Page 15

Chapter

Fourteen

Araya hadn’t seen Jaxon since the dungeon yesterday. He hadn’t come home until late—long after she’d poured the tea she’d brewed down the drain. Araya had actually wanted her dreams to bring her to him last night, hoping against hope for some small confirmation that he hadn’t died in there, alone and cold, because of her.

But she hadn’t gotten it.

He was sleeping soundly when she finally slipped out of their bed, dressing in the bathroom and leaving the apartment on silent feet. She wasn’t avoiding him. Not entirely. She just wasn’t ready to see him—not when she couldn’t be certain she could keep her opinion of how he’d left Loren behind her clenched teeth.

“I might be a while,” Araya told the driver as she climbed down from the carriage, balancing her basket of pastries on her hip. “You don’t have to wait.”

“Sorry, Miss Starwind.” The driver didn’t meet her eye. “Master Shaw—your Master Shaw—said we’re not to leave you anywhere but the Aetherium.”

“He—” Araya started, then stopped. She wanted to say Jaxon wouldn’t have done that. But he’d been furious the last time she left without a carriage. And this… it did feel like something he would do. But wouldn’t he have told her?

“I lived in this neighborhood for years,” she said instead. “You really don’t have to wait. I’ll be fine.”

The driver shook his head, gaze fixed just over her shoulder. “I understand, miss. But I still have to stay.”

Part of Araya wanted to argue—but no one who worked for the Shaw family disobeyed orders. Not when they came from Jaxon or Garrick. If she argued and tried to force the issue, she would be the one who suffered for it later.

“I’ll be quick,” she said quietly.

The clinic looked exactly as she remembered it—squat and square, its stone facade softened by ivy and peeling paint. The benches outside were empty at this hour, but later they’d fill with people laughing and chatting as they waited their turn. Just a few months ago, Araya would have sat among them without a second thought. But today, she hesitated on the doorstep, feeling like a trespasser.

Bracing herself, Araya knocked sharply on the cheery blue door, the sound echoing too loudly in the dawn quiet.

Serafina opened the door a moment later, already dressed in her blue Healer’s robes, her hair pinned back in the same no-nonsense twist Araya remembered. She said nothing at first, just looked at her—really looked—her eyes pausing on the basket, then flicking past her to the black carriage waiting on the street.

“I brought breakfast,” Araya said quietly, lifting the basket between them. “I was hoping we could talk.”

For a moment, Serafina didn’t move. Her mouth tightened, her expression unreadable, and Araya braced herself for the door to close in her face.

But then, with a tired sigh, Serafina stepped aside. “Of course,” she said. “Come in.”

Serafina poured the tea as Araya unpacked the basket in silence, placing a honey-glazed pastry on each of the two chipped plates.

The clinic was quiet at this hour—only a handful of cots in the back held resting patients, all of them asleep under thin woolen blankets. A low shelf against the far wall overflowed with neatly labeled glass jars and cloth-wrapped bandages, the scent of dried herbs mixing with the sharp tang of antiseptic.

Finally, Serafina took the seat across from her, just as she had hundreds of times before, folding her hands neatly on the scarred workbench that doubled as both a workspace and a kitchen table.

“Now,” she said, pinning Araya with a searching look. “Why are you really here?”

Araya looked down at her pastry, twisting the linen towel from the pastry basket between her fingers. She’d had a whole speech prepared—but her gaze snagged on a rust-colored smear beneath one of her nails, and her stomach turned.

She’d always known Jaxon was ambitious—even ruthless. But it had always been bloodless, contained to academics and politics. What he’d done to Loren….it was a cruelty she hadn’t expected from him.

And Loren’s blood was on her hands too. Literally. She had cleaned his wounds. Cared for him like she wasn’t the whole reason Jaxon had tortured him.

But it was necessary, wasn’t it? The Arcanum needed to know how to break the Shadowed Veil. Someone had to figure it out—and if it wasn’t Jaxon, it would be someone worse. Hale—or someone like him. Wasn’t this better?

“Araya?” Serafina’s voice cut gently through her thoughts. The Healer watched her, brows drawn and her face pinched with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Not really.” Araya dropped the towel and wrapped her hands around her mug, trying to soak in some comfort from the warmth. “I need some supplies. Bandages, suture kits, antiseptics… and anything you have to treat iron burns. ”

“Iron burns?” Serafina’s spoon clattered against her mug. Her sharp green eyes swept over Araya, searching for injuries. “Are you hurt? Did Jaxon?—”

“No,” Araya said, too quickly. She took a deep breath, trying to smooth out the edges of her voice. “It’s not for me.”

“Well whoever it is for needs to see a Healer.” Serafina was already on her feet, rummaging through the storage cabinet where they kept the stronger medicines. “Iron burns need proper treatment—not just whatever scraps I can give you. If they can’t come here I can come to them?—”

“You can’t,” Araya bit her lip, silently begging Serafina not to ask too many questions. “It’s for Jaxon—he doesn’t even know I’m here.”

Serafina turned slowly, setting the supplies she’d been gathering down on the table. “I’m going to need more than that if you want my help, Araya. What are you doing—are you helping the Arcanum torture someone? Patching them up so they can be hurt again?”

Araya didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The silence stretched between them—thick and damning.

“ Gods , Araya.” Serafina closed her eyes. “How could you?”

“I don’t have a choice,” Araya protested. “I’m just doing what I have to do to survive?—”

“Survive at what cost, Araya?” Serafina folded her arms, scowling. “Do you think you’re the only one they’ve asked to patch up a prisoner for them? They’ve asked other Healers—they even came to me. But none of us ever do it. Healers don’t treat wounds just to see them reopened. That’s not medicine—that’s complicity."

Her voice softened, but the disappointment remained. "I thought you believed in that, too. But instead you’re letting Jaxon turn you into a tool he can wield.”

Araya’s breath hitched. “That’s not fair,” she said. “He’s not perfect—but he’s trying to fix things. To make things better for the fae. And he actually has the power to do it. He’s trying to stop the shadows?—”

“He's trying to control the shadows?” Serafina asked sharply.

Araya winced. “I shouldn’t have said that—but yes. We think—Jaxon thinks—there’s a way to direct them. To harness them. If we can just figure it out, we could keep the shadows off the slums, maybe even lift them entirely.”

To her surprise, Serafina’s face paled. “And you think that’s a good thing?”

“Of course I do.” Araya frowned, confused by Serafina’s reaction. “Don’t you? You’re always doing everything you can to help the fae in the districts.”

Serafina shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin, tense line. “I can’t tell you. Just…leave the shadows alone, Araya. Please.”

“We used to tell each other everything,” Araya said, staring at Serafina. “There wasn’t a single secret between us. When did that change?”

“When you tied yourself to Jaxon.” Serafina crossed her arms, her expression cold. “You're the one who made it impossible to tell you anything. Whatever I say could easily end up in his hands--his ties to the Arcanum put us all at risk."

“You work for the Arcanum too, Serafina!" Araya snapped. “Just because you run a community clinic doesn’t mean you don’t take their gold. How is that any different?"

"Because I’m not bound to them the way you are, Araya.” Serafina’s voice softened, but the words were no less sharp. “I don’t have to wonder who I am when I look in the mirror. Can you say the same?”

Araya shoved her chair back with a loud scrape, her hands shaking as she grabbed her cloak from the back of it. “This was a mistake.” She stood, sweeping her cloak around her shoulders. "Sorry to bother you?—”

“Wait.” Serafina stood, her expression grim. “You’re not leaving without what you need.”

Araya turned slowly, watching as Serafina crossed to the supply cabinet and pulled out a worn leather medical kit. With the practiced ease of someone who had done this a hundred times, she began filling it methodically—packing in bandages, suture kits, and small glass vials of antiseptic.

Finally, Serafina climbed onto the counter to retrieve a small jar from the locked storage cabinet—the one reserved for rare, carefully monitored treatments. She wrapped it carefully in linen before tucking it into the bag.

“For the iron burns,” she said quietly. “It’s highly regulated. Use it sparingly. This is all I can spare without flagging the Inquisitors.”

She added a small, worn book to the pile. “This is a basic primer on Healing—there are instructions for burns, wounds…anything you might be dealing with.”

“Thank you.” Araya took the bag, her voice shaking. “This is—just thank you, Serafina.”

Serafina nodded. “We are still friends, Araya,” she said, pulling her into a tight hug. “Even if we can’t tell each other everything. Even if it’s hard.”

Araya’s throat tightened, the ache in her chest almost unbearable. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know.” Serafina pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, her expression somber—tired in a way Araya hadn’t noticed before. “But I’m still here. And if you ever need me…” She squeezed Araya’s hand. “I’m here. Just…try not to lose yourself, Araya. He’s not worth it.”

Araya swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I should go.”

Serafina walked her to the door, lingering on the threshold, and for just a moment, Araya hesitated, longing to stay in a place she’d once belonged. But Araya’s choice here had been made months ago, when she agreed to give Jaxon her bond.

The driver closed the door behind her with a heavy thud, the carriage lurching forward a moment later. Araya stared out the window, not even seeing the streets of Aetheris as they blurred past. Instead, her hand tightened around the worn bag Serafina had given her, the leather handle biting into her palm as her friend’s warning echoed in her mind .

Don’t lose yourself.

But what if it was already too late? What if the choices she had made—the ones she was still making—had already stolen parts of her she could never get back?

Araya strode down the corridor, her footsteps echoing off the stone as she blazed past the long procession of iron doors. It was cold outside, but the chill down here was different—it leeched the warmth from her bones, making her shiver despite her cloak.

“Miss Starwind,” the guard greeted her with a nod as she approached Loren’s door.

“Aeron.” Araya mustered a thin smile, her gaze flicking to the heavy iron door. “How is he?”

The guard frowned, confusion clouding his features. “Who?”

“Loren,” she clarified, her voice tightening. “The prisoner.”

“No one’s heard anything from in there.” Aeron shrugged, his tone indifferent. “We don’t go in. Takes two keys to open the door.” He gestured to the untouched tray on the table beside him. “All I know is, he didn’t eat.”

Araya’s stomach twisted at the sight of the gray, pasty gruel, the bread crust speckled with mold. “No one’s been inside? At all?”

Aeron’s expression turned defensive. “Not since you, miss.”

“So he could be dead in there and you wouldn’t know?” Araya dug for her key, drawing it out of the interior pocket of her cloak. “Open the door.”

“Sorry, miss.” Aeron shook his head. “Jaxon wanted to see you first—said to send you down to the workshop.”

“Of course he did.” Araya stepped back, her fingers curling into a fist around the key as she stared at the iron door. She glared at the guard. “When I come back—there needs to be warm clothing, blankets…and actual, decent food. Food that you would be willing to eat. ”

“Master Jaxon will have to approve that,” Aeron called after her as she stormed down the hall.

“He will,” Araya snapped, not bothering to turn back to reply.

She found Jaxon exactly where Aeron said he would be—seated at one of the newly cleared workbenches with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, head bent over a mess of glass tubing and delicate brass couplings. Half a distillation rig had already taken shape, the blown glass flasks etched with delicate runes, just waiting to be activated.

“Starling—” Jaxon jumped as she let the door slam into the stone wall. “I missed you this morning.”

“I had an errand to run.” Araya dropped the first aid kit Serafina had assembled onto her own workbench. “Did you know that no one has checked on Loren?”

“Why would they have?” Jaxon gave her a bemused look, setting down the glass tubing he’d been inspecting. “They’re here to make sure he doesn’t escape—not coddle him.”

“ Escape ?” Araya snorted. “You think he could escape after what you did to him? You’ve had him in iron for over twenty years?—”

“He’s fae, Starling,” Jaxon arched an eyebrow. “He’ll heal.”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. This was necessary—what she had to do. But Serafina was right, she didn’t have to lose herself in the process.

“He’s running on nothing,” Araya continued. “And you’re starving him on top of it. Without magic, healing is going to be agonizingly slow. Keep treating him like an animal, and you won’t get what you need from him. He needs food. Water. Warmth. Some shred of dignity.”

“He’s a prisoner, Starling,” Jaxon said, his voice cool. “He doesn’t get dignity.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Why are you so concerned with his well-being?”

“Because you ordered me to be!” Araya snapped, then caught herself. She drew in a breath, trying to contain the heat in her voice. “You were so set on getting me to earn his trust. How am I supposed to do that when you’re leaving him like… like this? ”

Jaxon’s expression remained composed, but something darker flickered in his eyes—something that didn’t belong to the polished mask he wore so well. “Is it that important to you?”

“ Please , Jaxon,” she said, shivering even under all her layers. How cold must he be in that dark cell? Without even a shirt?

Jaxon sighed, his lips quirking into a faint smile. He closed the space between them, his hand slipping under the cloak to settle at the small of her back. Not holding her there—but reminding her that he could.

“You’re not playing fair, Starling.” He leaned in, his breath ghosting over the scarred edge of her ear. “You know I can’t say no when you ask so nicely.”

Araya huffed, twisting just enough to put space between them. “And you can tell the carriage drivers to stop keeping tabs on me. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“You do.” Jaxon let her pull away, but his hand lingered at her waist, tracing slow circles at her hip. "You’re my bond, Araya. You don’t have the anonymity you once did. The places you used to go? They aren’t safe for you any more. Your refusal to acknowledge and understand that is dangerous—do you know what one of the rebel groups would do to you if they thought they could use you to get to me? Or my father?”

Araya stiffened. She had known she was taking a risk, but hearing it from Jaxon’s lips made it feel... reckless.

His fingers stroked down her jaw, his touch light, coaxing. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Starling.” He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her temple. “So please…for me. Don’t fight the carriage drivers on this.”

She glanced away, her resolve cracking under the weight of his stare. “Fine,” she muttered. She turned away, forcing herself to focus on the distillation rig instead—anything that wasn’t him . Her eyes caught on a case of bone blanks, the ivory discs arranged neatly in their packaging.

“These won’t hold a stable charge for long,” she said, picking one up and turning it between her fingers. “Silver housings will slow the leakage, but it won’t fix the core issue. If you’re really trying to bind shadow magic to a physical vessel, you need a stronger lattice—preferably bone with a naturally high aether affinity.”

“I agree,” Jaxon plucked the blank from her fingers. “I put a petition in yesterday for whole bones, but these were the largest I could get at short notice. Is it enough to get started?”

Araya hesitated, glancing at where the vials of Loren’s blood sat, held in suspension. “Once the blood is processed…we should be able to imbue six testers. But if you’re using whole bone—you’ll need more.” She shook her head, guilt spreading bitter across her tongue. “I hope your last fae royal survived the night.”

Jaxon’s eyes narrowed. “Mind your tone, Araya.”

He stepped closer, invading her space and cupping her chin in his hand. He tilted her head up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “You’re right though. It would be…inconvenient…if he died. Make a list of what you think he needs. I’ll approve it.”

“You will?” Araya stared at him. After all that—he’d just agreed?

“I will.” Jaxon grinned down at her, his dark eyes smoldering. “But don’t forget your manners, Starling.”

Araya froze, heat flooding her cheeks. Humiliation prickled under her skin, but she forced herself to stay still. She’d already pushed Jaxon too far—and if this was what it took to get Loren what he needed, then so be it.

“Thank you, Master Shaw,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” Jaxon smiled down at her, brushing a knuckle along her jaw. “That’s a start—now, go make sure he’s still breathing.”