Page 40 of Kingdom of Briars and Roses (Cursed Fae Courts #1)

Chapter Forty

Aurelia

T he moment the door slammed behind Callan, I went to the armoire and dug past the gowns Callan had bought for me until I found the bag I’d brought from home. Shoving it open, I inhaled the familiar scent of Aine leathers and felt something inside my chest unfurl. Sonoma might have been a formidable fighter, but she’d been wrong about one thing: I didn’t need Callan’s help to destroy Heliconia. The oracle had spoken true. I had always only been looking for myself. And as horrible as it’d been since coming here, I’d found her.

Shucking my dress off, I pulled on the warrior’s clothing that I’d mistakenly thought had no place in my new life. I worked quickly, braiding my hair and strapping Dorcha and Latha, my swords, to my back. Finally, I pocketed the gold and jewels I’d taken from Sunspire. It felt all too familiar now, this hasty departure. I’d have to abandon my other plans. But I couldn’t be here any longer. I’d have to find a way to help Autumn’s citizens from the outside.

Crossing the room, I felt for the doorway to the passage I’d come through earlier. It was more difficult to access from this side, the seam hidden and the latch stubborn. My shaking fingers finally found it, though, and the panel slid open with a soft click.

Darkness yawned before me, cool air rushing out like a whisper of warning. The torch I’d left earlier was gone, which reminded me I wasn’t the only one using this passage. But I had to risk it.

Staying would be a death sentence.

If not for me then for Callan. And if I slipped and used my magic on him again, I might not be in a position to escape the consequences.

Pulling my hood up, I stepped into the narrow passage. The stone walls pressed in close, and the only light came from the faint glow of a torch burning from a sconce farther up the path.

I forced myself to move, every step echoing in the silence as I descended deeper and deeper into the bowels of Grey Oak.

Focus.

But my mind wouldn’t quiet. Callan’s threats, Duron’s betrayal, the prophecy—they all swirled like a storm in my head. My skin prickled with fear, my magic coiling inside me, restless and wild. What if they came after me? What if Callan had already told Duron I’d escaped? What if guards were waiting for me at the other end?

And beneath it all, I thought of Rydian.

Despite everything, I fought the urge to find him first. To make sure Duron hadn’t hurt him like he’d done to Callan.

Stupid , I told myself. He doesn’t need you.

I kept going.

My footsteps were soft but swift as I navigated the narrow twists and turns. Just like before, the passage descended lower and lower until I felt like I was being swallowed by the earth itself. My pulse roared in my ears, louder than the quiet shuffle of my cloak brushing the walls.

Suddenly, a noise echoed from up ahead. I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs. Voices?

Gods, no.

I pressed myself flat against the wall, holding my breath as the distant murmur of voices—servants, from the sound of it—drifted through the passage, barely audible but unmistakable. They were close. Too close. My fingers clenched into fists, the familiar tug of magic pulling at the edges of my mind, begging to be released.

I forced the magic back down, clenching my jaw as I waited. Seconds stretched into an eternity, the cold stone biting into my back as I stayed perfectly still. My breathing was shallow, quiet, but each exhale felt like it echoed off the walls.

Finally, the voices faded, drifting away into the distance.

Slowly, carefully, I started moving again. Every step felt like a gamble. Every moment, I expected to hear the clang of swords being drawn, the rush of footsteps coming for me.

But they didn’t. And after what felt like forever, I found myself at the end of the passageway where Vanya and I had come through earlier. From here, I’d have to get to the exit using the main halls. My chest tightened at the thought of who else might be out there.

I listened intently before easing open the portrait. The door swung out, and I slipped through before gently clicking it back into place. Then, I waited, straining to listen.

Silence.

I crept around the furniture draped in cloth, careful not to disturb the dust. At the doorway to the storage room, I paused again.

Footsteps sounded faintly until they disappeared.

I didn’t let myself second-guess it before slipping into the hall. With my hood pulled low, I strode confidently toward the back door. If anyone stopped me, all I had was royal arrogance. The absolute belief that I was allowed to go where I pleased .

I prayed to the Fates it wouldn’t come to that.

The grand doors that led out of the castle were just ahead, and it took all I had not to break into a run before I reached them.

Even when I shoved them open and stepped outside, I braced for a guard to demand to know what I was doing. But the exit was empty. Overhead, a sliver of moonlight filtered through the clouds—just enough to see the path that led past the stables to the hillside Rydian and I had visited earlier—but mostly, the night was wreathed in shadows.

The Fates were smiling on me.

I didn’t bother with a horse, despite wishing I could bring Shadow. Risking the stables would only get me caught. Maybe I could come back for him one day.

I kept moving, and when I got to the hillside, I nearly lost my footing, thanks to my harried pace. Every snap of a branch, every rustle of leaves felt like a threat. But I forced myself to slow, picking my way carefully down the rocky slope.

The trickle of the stream reached my ears.

Almost there.

At the bottom, I grabbed handfuls of my cloak, lifting it, and ran, my feet flying over the uneven ground, my heart thundering in my chest.

My legs burned as I pushed forward, stumbling over roots and rocks, my breath coming in short gasps. The cold bit at my cheeks, but I kept running, faster, harder. The river was close—I could hear it now, the water growing louder with each step. If I could just get across it and to the forest on the other side, I would be free.

Just a little farther. Just a little ? —

Suddenly, a figure loomed out of the darkness, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me to a stop. I gasped, instinctively reaching for the magic that simmered beneath my skin, ready to unleash it on whoever dared to? —

“Hello, Furious.”

One look at Rydian’s expression and my hopes of escape came crashing down around me.

He stood between me and the river, blocking the way. His arms were crossed, his body taking up too much space even out here in the wide open. The light of the moon slashed across him, making him look more like a predator than a soldier.

I froze.

“Going somewhere?” His voice was low, calm. But the look in his eyes wasn’t.

My pulse spiked, but I kept my expression neutral. If he was going to stop me, I wasn’t going to make it easy. “Move,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m leaving.”

“You need to go back inside.”

I clenched my fists. Magic built inside me, pushing against my skin, ready to explode if I let it. “You don’t know anything about what I need.”

He didn’t flinch. He just stood there, watching me like he always did, like he was waiting for something. “You leave now, you’re as good as dead. Do you really think there aren’t more Obsidians out there waiting for us to let our guard down?”

“I can take care of myself,” I snapped, stepping closer.

“And where do you intend to go?”

“The coast,” I said, daring him to argue with my plan. “Even the Rada aren’t as bad as this place.”

His eyes darkened at that, but he didn’t move out of my way. “You won’t make it halfway. You know what’s out there. What’s waiting.”

I took another step forward, close enough now to see the tension in his jaw, the tightness around his mouth. And the swollen bottom lip. Duron had gotten him too. “What’s waiting out there is better than marrying your precious brother and being drained of my power until I’m one of the Withered.”

The mention of Callan had rage flashing in his eyes, though I had no idea if it was meant for Callan or me. He shook his head, his expression hardening. “I told you, Furious. The next person who puts his hands on you dies. Or did you forget that part?”

I bit my lip, deciding to spare Callan’s life by not mentioning the way my ex -fiancé had grabbed me earlier. Not to mention the kiss.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” His voice had gone low and full of violence.

Nope. Definitely not telling him. “I refuse to be a pawn—in the coming war or in your sibling rivalries. Now move.”

For a split second, I thought he might. But then his eyes locked on mine, steady and unwavering. “I can’t let you do that.”

The words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I’d thought— hoped —he might help me, that whatever strange connection we had might be enough to make him let me go. But no. He was still Duron’s soldier—Callan had been right about that after all.

“I’m not your property,” I said, feeling the magic flare hotter inside me, begging to be released. “You don’t get to decide what I do.”

“You think this is about me controlling you?” His voice sharpened, something cold slipping through his calm. “I’m trying to keep you alive. You leave now, and you won’t make it a day.”

The frustration, the fear, the pressure that had been building for weeks—months, years—all crashed into me at once, and I let the magic loose.

It burst out of me in a violent pulse, sending a wave of black flame surging toward him.

He grunted, stumbling back as it hit him. But he didn’t fall. Or burn. He barely even flinched.

“Aurelia, stop,” he warned, his voice tight.

The sound of my name on his lips shuddered through me.

I had no idea how he’d withstood what I’d just thrown at him, but my rage and desperation made it impossible to care. I gathered more magic, feeling it burn in my chest as I pushed it outward again, harder this time. Instead of flame, raw power burst from inside me.

The ground shuddered as the force slammed into him.

Rydian held his ground, growling as he braced himself against the impact. He was stronger than I’d realized—too strong. Before I could summon another burst, he moved, closing the distance between us in an instant. His hand wrapped around my waist, his grip firm and unyielding as he dragged me against him.

There was no malice behind the move.

It was the opposite.

In his eyes burned a flame that lit my core.

Then, with his other hand, he cupped my throat. His thumb brushed over my tattoo, and though his grip was firm, it wasn’t painful. Being held like this, by him, was intoxicating.

My magic sputtered, fizzling out as his fingers tightened around me, sending a shockwave through my body that had nothing to do with power. I struggled against him, waiting for the moment when he’d tighten his grip and choke the air from my lungs. But instead of hurting me, he brushed his mouth over my throat, inhaling deeply.

I shuddered, hating myself for it.

“Let me go,” I hissed, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t. His body was too close, too warm, and I hated the way I could feel his strength—hated the way my heart reacted, pounding harder in my chest for reasons that had nothing to do with fear .

When he kissed me, I didn’t fight it.

I melted instantly.

His mouth was greedy and hot, his tongue demanding—claiming. I whimpered, ready to beg for more if that was what it took.

But he pulled away, refusing to give me what I wanted.

“I’m not your enemy,” he said. “But I can’t let you leave.”

I shoved at his chest, but it was like trying to move a stone wall. “You can’t keep me here.”

His grip loosened a fraction, but not enough to let me go. His voice was quieter now, softer. “I only want to keep you safe.”

“ Safe ?” I spat, glaring up at him. “From what? Being used by your brother like some kind of hunting trophy? Or from your father draining me until I’m dead?”

He went still, his expression hardening. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “But I can’t let you go.”

“You knew,” I realized. “You knew all along what Duron was after. What he wanted me for.”

When he answered, his voice was ragged. “Yes.”

I sagged against him. Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I swallowed them. I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered, utterly defeated.

His grip on me loosened, but he didn’t let me pull away. His eyes held mine, filled with some emotion far more absolute than anything I’d been expecting.

“I could never hate you,” he said softly, like a promise.

But it didn’t feel like a promise. It felt like a lie.