Page 22

22

Reyla

B efore we reached the base of the stairs, Lorant slowed. The echo of his steps against the stone held a feeling of finality. He stopped, his face unreadable before the corner of his mouth twitched.

“You’re going to have to walk now, Wildfire.” His voice came out even, but the way it scraped low, almost broken, made a lump rise in my throat. “As much as I want to carry you, I can’t.”

I was as much his wife as Merrick's, and that realization burned through me, leaving only excoriated flesh behind.

This was more than only an “I can't”. A heavier meaning hung in his words, his pain wrapping around each syllable.

I tried to swallow my sadness, but it scraped going down. “I understand.”

He gently lowered me to the floor beside him, holding me when my boots touched the stone. I wobbled from the sudden shift, and his hand lingered on my waist. For one reckless moment, I thought about grabbing onto him, dragging him back up the stairs, and locking the tower door. It would be the two of us. Away from the court. Away from the curse.

But that wouldn’t fix anything. Staying in the safety of the tower would only delay the inevitable. The curse would still come. I’d still lose him.

Lose them both.

Horrifying. That was the only word for it. The thought of their death was an icy claw wrapping around my heart, squeezing tighter every time I allowed myself to breathe. A past without them didn’t hurt at all. A future without them?

There was no life for me where they didn't exist.

My eyelids drooped.

“You're worn out, Wildfire.” A touch of humor came through in his voice, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Time for you to rest.”

And what about you?

His hand left my waist, and he opened the door. If I stayed even a heartbeat longer in the periphery of his warmth, I’d fall apart. There was too much love, too much want whipping around inside me. I’d tried to fight it, to keep it in neat compartments in my mind. Merrick and Lorant, light and dark. Caring but never falling. But there was no fighting this anymore. I’d fallen for them both, and that love now sat heavy on my chest, gouging into my ribs like the sharpest blade.

When we stepped out into the landing, Surren straightened, his gaze shifting from me to Lorant. Lorant’s jaw flexed as he eased past me, his broad shoulders casting a shadow across the doorway.

“Take care with my—” A growl rumbled in his chest. “With my queen at all times.”

Surren stiffened, his nod sharp. Lorant's unreadable gaze lingered on Surren before he strode forward, his movements brisk, as if putting distance between us was his only goal.

“My queen.” Surren gestured to the rest of my guard to take their places in front and behind me.

I walked after Lorant, and when we reached the first hallway, our gazes met, lingering long enough for me to see the unguarded pain in his eyes. So much sadness there. They held an ache that mirrored mine so completely it was like staring down at the severed pieces of my heart.

Three. My heart had broken into three pieces, and Merrick, Lorant, and I each held one.

When we reached my suite, his strong gait carried him down the corridor where he opened the door and strode into Merrick’s room, keeping up the illusion of being the king’s ever-diligent bodyguard.

I entered my sitting area with his tortured gaze still haunting me.

“I won't need you again tonight,” I told my ladies, my voice tight with pain.

Faelith, Moira, and Calista exchanged glances, but they didn't protest. They curtsied in unison and disappeared into the hall, where they'd make their way to their own quarters. My guards took their places outside the room, the familiar metallic clink of their armor the last thing I heard before the door shut, leaving me and Farris alone in the suite.

He bounded toward me, his favorite ball in his mouth, but I didn’t have the strength to throw it tonight.

I stumbled into my room and collapsed onto the bed with my leathers, blades, and boots still on.

The world tipped into blackness.

Sunlight scratched at my consciousness, and I opened my eyes, blinking toward the draped fabric overhead. My eyes burned, but there was no time to linger in bed. The morning’s court sessions would begin soon.

The throne room was alive with its usual orchestrated disarray. Petitioners waited along the edges of the room, some fidgeting with their cloaks, others staring at the dais. Nobles sat on benches on either side of the aisle, their voices carrying across the room.

All stared at me as I entered. Some lifted their eyebrows. Others gossiped behind cupped hands.

I joined Merrick, sitting beside him while supplicants came forward.

“What do you think about this one?” he asked, over and over, seeking my opinion on all the more complicated cases while making decisions himself for the simple ones.

I couldn't stop staring at him, noting how steady his hand was on the arm of his throne, how intensely focused his gaze became when a petitioner walked forward to speak. He was a king who believed in his people, but even more, he wanted them to believe in him.

Separating them wasn’t an option anymore. Merrick and Lorant. Different, yet one. Their faces blurred in my mind when I closed my eyes. With each decision Merrick made, I craved more time to see his light and warmth.

The ruthlessness Lorant wielded wasn’t something less; it was a necessary thing.

Together, they made a whole I couldn’t ignore.

Early-afternoon found me in the kitchen, flour dusting my hands as I stood beside the head chef. Dulvade’s booming laugh echoed as we sifted grains into a bowl. As we ground them and added the fine powder to the mix.

“Horig cakes,” he said in a cheery voice. “Simple, but elegant when done right. Like all good recipes. Honestly, my queen, I've been dying to make these. I’m so glad you’re eager to create them with me.”

I grinned up at him. “I am.”

I folded in the horig, spices, and my secret ingredient as he handed them to me, and leaned over the bowl, sucking in the sweet, grainy aroma. After stirring, we tumbled the blob out onto a floured surface.

“I can’t wait to taste them,” Moira said, her gaze more on the chef than me. I suspected my horig cakes weren't the only things she was eager to taste inside the kitchen. We'd left Calista in my suite to straighten up, and Faelith had taken Farris for a long walk outside. “What makes this recipe so special?”

Dulvade beamed her way, his thick arms working the dough, kneading it over and over. “Patience.”

She glanced between us, her brow furrowed. “That’s not a flavor.”

“No, but I imagine it’s the reason they’re soft enough to melt on the tongue instead of crumbling like regret.” His booming laugh filled the space again, and everyone working around us turned and smiled. Moira blushed and leaned against the opposite side of the counter, appearing ready to swoon.

By the time the cakes had cooled, I’d reminded myself why I was making them. Erisandra’s sharp gaze was haunting me already, and I hoped what I’d bring to tea might sweeten her mood, even slightly.

I hadn’t decided if I’d quiz her about her game in the hall the day before or seeing her enter the woods. Had she led me to the mirror ?

Loaded with a plate of the small, golden cakes, and with Moira left behind to make final arrangements for the tea, I took the stairs to my suite to prepare for the queen mother's arrival, my guard swarming around me.

Calista, Moira, and I had finished setting things up when my door swept open and Erisandra strode inside—without knocking or having her arrival announced.

She peered around with her lips pinching and stopped on the rug in front of the unlit fireplace.

“I still don’t understand why we’re having tea here .” She did her best to look down her nose at me, a feat when you considered she was barely taller than me. “Why not one of the many, much more lovely, parlors?”

“I thought you’d feel at home here.” Ah, there I went, getting in my first dig. I really wasn’t good at this queen stuff, though I vowed to keep trying.

She sniffed but didn’t counter. Perhaps she was saving it for when I let down my guard.

Not happening, Mother .

Two of her ladies remained near the door while the other two minced their way across the room and slid out one of the chairs at the pretty table my ladies and I had spent considerable time arranging. We’d even picked flowers and placed them in a vase. And the tablecloth had come from the closet housing the castle’s best linens.

I could almost taste the tension between Erisandra and me as she lowered herself onto the seat at the table, her skirts pooling around her.

I settled opposite her, saying nothing, waiting for her to make her next move.

She studied the room like she owned it, pointing at and remarking about one object or another. Finally, she tilted her head in that haughty way only she seemed to have mastered, and squinted at me seated across from her at the table.

The rest of her ladies moved to linger with the others near the door, their whispers hissing through the room. Moira and Calista stood on the opposite side of the door, every bit as stiff as Erisandra's staff.

I'd never been one for tiptoeing around people, but with Erisandra, it seemed like the only way to move forward. Bluntness would only sharpen her claws. My approach needed finesse.

“Thank you for joining me,” I said, the statement polite enough.

She sniffed, leaning back in her chair. “I imagined my absence might be interpreted poorly.”

Biting back several replies, I poured tea instead, the clink of porcelain filling the silence. “It means a lot to have you here.”

“Of course it does.” She gave me an oily smile.

Instead of growling, I made my lips curl up on the corners. “I'd love to hear more about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you're Merrick's mother. I adore my husband, and I'd like to adore—” I couldn't make myself say I wanted to adore her . Although, if she was kind or made even a small amount of effort, I might find a way to like her. “Perhaps you'd rather discuss the history of Evergorne Court.”

Her sharp gaze darted to meet mine before it slid away. “History is a luxury few value,” she said coolly. “You might be one of the exceptions, given your lack of upbringing in such matters.”

Lack of upbringing? My chin lifted, a touch of defiance slipping into my voice. “You’ve seen a lot at this court. I was hoping you might share some of this knowledge with me.”

Her fingers lingered on her teacup, caressing the fine handle. “ The past is a cruel beast, Reyla. Few who embrace it come away unharmed.”

“Then you must have been gouged a few times yourself,” I said lightly, watching her closely.

The faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth could’ve been a crack in her armor, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “It’s a queen’s duty to endure such things.”

Her defenses were up; a direct assault would only strengthen them. “I find Merrick incredibly capable. And strong. He must’ve had remarkable role models to become the king he is today.”

Erisandra’s lips tightened, the teacup rattling as she returned it to its saucer. “Merrick adapted. He had to, being crowned at such a young age.” Her spine loosened a barely discernible amount. “He had me guiding him all these years, of course. I'm sure you can see my influence in him even today.”

“I truly can.” Being fae still wasn’t stopping me from spilling lies. “You must have had strong support by your side to raise such a remarkable heir, especially after the tragic?—”

“That’s enough flattery,” she cut in, her tone flat. “I assume you’re referring to his father. Yes, he was a strong man.” She always spoke of the king with detachment, the same way I’d speak of an uncle I’d never met.

“And the high advisor?”

Her fingers froze mid-reach for a horig cake before she took one and delicately placed it on her etched plate. “What of him?”

“I’ve heard he was instrumental in Evergorne’s politics back then.”

“For a time. He fled the court on the day my husband died.”

My heart cratered for Merrick's father. He hadn't fled; he died along with the king.

Just like Lorant would die with Merrick.

When she finally spoke again, her voice came out frayed at the edges. “He abandoned me— us —when we needed him most.” She stared down at her cake.

“His loss must've been tremendous, especially right after the king’s death.”

“A man of such importance leaves a void when he vanishes. And vanish, he did.” Her words hung in the air. Her chin tilted higher, and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the table.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, truly meaning it. “That must’ve been difficult for you. I'm sure you were relying on him to step in and give guidance to you, a young widow with a child. Truly tragic.”

“It was nothing.” She flounced back in her chair, linking her arms across her chest. “People come. People leave. Isn’t that the usual in life?”

“Not in this court.”

Erisandra's gaze darted to the right and then to the left.

“Are you looking for something?” I asked, though her answer didn't matter.

Her eyes snapped to mine, narrowed. “What makes you ask that?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” I picked up my tea and took a careful sip. “I wondered if something had caught your attention.”

“What could possibly catch my attention in this quaint room, Reyla? I don’t like how you’ve furnished it.”

Not Queen Reyla. Always calling me by my first name as if she still commanded my title.

My fingers tightened on the handle of my cup as I debated. Did I ask her outright about the book I couldn’t find after her visit? The mirror. The way she loved to manipulate objects in an attempt to manipulate me.

She took delight in toying with me, but I suspected she’d deny being involved if I pressed her. Accusing her now would only widen the distance between us.

Instead, I chose a different angle. “Your skill is glamour crafting, isn't it?”

Her lips twisted into a small, coy smile. “Glamour is a useful tool.”

I was about to find a way to subtly probe her about her magical abilities when the door opened, and Farris bounded inside. He galloped across the room but instead of coming to me, he slammed into Erisandra’s thigh. He backed away, a growl roaring up his throat. Spinning, he fled across the room, the ball still in his mouth. He raced back and forth before sidling over to me and dropping the ball on my lap. With a snarl, he advanced on Erisandra again, his fur bristling across his spine and his lips peeled back.

“This is atrocious.” Erisandra reeled toward the window to avoid him. “Get that… thing away from me! Does it have to be inside? Leave it in the aerie or something. Better yet, destroy it. It’s clearly vicious. It’s going to bite someone.”

“I’ll take care of Farris,” I said as graciously as I could. After placing the ball on the table and rising, I wrapped my fingers around his collar and urged him across the sitting area and into my bedroom, closing the door after.

He growled and flung himself against the inside of the panel.

Erisandra stood, her chair rocking backward before righting itself. “I’m finished here.”

“You haven’t even tasted the horig cakes I made in your honor.”

She glared at the plate holding my gorgeous, golden cakes. “Why in the world would you physically prepare food?”

“Because it’s fun. This is my special recipe. ”

“I’m not interested.” With that, she stalked across the sitting area.

Her ladies scurried to the panel, swinging it wide for her to sweep through, into the hall.

My bedroom door jerked open, and Farris scrambled into the room, his claws digging into the floor as he bolted toward the hall, snapping and snarling. Erisandra’s ladies flung themselves backward, slamming into the wall. He hurtled into the corridor, skidding sideways as he took off after the queen mother.

I gave chase, worried more about my nyxin than her. I caught up with them halfway down the hall. Erisandra stood with her back against the wall, her hands over her head.

She held Farris’s ball.

That’s when it hit me.

Finally, Lorant might say in that snide tone that used to irk me. Now it made me smile. Quite ferally, actually.

Stalking over to her, I snatched the ball from her grasp. “While it’s sweet of you to offer to toss the ball for my dear pet, I’ll do it instead.”

“No, no.” She leaped toward me, but if nothing else, my training made me fast. Pulling a blade, I backed, slashing it through the air between us.

She cried out and stumbled into the wall.

My grin widened.

“Careful,” I said. “I’m a little touchy when it comes to my and Farris’s things.” With that, I thrust the blade back into its sheath and stomped back into my suite with him trotting by my side, wearing a cute little nyxin grin.

“Go,” I told Erisandra’s ladies who still cowered by the wall.

They raced out the door in a flurry of skirts and high-pitched cries, and I slammed the panel closed behind them.

“Well, well, well.” I stared at the ball lying on my outstretched palm while Farris sat in front of me, making no effort to urge me to throw it.

A ball?

Perchance not.

Farris had been trying to expose something glamoured. A diary, to be exact.

I tightened my fingers around the ball and strode over to the table, where I lifted a horig cake from the plate and tossed it to my nyxin, who caught it and gobbled it up. I selected another for myself and popped the entire thing into my mouth, chewing with sly satisfaction.

“Farris, my fine fellow?” I said around the tasty treat. “I believe it’s time for me to figure out nullification spells.”