Page 2 of Lady of Starfire (Lady of Darkness #5)

Sorin

W hen Sorin Aditya woke he knew without opening his eyes that she was not in his bed, but he stretched a hand out anyway, feeling the cold space where his wife should have been.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping since he’d given her the last of his fire.

Far longer than what used to be required of him, that he was sure of.

He hadn’t felt her get out of the bed. He hadn’t heard her slip from their bedchamber in the castle in Avonleya. His senses were as muted as they had been when he’d been in the mortal lands for three years.

He also had no way of finding her.

He could not feel her.

He could not speak to her down a bond they had once shared.

He cracked his eyes open, lifting his arm to stare at his left hand. The black Mark that had once swirled around the back of his hand and down his fingers was gone, not a trace of it left.

In fact, all of his Marks were gone. Every last one.

A mortal could not bear Fae Marks.

A mortal could not be a Source.

A mortal did not have enhanced sight or smell or hearing.

He sighed, throwing back the wool blankets and setting his feet on the ornate rug.

Resting his elbows on his knees, his head fell into his hands, and his fingers dug into his ebony hair.

He didn’t know where Scarlett was, but a part of him was glad she was not here to see him like this.

He had made sure the last thing she had felt from him was love and warmth and everything she was to him.

He had kept himself together so she could fall apart.

Wiping her tears away, he had been the strength she needed him to be.

He couldn’t be her Source anymore, but he could be that for her.

This felt as though he were back in the mortal lands before she had taken the wards down that prevented beings from accessing their magic.

At least when he had been stuck there he had known his power was asleep just beneath the surface.

He had known that the moment he stepped over the border into the Fire Court, his flames would be at his fingertips.

He would never hold fire in his palm again.

That reality was driven home when a breeze came through the open window and goosebumps erupted across his skin. They were on the brink of summer, and he was fucking cold .

Muttering a curse, he stood and made his way to the large dressing room.

Surveying his options, he swiped a hand down his face.

He still wore the loose pants he’d worn to bed, but he needed something warmer than the short-sleeve options for his upper half.

The only long-sleeved items he owned were ornate jackets for special occasions.

He had brought a few of them from the Fire Court.

He never wore long-sleeve tunics. With fire in his veins, he didn’t need them.

He was always warm. Borrowing something from Briar or Sawyer was his next best option, he supposed.

He lifted a hand to send the Water Court Second a message before remembering he couldn’t do that either.

He cursed again, swiping a hand across the top of the dresser, knocking everything atop it to the ground.

Random weapons thudded as they landed on the floor.

Smaller items clanged when they hit the opposite wall, rolling beneath clothing and shoes.

He braced his hands on the dresser, his head hanging down as he tried to get control of himself.

This was worth it. An adjustment period was to be expected, but giving up his magic was a cost he would pay over and over again if it meant being able to stay with Scarlett.

But how did one learn to live without a piece of themselves? How did one get used to a life without something that had been a part of them since they had entered this world?

Taking a deep breath, Sorin pushed off the dresser and padded barefoot through the princess’s suite. He made his way down the halls until he came to Briar’s rooms. The prince wasn’t here, having gone to trade himself for Princess Ashtine, but he hadn’t taken the time to pack his belongings either.

Sorin found a long-sleeved tunic hanging in the Water Prince’s dressing room, and he pulled the dark blue garment on as he made his way back to his rooms. He’d have to go into Aimonway today and get some warmer clothing.

Even with the heavier fabric of the tunic he’d found, he was still chilled.

He glanced down at his bare feet. Socks would probably help.

At least then he wouldn’t feel the cold marble beneath his feet.

When he got back to his rooms, he put some logs in the hearth and got a fire going.

It was a feat that took far longer than it should have, but it had been over a year since he’d had to do so without his fire magic.

When the logs were finally crackling steadily, he stood, holding his hands above the flickering flames and letting them warm his palms. This was worse than the mortal lands.

At least there, his fire had still been in his veins. Now he was just …empty. Void and cold.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, casting a glance out the windows.

The sun was high in the sky. It had to be close to midday by now.

Which was fine. The Avonleyans preferred the night.

Their daily schedule started mid-morning rather than at sunrise.

Many of the shops Sorin needed to visit wouldn’t be open until this afternoon, but by the gods, he’d slept over half a day.

And where the hell was Scarlett?

He changed into proper pants, slipping on his boots and buckling a few weapons into place. He was making his way out to the main sitting area to look for his wife and possibly find some food when a knock came at the door. Pulling it open, he found Cethin Sutara on the other side.

The King of Avonleya looked like he had been up all night and morning.

He had clearly been running his hands through his shoulder-length silver hair repeatedly, and his black tunic and pants were wrinkled.

Sorin was fairly certain they were the same clothing he’d been wearing yesterday, but the look on his face told him everything he needed to know.

“What did she do?” Sorin said with a sigh.

“May I come in?” Cethin asked instead, a hand going through his hair again.

“Where are Kailia and Razik?”

“Razik is with Eliza, and Kailia has her own matters to tend to,” Cethin answered, his voice strained with an emotion Sorin wasn’t quite sure what to do with. He was used to Scarlett’s antics. Her brother clearly was not.

He tensed a little at the mention of Razik being with Eliza.

He still hadn’t decided how he felt about Eliza being Razik’s Source.

Not that there was anything he could do about it now.

Once that Mark was given, there was no undoing it.

What that meant for her and Razik, he didn’t know.

They could never be separated. Not if Razik wanted to be able to refill his magic reserves faster than letting them refill naturally.

But he was Cethin’s Hand-to-the-King, not to mention his Guardian, and Eliza was now the most powerful Fire Fae.

If she wanted, she could claim the royal seat of the Fire Court and rule.

She wouldn’t, of course. The general had no desire to rule, but if someone else tried to take it and her hand was forced …

Sorin sighed again, stepping aside to let Cethin in.

He had a thousand things to be worrying about.

The situation between Eliza and Razik was just one of them.

He was used to juggling multiple responsibilities, solving problems, and taking care of those entrusted to him.

The stress of doing so was nothing new to him, but he had never been good about dealing with his own issues.

There was a reason he would find himself in the chateau every once in a while to get away from it all and have a good night with a bottle of liquor.

He hadn’t needed to do that since Scarlett though.

Sorin moved back in front of the hearth, getting as close to the heat as he dared.

Cethin was standing near the sofa. He seemed to be debating whether or not he should sit.

The king ultimately decided against it, instead getting into a stance that made him look like he was preparing for a fight.

His feet were planted a little apart, his shoulders thrown back and arms loose at his sides.

“I assure you, I know her better than you do, Cethin,” Sorin finally said, folding his arms across his chest. “Whatever you are about to tell me will not surprise me. She is known to be rather dramatic at times.”

Cethin pushed out a harsh breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “She sent me a message in the night. To meet her in one of the dens. She was there. Playing the piano.”

Sorin nodded slowly. “She does that when she is processing emotions. Last night was difficult for us.”

“She told me. That she had taken the last of your power from you. That the cost of bringing you back from the After had been completed,” Cethin went on. His hands raked through his hair again. “Then she told me she refused to accept this fate.”

“If anyone will find a way to defy the Fates, it will be her,” Sorin replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Is she in the library? Searching through ancient tombs? Did she find old forgotten catacombs she has fallen asleep in?”

Cethin blinked at him, slowly shaking his head. “I do not know where she is. Kailia has been searching during her hunts, but she has seen no sign of her.”

Sorin’s arms dropped to his sides. “What exactly are you saying, Cethin? That you let my wife disappear?”

“She … Fuck. I do not know how she did it. She created a Mark and stepped into a pool of darkness. She hasn’t come back yet. We cannot create Marks, Sorin. Not blood Marks like that. She should not have been able to do that.”