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8

ADELLUM

I am stunned when Lilleth's lips meet mine. It's so sudden, so unlike the friendly but platonic banter we've been sharing as I fulfill my obligation. She's nothing like Harmony, and I keep finding myself comparing them.

Like right now. With Harmony, I want to pull her closer and memorize every inch of her skin. With Lilleth, I'm disgusted. And that's what whips me out of my shock.

I jerk back as if struck, my wings snapping outward in reflex. The impact knocks over one of the garden statues, sending it crashing to the flagstones with a satisfying crack that matches the fury burning through my blood. My hands find Lilleth's shoulders, shoving her away harder than I'd meant to, but the revulsion crawling across my skin demands distance.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The words scrape from my throat, sand-rough and dangerous.

Lilleth's perfect silver flight feathers quiver as she stumbles back. Her composure fractures for just a moment before that aristocratic training reasserts itself. She smooths hands down her impeccable silk robes, those polished fingers trembling slightly.

"I—I thought... Sior said you were..." Her voice falters, a crimson flush spreading beneath her high xaphan cheekbones. "He told me you were available. Interested."

Of course he did. I drag a hand through my hair, feeling it stick up at wild angles around my temples. The persistent urge to wipe my mouth overwhelms me, but I resist. Barely.

"Well, I'm not." The words come out clipped, brutal in their finality.

"I misunderstood," Lilleth murmurs, her posture straightening with wounded dignity. Those silver wings—her claim to status, her family's pride—fold tightly against her back. "I apologize for the... misunderstanding."

I should leave it there. Should bow, should offer her amerinth, should salvage what's left of this disaster before Sior hears how I've humiliated the relative of the Third Praexa. But my skin still crawls with the ghost of her touch, my mind fixated on the only pair of lips that belong against mine.

"I think you should go," I say, struggling to moderate my tone into something resembling politeness. "This meeting is over."

Lilleth's composure slips again, her dark eyes widening. "Just like that? Sior arranged?—"

"I don't give a damn what Sior arranged." My wings flare again, uncontrollable in my agitation, knocking a ceramic pot off its pedestal. "He doesn't own me, doesn't decide who I..."

The words die as something cold slithers through my chest. Doesn't he, though? Hasn't he always? I've let him control my life, helped me find a way to salvage it after everything happened.

Lilleth studies me with new interest, her head tilting. "There's someone else."

It's not a question. I don't answer. I don't care to deny it when I'm aching for Harmony right now.

"Does Sior know?" she asks, voice gentler now, almost sympathetic.

My silence is answer enough.

"The great Adellum Vey," she says, gathering her dignity around her like a cloak, "turn down a binding with pure silver bloodlines for what? Some secret affair?" A hint of venom creeps into her tone. "How... disappointing."

"Get out." The words emerge too soft, too dangerous.

She goes, gliding across my garden with perfect poise, though her wings betray her agitation in tiny tremors along their silver edges.

I wait until she's gone before I scrub viciously at my mouth with the back of my hand. The crawling disgust of another's unwanted touch makes me want to shed my skin. I need to see Harmony. Need to wash away this feeling with her laugh, her touch, her warm hazel eyes that never look at me like I'm a prize to be claimed.

I pace the garden, my wings twitching with restless energy. Where is she? She should have arrived by now, slipping through the servants' entrance like always, bringing me some small gift from her garden and that smile that makes my chest ache.

My hand finds the small pendant in my pocket—a crystal geode I've been saving, meant to be set in silver for her birthday next month. The rough edges bite into my palm as I squeeze it, grounding myself.

I couldn't bind with Lilleth if they offered me all of New Solas. The thought of anyone's hands but Harmony's, anyone's voice but hers filling my nights—it makes something vicious and protective rear up inside me.

"Fuck Sior and his connections," I mutter to the silent garden. "Fuck the Third Praexa and silver bloodlines and all of it."

I stretch my wings to their full span, feeling the tension in the muscles. Somehow I've gone from being the troubled artist genius to Sior's puppet, dancing for the nobility. But not anymore. Not with this. Some things even I won't sacrifice.

I stalk into my house, dark energy crackling around me like storm clouds. My wings won't settle, knocking into vases and candle stands, sending them crashing to the floor. I don't give a damn. The priceless artifacts Sior insisted would "elevate my status" mean nothing compared to the rage bubbling through my veins.

He's in my study when I find him, lounging in my chair like he owns it, sifting through my papers. Always his hands in my life, arranging, manipulating.

"Ah, there you are." His thin lips curl into a smile that doesn't reach those calculating dark eyes. "How was your meeting with Lilleth? The Third Praexa will be pleased to?—"

"You told her I was interested." My voice sounds like someone else's—a low, dangerous rumble that makes the candle flames shiver. "You told her to kiss me."

Sior blinks, affecting surprise as he sets down my contracts. "I did nothing of the sort, Adellum. The girl simply found you attractive. Most do, after all, that's why we've built your entire reputation on?—"

"Don't lie to me." My fist crashes down on the desk between us, splitting the wood with a satisfying crack. "She said you arranged it. Said you told her I was available."

His composure wavers for just a moment—a flicker of irritation crossing his face before the mask returns. But I catch the smirk tucked into the corner of his mouth, the glint of satisfaction. He planned this. Of course he did.

"Perhaps I encouraged her a bit," he admits, adjusting his impeccable cuffs. "You need to bind, Adellum. Your reputation as New Solas's most eligible bachelor has run its course. The next phase of your career requires stability, connections. Lilleth offers both."

I laugh, a sound that splinters in the air between us. "My career. Is that what this is about? Or the money I make you?"

Sior sighs like I'm a difficult child. "You've always been dramatic. It's what makes your art compelling, but incredibly tiresome in conversation." He stands, his dark wings folding precisely against his back. "Lilleth's family connections would open doors even I can't. Think of what you could create with their patronage."

"I don't want their fucking patronage." I step closer, towering over him, letting my wings spread to their full span. Glass shatters as they knock over a shelf of expensive trinkets. "And I don't want Lilleth."

"Because of that human girl?" Sior's voice drips with disdain. "Your little garden pet from Arkan's estate? Don't think I don't know, Adellum. I know everything about you."

Something cold and terrible washes through me. My hand finds his throat before I realize I've moved, lifting him until his feet barely touch the ground. His eyes widen in genuine shock as I lean in close.

"Listen carefully," I whisper, feeling his pulse flutter beneath my fingers. "If you ever interfere in my personal life again—if you so much as mention Harmony—I will destroy everything we've built. I'll walk away from all of it. And you'll be nothing again, just like before I made you rich."

I release him, watching with grim satisfaction as he staggers back against the bookshelf, his immaculate appearance finally disheveled.

"You wouldn't dare," he rasps, rubbing his throat. "You need me."

"Test me and find out." I turn on my heel, leaving him stunned in my wake.

The evening air hits my face as I stalk out of the house, my wings spanning wide to catch the currents. But I don't take flight. Instead, I follow the path down to the riverbank where Harmony sometimes comes through when she can't use the servants' entrance. My heart aches with the need to see her, to wash away the stain of this night with her gentle hands and quiet laugh.

I settle on our boulder—the flat stone where we've spent countless stolen hours, her head on my shoulder as we watch the river flow past. The geode in my pocket digs into my palm as I squeeze it, tracing the rough edges with my thumb.

"Come on, little bird," I murmur to the darkness. "Come find me tonight."

Hours pass. The moons climb and descend. I try to sketch—I always carry charcoal and paper—but the lines won't come. My mind is too full of her. Did something keep her at Arkan's estate? Did Sior somehow interfere?

The eastern sky lightens gradually, painting the river in pale gold. Dawn arrives, mocking me with its beauty when the only sight I crave is Harmony's smile. I haven't spent a night without seeing her in three months. The emptiness of it carves something hollow in my chest.

I stand, muscles stiff from the night's vigil, wings heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. I know she has duties and I shouldn't bother her, but I can't bear the waiting any longer.

"Damn it all." I unfurl my wings and launch myself skyward with one powerful thrust, not caring who sees me leave. The cool morning air rushes past as I soar over New Solas, toward Lord Arkan's estate in the northern district.

My landing in Arkan's courtyard is less than graceful. A pair of his servants scatter, dropping their bundles of linens as I crash into a decorative fountain. Water sprays outward, soaking my wings, but I barely notice. I shake them once, droplets flinging in every direction, before stalking toward the house.

"Where is she?" I demand of a terrified housemaid who's frozen in the doorway.

"My—my lord? Who?—"

"Harmony. The gardener."

The woman's eyes widen. "I haven't seen?—"

I brush past her, every muscle in my body tense as I stride through hallways I've visited countless times before. I find myself in the kitchens, where Harmony often works on rainy days, helping prepare meals with herbs from her garden.

"Has anyone seen Harmony today?" My voice booms over the clattering of morning preparations. The kitchen staff freeze, looking between themselves nervously.

An older woman—Cook—steps forward, wiping her hands on her apron. "She hasn't been in since yesterday morning, Master Vey. Went out to the gardens and never came back for the evening meal."

My heart constricts. Yesterday morning. She never returned.

I turn, heading toward her little cottage that I know she has on the edges of Arkan's land. I slip outside, my wings propelling me forward as I rush to the little cottage.

The door isn't locked. I push it open to find a small, neat room with a narrow bed draped in a handmade quilt. A single shelf holds a collection of smooth river stones, dried flowers, and a charcoal sketch I drew of her months ago. The tiny window overlooks the kitchen gardens where she spends most of her days.

But the wardrobe stands open. Empty.

"No," I breathe, crossing the room in two strides. I run my hands along the bare shelves, finding only dust and a forgotten handkerchief. Her scent still lingers—sun-warmed earth and herbs—but it's fading, mocking me with its impermanence.

A sound from the doorway makes me whirl around, wings flaring defensively.

"Damn it, Adellum, watch those things," Lord Arkan snaps, ducking to avoid a wing-tip. "You're tearing my house apart. What in Solas's name are you doing?"

Arkan—my friend, my patron, my occasional confidant—looks more annoyed than concerned. His own wings, the white of old nobility though they are a little dappled, are folded neatly against his back, perfectly controlled as always.

"Where is she?" I grip his shoulders, not caring about propriety or rank. "Harmony. Where is she?"

Arkan's expression shifts from irritation to confusion. "How should I know? Probably in the gardens, where she belongs."

"She's gone." My voice cracks. "Her things are gone."

Arkan pulls free of my grasp, straightening his jacket with a disapproving frown. "The servants said you were causing a disturbance, but I didn't expect... this." He gestures at me—wild-eyed, soaking wet from the fountain, my wings trembling with barely contained panic.

"Help me find her," I say, hating the pleading note that's crept into my voice.

"Adellum," Arkan says slowly, as if speaking to a child, "she's a servant. Servants sometimes leave. There are dozens more I can hire."

I take a step toward him, electricity crackling around my fingertips. "She's not replaceable."

Something shifts in Arkan's eyes then—understanding, perhaps, or disappointment. He always knew that I was with her, but maybe he never understood how deep it ran.

He sighs heavily. "I told Sior you'd grown too attached. That's why he arranged the meeting with Lilleth, wasn't it? To redirect your... attentions."

The confirmation that Sior had discussed me—discussed Harmony—with Arkan sends a fresh surge of anger through me. I slam my fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster.

"Did either of you think to ask what I wanted?"

Arkan has the grace to look abashed. "We thought we knew. Power, connections, your art reaching new heights?—"

"I don't want any of it without her!" The words tear from my throat, raw and bleeding. I sink onto the edge of her empty bed, my wings drooping with sudden exhaustion. "Tell me where she is, Arkan. Please."

He hesitates, studying me with a mixture of pity and bewilderment. "I truly don't know. She didn't give notice. You're the first to see she is gone."

"She wouldn't just leave," I insist, but a terrible dread is building in my chest. "Not without telling me."

"Are you sure?" Arkan says carefully. "Did she want you in the way you thought?"

The implication in his tone makes me look up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

Arkan shrugs, uncomfortable now. "I'm just saying she's a human. Maybe you don't really understand her like you thought you did."

I dig my fist into my pocket, clutching the geode so tightly it draws blood. "I have to find her."

I storm out of the cottage.