Page 21
Jules
The Eyrie—The Bedroom
The door to our chamber flies open.
“Lord Alaric!” Shade’s voice cuts through the room, urgent, sharp. “They’ve breached the North Road!”
“What the—” I jerk up, pulling the sheets with me, only to freeze when two enormous male figures loom in the doorway behind her like gods of war.
Alaric is already sitting up beside me, hair wild, tattoos glowing faintly like embers.
His voice is all gravel and fury when he growls, “Speak.”
One of the men steps forward.
Broad, shirt unbuttoned, bronze-skinned with curling black horns jutting from his temples, he answers in a voice made for battlefield speeches.
“They’re attacking the villages at the base of Mount Thorn,” he says grimly. “The SoulTakers. They’ve come in force.”
Alaric snarls.
That sound reverberates straight through my spine.
The other man leans against the doorframe, nonchalant in a way that makes me nervous.
His eyes are pale. I can’t tell the color. But his smile? It’s sharp. And are those feathered wings? I blink.
“You sleep too long, Brother. I can see why, but it’s a good thing we showed up before your borders burned.”
I scramble to pull the blankets higher, realizing I’m still naked and very much on display for these two warlords or Demon dudes or whatever they are.
Alaric’s eyes flick toward me, and with a flick of his wrist— snap —magic washes over me.
I feel refreshed, like I just took a shower. Even my teeth feel brushed and my breath is minty.
Silk wraps around my skin, soft and warm, forming into a deep midnight-colored dress with silver sparkles dancing across it like stars. It’s belted at the waist with braided leather.
Practical, but beautiful.
My hair lifts from the pillow and falls into a quick twist, secured with a small silver pin shaped like a dragon in flight.
I blink, stunned, and whisper, “Uh, thanks.”
“Kael. Dagan,” Alaric bites out. “Don’t pretend this caught only me unaware. The SoulTakers are getting bold. But my guard will be ready.”
He doesn’t look at me. Standing up, I see he is dressed in leather pants and what looks like an armored breastplate.
“Cozy. So, this is she? Your human?” one of them, Kael I think, asks.
Alaric snarls at the two men, though the other one is not even glancing my way.
“You will not look upon her,” Alaric says coldly. “She is mine.”
Kael snorts.
“We noticed. May I offer my congratulations, my lady? Oh, hush your snarling, Alaric. I’m simply surprised you claimed her so quickly. And I didn’t expect Nightfall to mark her as well.”
The other one— Dagan, I think —raises an eyebrow.
“You congratulate him when you accuse me of moving too fast for simply scouting out some locations in the Earth realm?”
Shade clears her throat loudly, stepping between me and the doorway.
“Lord Alaric, Lords Kael and Dagan only arrived moments ago. Their forces are gathered at the base of the Eyrie. The people are afraid. Some are here, at your door?—”
Alaric snarls and rises from the bed.
Tall, powerful, bare.
I have one second to be crazily jealous, but Shade’s gaze is averted, and he already had that same whip of magic dress him in leather and armor.
His wings are back, too. Dark and powerful, and I know I should be afraid, but I’m not.
When he is wearing his true Demon form, Alaric looks like a dark angel.
Like a Fairy King or some dark pirate.
Magic and strength seem to wrap around his body like the cloak of a warlord.
The glyphs on his skin are everywhere now, and seem to glow brighter as he stalks forward.
“ Myrrin ,” he says, turning to me. “You’re safe here. Shade will stay with you.”
“Wait, what’s happening?” My voice cracks a little, and I hate it. I hate the sound of my own fear, brittle and raw. “Who are they? What exactly do the SoulTakers want? Are people going to die? Are you walking right into danger?”
His expression flickers.
Just for a second.
But it’s enough.
Anger. Regret. Worry. And something even deeper than that.
The need to protect.
It carves itself across his face before he pulls the mask back down, smoothing it into the composed, unreadable mask of the Lord of the Eyrie.
“I will not let them reach you,” he says, and his voice is iron wrapped in velvet. “They want fear. They want dreams. Souls to fuel their dark power. And they will get neither from the Eyrie.”
I push the covers off and swing my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the fact that I’m still wearing this beautiful, but the gossamer-thin dress he conjured around me.
Lovely, but I’m usually a yoga pants and t-shirts kind of gal.
“I want to come with you. Maybe I can help.”
I don’t know how—shit, I don’t know anything except that the idea of him going out there alone makes my chest cave in.
“No, my viyella. You must remain in the keep.”
He moves to a large armoire that hadn’t even registered before.
It’s made of some kind of dark wood and I wonder if it’s sentient because it seems to open and close drawers before he touches it.
It’s carved with shifting glyphs that seem to glow faintly when he gets close, and inside them are all manner of things.
He waves his hands, and the two largest doors open, and inside I see shelves of glass vials, pouches, polished stones, and blades that shimmer with quiet menace.
The scent of sandalwood, smoke, and steel fills the air as he selects a few items with terrifying precision.
Powders. Oils. Tiny bottles that crackle faintly with static.
He attaches them to the belt now wrapped around his waist, sheathing a pair of wicked-looking knives at his back and slipping a longer curved blade across his chest.
He’s dressing for war.
And not just any war.
His kind of war.
One laced with magic and prophecy and death.
“But Alaric—” I step toward him.
He turns.
His pupils are slits now.
His eyes glow like molten silver under a full moon.
And the low rumble that echoes in his chest isn’t just a warning. It’s his Dragon, risen and ready to fight.
“Stay. Here.”
The command lands heavy, like the whole room just dropped ten degrees.
My breath catches in my throat.
My body reacts before my mind can— shoulders locking up, stomach twisting.
Not because I’m afraid of him.
Because I’m afraid for him.
I nod once, swallowing hard.
But deep inside, I know I won’t be able to sit here if something happens.
Because I love him.
Even if I’m not ready to say it.
Even if I’m not sure he’s ready to hear it.
Even if this battle might be the one that proves what we are… or breaks us completely.
Then he turns away, his wings unfurling as he strides toward the door.
Kael glances back at me once, curious.
“Brave, this one. And clever, too. I like her.”
Dagan snorts. “You would.”
They vanish behind Alaric, and the room feels colder for it.
I sit back slowly, the silk of the conjured dress clinging to my skin, heart pounding with the knowledge that something big is happening.
Bigger than me.
Bigger than all of this.
“Shade,” I whisper, stepping closer. “What will the SoulTakers do if they get past Alaric’s guard?”
She pales at the mention of them. Her usual sparkle—gone. Her long red braid looks dull in the low light, and her hands twist together at her waist like she’s trying to keep herself from shaking.
“I-I don’t know. They’re the monsters who don’t ask permission, Lady Jules,” she says softly.
Her voice is different now. Low, reverent, scared. “They take. They destroy. And now they’re here.”
The air shifts with the weight of her words.
Take.
Destroy.
God. That’s what Alaric is facing right now.
And I’m standing here, wrapped in a silk shift, marked by this realm’s magic like a prize, while the man who claimed me— who I have irrevocably fallen for —walks into something he might not come back from.
No.
No, I can’t just stand here like a decoration in a fairytale tower.
I straighten my shoulders. “Will you help me find something else to wear?”
Shade looks surprised. “Something else?”
I nod once. “As much as I love the traditional garb of Nightfall, I can’t just sit in a dress while Alaric is out there fighting a battle. I need to do something.”
There’s a beat of hesitation.
Then, softly, “Yes, Lady Jules.”
She crosses the room quickly and presses her hand to a portion of the wall. A soft hum fills the air.
Stone shimmers, rippling like water, and a door appears that hadn’t been there before.
“This is your closet,” she says, stepping inside with a cautious glance. “You only have to think about what you need, and it will appear.”
I follow her in.
And immediately stop.
Rows of gowns— each one more exquisite than the last —hang from gleaming silver rods that float a few feet above the ground.
The air smells like crushed petals and starlight, and every surface glows faintly with magic.
The shoes alone could fill an entire boutique.
I could stay here for hours.
But not now.
I walk deeper, scanning past shimmering ballgowns and embroidered robes until I find what I’m looking for— a section hung with clothing in deep tones, fitted pants, belted tunics, cloaks, and boots.
Familiar. Practical.
The kind of gear I wore when riding Alaric’s Dragon form.
“Lady Jules?” Shade asks nervously.
“These are perfect,” I say firmly, and begin to get dressed, shedding the delicate silk dress and pulling on a pair of leather pants and a sturdy tunic cinched at the waist with a belt.
I spot a long coat— lined in what looks like midnight velvet and clasped with silver —and shrug it on, the weight of it grounding me.
Shade still fidgets in the doorway, wringing her hands. “Forgive me, Lady Jules, but a, a Lady of the keep doesn’t usually?—”
“I’m not really a traditional Lady of the keep, am I?” I say, tugging my boots on and turning to face her.
“Besides, I’m the viyella of the Lord of Air, Master of the Eyrie, keeper of Winds, and whatever else he told me he is,” I say and grin, though my heart feels heavy. “To me that means the people who came here scared and looking for protection are mine to care for, too.”
Her eyes widen.
“Now, bring me to where Lord Alaric’s subjects are waiting. The injured, the frightened, the ones who’ve had to flee. And make sure we have food, clothes, anything else they might need.”
She swallows hard. Then nods. “Yes, Lady Jules.”
And I follow her— through glowing corridors and echoing stairwells —because if I can’t be at Alaric’s side wielding a sword, I can be here, ready to hold the line for those who can’t.
I can be his strength behind the walls.
And if the SoulTakers think they’ve seen everything of the Lord of Air’s power and might, well…
they haven’t met me yet.