Page 11

Chapter

Ten

Araya clutched the velvet-lined case of the fae prince’s blood to her chest as they climbed the endless stairs. Neither of them spoke until Jaxon closed the workshop door with a decisive click. A whiff of burnt aether stung her nose as he traced the rune for silence, thyn glowing silver-blue against the dark wood.

“Lock those in the safe,” he said. “In iron. No sense taking any chances.”

Araya nodded, her fingers fumbling as she sealed her entire kit—vials, cloth, everything—into one of the iron-bound boxes meant for cursed objects. The cold metal seared her skin, the sting lingering even after she closed the door on it, as if she could lock the truth away too.

Loren . The male who haunted her dreams wasn’t just real—he was the lost heir to the fae throne, imprisoned by the Arcanum for twenty-five years. And the way he’d looked at her… he’d recognized her.

If Jaxon had seen it…

Araya’s breath hitched, her heartbeat roaring in her ears as she stared at the locked safe without seeing it. Jaxon would never just brush that off—he’d dig. And if he found out about the dreams…would he call her to task for keeping secrets she hadn’t even known she had?

And then there was the magic. She hadn’t thought, hadn’t reached for a rune, hadn’t done anything deliberate. It had just happened . The shield, the surge of aether...the shadows. Gods, the shadows . She had no idea why that had happened. What possible explanation could there be for how they’d reacted to her? Curling around her like they knew her?

Araya let out a shuddering breath, pressing her hand to her chest as she struggled to compose herself. She would just have to explain—he would listen. Jaxon always listened to her.

She turned, opening her mouth to tell him she had no idea what had happened, but he was already there, his arms caging her against the safe. Araya froze. Her explanations caught in her throat as she braced for the worst—but instead, Jaxon’s lips found the curve of her neck.

“That was incredible, Starling,” he murmured, pressing slow, hungry kisses against her skin.

She gasped, shivering as he kissed the spot just below her ear. “You’re—not angry?”

“How could I be angry? The way you defended me—” he nipped her lightly, laughing when she yelped before soothing the sting with his lips. “It was positively fae of you.”

He pulled back, watching her with bright, hungry eyes. “Have you always been able to do that?”

“Of course not.” Araya wrenched herself from his grip, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself so he wouldn’t see how badly she was shaking. “I’ve never—I swear?—”

“Araya,” Jaxon interrupted, watching her with an amusement that felt horribly out of place. “Take a breath, Starling. You’re not in trouble.”

She stopped, staring at him. How could she not be in trouble? And why didn’t he even look surprised ?

“It’s just power, Starling,” he said, soothing, indulgent—like she was being ridiculous. “You know magic theory. You’re holding more aether than ever before. It’s only natural that you’d start to exhibit more fae traits.”

He grinned wider, his voice dipping lower. “You should embrace it—you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

Araya shuddered, pressing her back against the nearest table. The way he was looking at her wasn’t affection—it was fascination. He’d let her magic accumulate, watched it swell and fester inside her—just to see what it would do. Just to see what she would do.

“Are you studying me?” Araya snapped. “Is that all this is to you? Another research project? If anyone else had seen that—” she shuddered. She would be in chains right now.

“No one did,” Jaxon said. Before she could step away, he reached for her, pulling her flush against him. His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling gently in her hair. “Except the prince—and he won’t tell anyone.”

Araya stiffened, but he only smiled, brushing his thumb over her jaw in a gesture that might have looked tender to anyone else.

“You’re the first person he’s spoken to in years,” he murmured, like it was something to be proud of. “You really did play your part brilliantly.”

Araya’s stomach twisted, bile rising in her throat. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to be playing a part.”

“You’re angry.” Jaxon raised his eyebrows, releasing her. “Why?”

“I—” Araya shook her head, trying to dispel the memory of the chained male and the raw, oozing wounds under the iron around his wrists and throat. “It was just so—so ugly.”

“It’s torture, Araya.” Jaxon rolled his eyes. “It is ugly.”

She stared at him. “But you’re not an inquisitor. You’re a commander.” This wasn’t supposed to be his job.

Jaxon smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This one’s personal.”

He crossed the room, casually pouring himself a drink. “He knew my father—before. It’s a brilliant strategy, actually, having me lead his interrogation. The last time he saw me I was barely walking.”

“But…” she whispered. “If this project is so important…shouldn’t he see a Healer?”

Jaxon turned, glass in hand. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He sipped, unfazed. “He’s fae. He’s fine.”

“Fine?” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it, sharp with disbelief. This wasn’t the Jaxon she remembered—the brilliant human mage who had changed her life by taking an interest in her, who pushed her to apply for a waiver she should never have had a hope of getting.

“He’s been in that cell for twenty-five years.” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “He’s not fine .”

Jaxon turned back to her slowly, like she was the one who had lost her mind. “He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” he said flatly. “That’s all we need from him right now.”

Araya looked away, her vision blurring with tears as shame and anger churned in her chest. She needed to get out of this room—away from Jaxon and the horror of what she had just done, before she said something she couldn’t take back.

“You still have work to finish,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I should go home?—”

“No,” Jaxon said. “You needed me to siphon from you, didn’t you? So you don’t lose control again.”

Araya froze. Her magic thrummed under her skin, restless—but the memory of the cell clung to her like smoke. His hand around her throat. The way he’d wrenched her power from her before it started to flow on its own, tossing her aside just as casually, leaving her gasping in pain on that filthy, cold floor.

“You took enough earlier,” she said quietly. “I can wait?—”

“You can’t.” Jaxon’s hand shot out, gripping her arm with bruising force. “Like you said, what if someone had seen you?”

“I know,” Araya whispered. “But?—”

“But what, Araya?” His voice dropped, and she flinched at his use of her name instead of the fond nickname he’d given her all those years ago. “You’re mine to protect. Or have you forgotten that?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “But you hurt me—in the cell. When you draw on it that fast?—”

“I couldn’t exactly go slow in the cell with the prince ripping his chains from the wall to get to you, could I?” He huffed, his breath warm against her skin. “But we can go slow now, Starling. Let me take care of you.”

“Is this where I pretend I have a choice?” She asked, swallowing hard.

Jaxon leaned back, studying her. “You always have a choice, Starling,” he said, his voice soft, almost tender. “But you never say no to me. Now, come here.”

He pulled her to the couch, dragging her roughly into his lap when she tried to sit down beside him instead. Her magic pulsed under her skin, rising eagerly to meet him as his hands traced over her sides. She tensed under his touch, bracing for pain—but instead heat bloomed in her chest. It spread through her body like molten gold, soothing her aches and dulling the edges of her exhaustion until she was floating, weightless.

Jaxon sighed against her skin, pleased. “There it is,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear, his breath hot against her skin as his power intertwined with hers. “That’s balance, Starling. This is what I give you—what you can’t get anywhere else. Remember that.”

She buried her face in his neck, a soft moan escaping as he traced lazy, possessive circles on her hip. Shame prickled at the edges of her awareness—but she couldn’t hold onto it, not while her magic poured out in slow, steady waves.

But then the pull sharpened. Pleasure twisted, too tight and sharp as warmth bled into pressure. Araya gasped, clutching Jaxon’s shirt as his easy draw on her magic turned insistent—demanding. Relentless.

“Jaxon—” she groaned, her voice wavering. “That—it’s enough.”

But he didn’t stop .

“It’s dangerous to let power like this fester,” Jaxon said, a steel edge under his tender words as his fingers dug harder into her flesh, pinning her in place. “I’m just keeping you safe, Starling.”

“ Jaxon— ” she shoved at his chest but he just grunted, then laughed when she clawed at his arms.

“You’d let this destroy you if I stopped now,” he said, his fingers digging into her hips as she twisted in his grip. “Stop fighting me, Araya. You’re the one making it hurt this time—you need this.”

Her body gave in before her mind did.

Her fists unclenched. Her breathing slowed, syncing with his as he kept drawing her power into himself. He was right—she needed this. She needed him . No matter how loudly something deep inside her screamed that she didn’t.

Jaxon sighed in contentment, loosening his grip to run his free hand down her back in long, soothing strokes. “That’s it, Starling. Let go.”

And then—finally, he stopped.

“You took too much,” Araya gasped, shuddering in his grip. Her voice was slurred and distant—like it belonged to someone else. Cold crawled through her veins, her magic guttering to a flicker.

Jaxon clicked his tongue, shifting her off his lap. She sagged into the couch, too exhausted to support her own weight as he crossed the room to the bar cart. Glass clinked softly as he poured, draining it in a single swallow before turning back to face her.

“I left you with exactly what any unbonded breeding female gets,” he said, his voice clipped. “If you didn’t have me—this would be your normal.”

Araya could only stare at him, her vision blurring. Why would he do that to her? She blinked hard, trying to swallow the tears before he saw them—but of course he did.

He sighed, crossing back to her. His thumb stroked over her cheek, brushing the tears away from the corners of her eyes before tilting her chin up, forcing her to look at him .

“You fought me,” he said gently—answering the question she hadn’t asked. “You promised to trust me. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t—” she couldn’t focus enough to finish the thought. She hadn’t meant to fight him. Had she?

“It’s my fault, really,” Jaxon said, ignoring her protest. “I’ve been too lenient with you. But you need to remember, Starling, I give you more because I want to. If you ever question me like that again…” he shook his head. “I’ll have no choice but to treat you like the rest. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jaxon,” she whispered—because what else could she say?

He smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face with the backs of his fingers. For a moment, Araya leaned into it—her body betraying her with the instinct to be soothed. To feel safe, even when she knew better. Shame prickled hot in her chest. Why did she always give in to him so easily?

“You’ll feel better after you get some sleep,” Jaxon said, plucking a blanket off the arm of the couch. He tucked it around her, easing her down onto the cushions. “It’s been a hard night, Starling. But you’ll feel better in the morning. Now what do you say?”

“Thank you,” she murmured, the words spilling automatically from her cracked lips.

“Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before he straightened, smiling down at her.

“Sleep now,” he said, already turning back to his work. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to take you home.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But now Araya knew it somehow was—from the shadows whispering and pooling in the cracks between the stones to the fae prince lounging against the wall, his hands cradled in his lap and his head tipped back, eyes closed. Pretending to sleep.

The dream version of his cell wasn’t cold, but she still shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She couldn’t even feel the stone beneath her bare feet this time. Was this her dream? His? Or was it something else entirely?

“Are you going to keep pretending I don’t exist?” she demanded.

Loren’s eyes stayed closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Would it help if I snored?”

“Did you just make a joke ?” A laugh bubbled out of her, thin and incredulous. “This isn’t funny! Why does this keep happening?”

He opened his eyes slowly, the sharp green gleaming in the strange dim light of the dream. “You tell me, ael’sura ,” he said, flashing her a wicked, sharp smile. “Who do you think I am?”

Araya stared at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. Sura was a rune used in Healing—but she was no Healer. The way he said it sounded like a name, or a title.

“Prince Loren of Valendral,” she said cautiously. “Heir to the fae throne. Presumed dead—but obviously not.”

“Yet.” Loren chuckled drily, the sound brittle. He rose in one smooth motion, the chains dragging against the stone with a harsh, metallic rasp. “Is that all you know me as?”

“I don’t—” Araya’s words cut off as she stared at the fresh blood streaking his arms. It welled around the edges of the manacles, dripping over bruised and bloody knuckles. “Gods—” she stepped forward without thinking. “What happened ?”

Loren froze as she took his hand, cradling the bruised and broken flesh carefully in her own. He’d hit something—the floor if she had to guess—hard and repeatedly. She didn’t have much gift with Healing, but she’d spent enough time with Serafina to guess that he had several broken bones in addition to the terrible wounds from the iron.

“You shouldn’t touch me, ael’sura .” He winced, his voice rough as he gently brushed her hands away. His fingers lingered a moment too long against her skin before falling away, curling into fists at his sides. “Are you alright? If he’s hurting you I will kill him?— ”

“He’s not hurting me!” Araya stared at him, her eyes wide with alarm. “You cannot kill him, Loren.”

“You protected him in my cell, too.” He growled, low in his throat. “He doesn’t deserve it, ael’sura . I saw him take your power. That kind of violation—” he shook his head, like he was too furious to continue. “Do you know what he said about you? He said he owned you—body, magic, and life.”

“Well…he does—technically.” Araya rubbed the ly’ithra rune at the base of her thumb. “He’s my bond. We share power all the time. He was just a little too rough with it this time?—”

“He’s your what ?” He recoiled like she’d struck him, chains rattling as he jerked a step back. Something jerked in her chest, snapping tight like a thread pulled taut. His gaze dropped to her hand, fixing on the rune inked there. “You gave him your name?”

“All fae give the Arcanum their name,” she snapped, not caring for the judgement in his tone. “Jaxon purchased my bond from them—which I consented to. Trust me, it’s a better life?—”

Loren scoffed, his expression twisting in disbelief. “Fae would never give up their true names.”

Araya straightened, indignation flaring hot and bright. Was he accusing her of lying ? She was nearly as fae as he was—and just as bound by the truth.

“The law mandates that anyone over half-fae surrender their true name and accept the ly’ithra rune,” she said, her voice heated. “If you refuse, they torture you.”

“There are fates worse than torture.” Loren bared his teeth at her, the sharp points of his canines flashing. “You gave them the power to do anything they wanted to you.”

“I was seven .” Her voice wavered, but she set her jaw, willing fire into her eyes as she glared at him. “They told me they wouldn’t kill my mother if I gave them my name.” A bitter laugh scraped her throat. “They lied.”

Loren froze, the chains rattling faintly as his grip slackened at his sides. His green eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place—anger, pity, or perhaps both. “ Ael’sura —” he started.

Araya cut him off. “They killed her right in front of me before they clipped my ears and inked the ly’ithra rune on my hand. Then they sent me to live at Kaldrath. The Arcanum called it a school for fae orphans…but it was more like a prison. They re-educated us—anyone caught using a call name or speaking Valenya was beaten until they forgot the words. I saw it happen over and over again.”

Loren’s face darkened as she spoke, his gaze flicking to the jagged tip of her ear. He opened his mouth but Araya plunged forward, looking away so she wouldn’t have to face the pity she was certain she would see in his eyes.

“A lot of us died there. My first week, one of the older boys tried to run. They caught him before he even made it to the gates and hung him up there—as a warning to the rest of us.”

“Fae live in slums now,” she continued, the heat leaking out of her voice. “Crammed together in crumbling, damp ruins that aren’t fit for beasts, let alone people. So many get sick—or disappear. Females…the Arcanum incentivizes breeding with humans, to strengthen their bloodlines—” Loren hissed at that, but Araya ignored him. “Males are drained, worked until they break, then discarded and left to die like trash.”

“Your people are being ground down to nothing, Your Highness .” She forced herself to look up then, to meet the horror in his eyes. “So don’t you dare judge them for giving up their names. Hate me if you want—but I will never be sorry for choosing a life where I’m safe and fed. Where I get to raise my children instead of having them ripped from my arms and given to a human family—or worse, sent somewhere like Kaldrath.”

“I don’t hate you, ael’sura ,” Loren said, his bright eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m just sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you.”

Araya blinked, startled. An apology was the last thing she had expected .

“I suggested you see a Healer,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now.

“Don’t ask for favors on my behalf,” Loren said sharply. “I won’t have you paying the price.”

Araya scowled at him, but before she could argue the dream rippled around them, pitching her forward. Loren caught her, his arms closing around her instinctively. He surrounded her, the sudden contact sending a shock through her like she’d plunged into icy water. Something in her chest hummed , reaching?—

Loren flinched, releasing her and stepping hastily away.

“What was that?” Araya demanded breathlessly.

“You’re waking up,” Loren said.

Araya narrowed her eyes at him. That was a tricky answer if she’d ever heard one. “That’s not?—”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t tell anyone about these dreams--especially not Jaxon. Promise me you won’t?—”

Before she could even think about answering, the dream jolted again, shattering into a thousand pieces around her. Araya gasped, dragging air into her lungs like she’d been drowning. Her eyes snapped open, her heart pounding as they locked with Jaxon’s warm brown stare.

“Easy, Starling,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “I’m going to take you home now.”

Araya nodded, leaning into his warm touch. But her skin still tingled where Loren’s hands had been, his words still echoing in her mind. Don’t tell anyone—especially not Jaxon .