, frowning. “It’s funny, I grew up hearing a story like that from my father. The usual old gem scavenger myths—I’m sure you’ve heard your fair share. Father loved those larger than life figures like Karolyn the Gilded, Cael Firesong, Edin the Valiant…”

Marcellus’ gait faltered, his eyes cutting over to me. There was a sparkle of humor there I didn’t understand.

“What?” I demanded.

Marcellus coughed, suppressing an undignified laugh. “It’s quite a title, isn’t it? The Valiant? Sounds so pompous. I never cared for it.”

I snorted. “Why would the title of a centuries-old warrior bother you?”

But even as I said it, a strange thought scratched at the back of my mind. My smile fell. Those old stories about gem scavengers turned warriors living for centuries…

Was it possible one was still alive today?

The golden orb of light moved forward, pulling my attention with it. I followed. The hallway yawned open into a chamber so vast that the light couldn’t touch the walls. The orb split and scattered, illuminating the rest of the room. My breath caught as I scanned my surroundings, nearly too overwhelmed to process what I was seeing.

The chamber reminded me of the blood ritual caverns and the old church combined into one. The stone walls glittered with geodes embedded deep within. Symbols and carvings were too numerous for me to note all at once.

“Welcome to the Starforged Sanctum,” Marcellus said, coming to a stop beside me. I felt his eyes on me, watching my reaction.

I forced my gaze to slow, tracing what I could understand. The twelve sacred constellations were the main fixtures on the walls, clusters of geodes tracing the patterns—and each constellation had a gemstone that represented its major star. These were not slivers or even palm-sized chunks—but twelve full, pulsing gemstones that each glowed a different color. Each would have been large enough to cradle in both hands.

My first steps into the Sanctum were tentative, but I soon found myself hurrying to the wall, taking wing to look closer. The gemstones burned brighter as I passed each one, as though they were welcoming me. Upon further inspection, I noted the tiny chunks carved out of them. I was certain I could match the indents to the stones on Marcellus’ rings and the gift hanging around my neck.

The air felt different here, too. Whispers of a breeze made the hem of my dress flutter. “This place isn’t as contained as the rest of the cavern,” I said, squinting up.

“You’re perceptive,” Marcellus said with unguarded admiration. He waved his hand in an arc, summoning another wordless spell with a flex of his fingers.

The tightly woven vines overhead pulled apart to reveal the clear night sky. I braced my hand against the stone wall, mouth agape as I glimpsed many of the same constellations that were honored in the Sanctum.

I didn’t realize I was sinking out of the air until Marcellus was at my side. He guided me down until my feet touched the ground.

“It must be overwhelming,” he said kindly, leading me to one of the many benches that circled throughout the Sanctum.

“An understatement if there ever was one,” I said with a weak laugh.

As I sat, I tore my eyes away from the constellations and gemstones to scan the other carvings on the wall. Some images were so faded, I could barely make them out. But I could see figures with wings and others with fins. A mixture of them were clustered together, surrounded by constellations.

Marcellus followed my gaze. “Prophecies spoken by the stars,” he said in a soft, reverent voice.

I shook my head. “Prophets haven’t spoken for the stars in…” I trailed off and turned to face him fully. The longer I looked, the more I allowed my previously impossible thought to surface. Marcellus didn’t look all that different from the rare illustration I found of Edin the Valiant in Elysia’s archives. Breath catching, I swept my gaze around the constellation stories carved around us. Etched faintly in the dark stone was a solemn profile, a male stern and timeless—the resemblance was vague but unmistakable

Perhaps there were very few things in this world that were actually impossible—I’d just been too sheltered to know it.

I swallowed hard. “ Valiant may be a pompous title, but Edin is said to have sacrificed himself in the rite that charges empty gemstones. My father always told me that charged gemstones became sparse over the years because fewer warriors were brave enough to offer up their lives to ensure their people had access to potent magic.”

Marcellus said nothing for three long breaths. “What would you think of a centuries-old warrior who commanded his underlings to spread a rumor of his sacrifice?” Though his smile was wry, his expression made me suspect he cared very much what I thought.

I broke away from his stare, settling on the ruby that marked the center of The Fox’s Harp . “My father doubted that he would be willing to perform the rite himself. He said there was too much of the world he hadn’t seen enough of yet. So if Edin’s sacrifice turned out to be nothing more than a rumor… I don’t see the use in shaming him for it.”

The chuckle Marcellus breathed was surprisingly humble. Self-conscious. “After a certain number of decades, an unaged face and a new name does wonders. Though, eventually I found no desire to venture far from this place. Not once I gathered others who shared the same vision as I did.”

Though I was firmly seated, his confirmation made the room spin around me.

Him?

The mythical warrior I’d read about in old tomes was real—and he was seated right beside me. I suddenly realized I could smell the salt and metal on his clothes and was struck by what a privilege it was to know something so intimate as his scent.

“You’re centuries old,” I whispered. “Impossible.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, his fierce gaze pinning me. “You have no idea what’s possible.”

I eyed the many rings on his fingers questioningly, once again considering the faint aura of gemstone magic that clung to each one. He closed his hands on his knees, frowning slightly.

“Do you know why so many fairy communities halted their progress?” he asked. “Isolation. Closed-mindedness. They were unwilling to see the possibilities the world held for them. Even gem magic became ostracized in many places.”

I nodded in understanding, my heart pounding. Father had said much the same of Elysia. I remembered his frustration, the arguments with Mother waking me in the middle of the night when Hazel was but an infant. Marcellus wore that same steely look, his eyes glazed with anger.

“No matter the rising odds stacked against us, no matter our dwindling population… Those in power refused to mingle outside of their own kind, certain that no mutual bonds could ever be formed. That no creature besides our own kind could be of use to us.”

“The sirens,” I realized.

His gaze met mine, certain and bold. “Once a moon cycle,” he said. “The population of Veloria gathers here in the Starforged Sanctum, and we drink the sacred gift of our siren brethren. In return, we live in peace together. They are protected within the glamour bounds, safe from rivals and hunters, given plentiful food. That is what the stars intended.”

Sacred gift ?

Then, it connected. Blood . Siren blood was said to have healing properties and prolong one’s life if ingested. And if someone had an infinite supply of blood…

I should have been repulsed, but all I could focus on was the miracle sitting beside me. Edin the Valiant. I was speaking to a living legend, and the defiance of what should have been impossible made my heart flutter. Staring at him, feeling the intense pulse of the gem magic surrounding us, my fantasies felt less impossible, too.

“The gift is not without its drawbacks,” Marcellus swept a look around the vast chamber toward the stars winking overhead. “Not every fairy finds eternity palatable. Some choose the inevitable alternative—though I do everything in my power to prevent this. And… It has been many years since the laughter of children has filled these halls.”

“ Oh .” It was all I could utter as this crashed down on me like a wave. I recalled the faces we had passed on our flight here—only now did it dawn on me that not a single child had been among them. No children steering their hummingbird mounts while they waited impatiently for their wings to become rigid enough to carry them.

What the fuck?

He shot me a placating smile, shifting a little. “Procreation is the only drawback of this gift. I hope you don’t think I’m some suffering bastard now.”

“Of course not,” I said, breaking the tension with a laugh. I chewed my lip, selecting my next words with care. “I suppose there are difficult decisions we must make to survive. ”

I must’ve chosen wisely—thank the stars. Marcellus’ gaze flushed with warmth again.

“Well said,” he granted. “In an unkind world, we must protect the longevity of our kind at any cost.”

Dozens of questions wavered at the tip of my tongue. Questions that would have revealed how fragile my mask of complacency was. Marcellus did not seem like the type who enjoyed having his way of life challenged—and perhaps I wasn’t in any position to poke holes in how someone lived, considering the company I’d kept the last two months.

I cleared my throat and said, “Your camaraderie with the sirens sounds like something out of an unwritten story. A legend to be told in reverent whispers under the stars.”

His expression softened. “It is written in the stars, for those who are willing to find it.” He turned his attention up at the night sky. “I suppose you’re familiar with the stories behind the great constellations?”

“Of course.” I observed his reverent expression as he stared upward. “Is it strange to say it’s a bit surreal to hear that a living legend is so engrossed in the same stories I fawned over?”

“Oh, stories are crucial. Sometimes, they’re the best weapons we have in this life. They may seem like simple lessons for younglings, but the truth is always buried beneath.” He pointed at The Eternal Chalice on the cavern wall. “I’ve always been partial to that one.”

I bit back a laugh. Can’t imagine why .

“It’s about living forever among the stars,” I said. “Allyna the Eternal guided her lover’s soul to the afterlife.”

“A common, though watered-down interpretation.” He drew in a slow breath as though he was drinking in the tale. “Ultimately, it’s about sacrifice. Just as Allyna sacrificed her lover to earn her title, we must also be willing to exchange what we love most for what is right. ”

Another uncertain chill ran through me, but I deflected it once more with a chuckle. “My father never went into the grisly details of that story. Even he thought it was too brutal for my young, innocent ears.”

Marcellus thoughtfully turned his gaze to me. “May I be direct? It’s a bad habit that comes with old age. You speak of your father quite often—no mother, lover, or other can seem to compare. May I ask why?”

“He died nine summers ago.” I looked down at my lap. “I miss him, of course.”

“Nine years, and yet you speak of him as though he’s in the adjoining room.”

My heart fluttered at the silly thought that, with every other impossible thing, why couldn’t that be true, too?

“I suppose it’s hard to let him go,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I think he was like me. Exactly like me, for better or worse.” I hesitated, but now that the floodgates were open, they wouldn’t close. “If he were here, maybe… he’d give me his blessing for all my fucking insane decisions. Maybe I’d have fewer sleepless nights if I had one single fairy who didn’t make me feel like there was something horribly wrong with me.”

I didn’t realize tears were welling up until one trickled down my cheek.

Marcellus cupped my face with one hand, wiping the streak away with his thumb. “Who could ever see something wrong in you ?”

He took my hand and squeezed it, looking at me with intensity that made my stomach flutter. He leaned in, his heat dizzying. This man of legend was here. He was holding me, wanting me—

I shot to my feet. “Thank you for showing me the Sanctum,” I said, my voice cracking.

My head spun with the sudden and dizzying possibility that Marcellus might have kissed me if I’d stayed still. My heart pounded. I didn’t want that, I told myself sternly. Besides, there had to be a line even for him. If he knew how badly I wanted to lay with a hunter someday, he would have been too disgusted to touch me.

“You know why I’ve come to your village.” I wet my lips, summoning my courage. “Tell me plainly—can Veloria stand to part with a gemstone?”

The satin fabric of the sandstone gown lay cool against my body. Suddenly, it felt wrong. I was not like them—I was an imposter infiltrating their home.

For a moment, I worried I’d insulted him with my bluntness. To the contrary, Marcellus leaned back, his posture entirely at ease.

“That depends,” he answered.

“On?”

“What would your intention be with such a powerful reward?” He raised his eyebrows at my look of hesitation. Waiting.

“It’s a gamble for love,” I admitted, each word carefully selected. “And for freedom beyond measure.”

“My favorite sort,” he drawled, and I nearly collapsed in relief when he didn’t demand more detail. He did, however, continue to stare expectantly.

I was so close . I couldn’t fail now.

“I have items of value I could bargain with. I have historic journals from my village—several of them. Surely your people would be grateful for writings from outside Veloria,” I said, trying not to let my urgency creep into my voice. This man was centuries old, and I must’ve sounded like a rambling child to him as I scrambled to think of what else I could offer. “I… You can keep the weapons my hunters surrendered, as well. Precious metals are difficult to come by. ”

I winced internally, thinking of the effort Jon and Cliff had taken to garner those weapons.

They’ll understand , the pendant around my neck hummed. A small sacrifice for such formidable magic.

Marcellus stood, hands raised placatingly as his smile widened. “Enough, please. Don’t you understand that your presence is compensation in and of itself?”

He eyed the gems set across the room, as though considering which would suit best to gift me. My heart sank when he strode for the exit without a single spell to dislodge one. He looked back, beckoning with that faint, knowing slant to his lips.

“Dine with us first. You’re correct that my people are grateful for stories that come from beyond our walls. Fresh company is more valuable than anything scrawled on parchment.”

Biting back impatience, I stole one last look at the gemstones behind me and conceded. As he led me out of the Sanctum, I memorized the path carefully.