Page 34 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Thirty-Four

Aurelia

T he air around the donation center was thick with magic, but not the kind that had filled the streets of Rosewood with life. No, this was different—stifling, suffocating, like it was draining the very breath from the fae who passed by. The constant buzzing of whatever siphoning magic they used inside grated on my ears and made it impossible to stop imagining how it might work. Not that I ever wanted to find out for myself.

Rydian was silent and stiff beside me, hovering close as if he thought I might defy his order to remain out of sight. Part of me wanted to try if only to feel his hands on me again. But he’d been acting weird since our conversation in Callan’s study. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d disappointed him with my comment earlier. And I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how.

He’d been angry about the bargain I’d made. And still, he hadn’t hurt me. Somehow, I knew he never would. And that made his touch all the more dangerous. Especially out here where anyone might see.

Not many pedestrians ventured by us, though. The location on the outskirts of the city meant it wasn’t exactly on the way to much else. But I had a feeling most avoided it out of principle. It could’ve been smack in the city center, and the Autumn fae would have taken the long way around it.

I didn’t blame them.

The building loomed ahead, a cold, squat thing that seemed more like a prison than a government building. The fae coming out shuffled like shadows of themselves, shoulders sagging, eyes glazed over. On the right, a line wound out of the main entrance and down the sidewalk where those waiting to make their donation huddled. They looked worn down already—as if they’d accepted their fate, and that acceptance alone had drained them of something vital even before they’d passed through the doors.

I’d thought I needed to see it for myself, to understand what Callan’s kingdom had become. But all it did was break my heart in two.

“They’re walking to their deaths,” I said.

Rydian didn’t respond, but I felt his gaze on me—the displeasure of it thrummed right alongside the magic in the air. He was upset, but I had no idea why.

A fae woman stumbled out the front doors, her skin ashen, her eyes glazed and empty. The sight of it hit me like a punch to the chest, and I barely suppressed a gasp.

This fate felt so much worse than the one my own family had been cursed with. Guilt tugged at me, raw and sharp-edged as I thought about this horror happening just across Summer’s borders. All the while, I’d been crying over the Summer fae’s perpetual sleep.

This was on me.

Callan and Duron might’ve enforced this atrocity, but I was the one the prophecy had been written for. I was the one who had the power to stop the monster who’d cursed us all. Instead, I’d thought only of my own people’s fate while the rest of the realm suffered their own nightmare.

“Aurelia.” Rydian’s voice was gentler than I’d ever heard it. But I didn’t want to be coddled.

I clenched my fists. “This is monstrous.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t agree. He didn’t need to. His silence was enough, his presence beside me an echo of my own outrage.

I watched as another fae, this one barely older than sixteen, exited the building. His eyes were dim, his shoulders sagging. No one even glanced at him as he ducked his head and hurried down the street.

I turned to Rydian, the rage building inside me. “How long has it been like this?”

“Long enough,” he said, his voice flat. He didn’t look at me, his eyes fixed ahead, jaw clenched tight.

I shook my head, disgust curling in my stomach. “You all just… let this happen?”

His gaze snapped to mine. His temper sliced through me, cutting so deeply I winced away. “You’ve spent the last seven years with your head buried in the sand while the rest of us suffered. You have no idea what I let happen, nor do you have any right to judge me for it.”

I blinked, shocked at the vehemence behind his words and convicted by the truth in them. I’d been na?ve—and stupid—to think my suffering was worse than anyone else’s.

Rydian was right that day in the Broadlands.

I’d been hiding.

Shame burned inside me.

But I wasn’t going to hide anymore. I owed it to these fae to fight with everything I had.

“It has to stop,” I said. “We have to stop it.”

I made it one step out of the alcove before Rydian grabbed me .

Our eyes met. His own darkened as he studied me.

“Let go of me,” I said.

He let out a breath, but it wasn’t acquiescence—it was something bitter, almost mocking. “So you can do what exactly?” His voice dripped with skepticism, and something else—resentment? “Walk in and burn the place to the ground? That should go well.”

“I’ll find a way,” I snapped harsher than I’d meant to, but I couldn’t stop the fire burning inside me. Mostly over the fact that he’d guessed my reckless plan so easily. “These people are being drained of their magic, their lives?—”

“And you’re going to what? Ask them to refuse? To fight?” His voice cut through my racing thoughts. “This is the only way some of them survive. The contributions they make here keep their families safe. You would ask them to risk that safety while you sit, warm and kept, inside that castle?”

I flinched at the bite in his words, but I didn’t back down. “We’re supposed to protect them, not?—”

“They don’t need your protection,” he said, his gaze dark and unreadable. “They need someone who understands how this world works.”

“And you think I don’t understand?” I took a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest. He was standing too close, the space between us charged, but it wasn’t just with the tension of an argument. No, it was something more, something that made the air feel too thin, made me feel like I couldn’t breathe.

Rydian’s eyes flashed, his expression hardening. “I think you have no idea what kind of danger you’re playing with.”

“I’m not playing. I’m trying to help?—”

“No,” he cut me off, his voice low and angry. “You’re trying to feel better about yourself. But you made your choice.”

His words stung more than I wanted to admit, but it was the look in his eyes that hurt the most. Where he’d been open before, now there was only a wall. And that infernal mask. I’d told myself it was an act, one I was learning to see through, but in this moment, I couldn’t as much as glimpse the male who’d sworn to destroy anything that touched me.

I shook my head. “Why do you care so much about my choices, anyway?” I asked, my voice trembling with the need to hear him say it.

His jaw clenched again. He glanced to the line of fae ahead of us then back to me. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer, might finally tell me what it was he really felt about me. But then, just as quickly, he shut down.

“You don’t belong here,” he said, stepping back, his voice colder than ever.

I felt the sting of his words deep in my chest, but I refused to let him see it. “Maybe not. But I’m here now, and I’m not going to stand by and watch these people suffer.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and in his eyes, I saw the war he was fighting within himself. He didn’t think I could change anything. And yet, there was something in the way he looked at me, something that made me think maybe—just maybe—he wished I would try.