Page 22

Chapter

Twenty-One

“It started with a theory,” Araya said. “I was researching the Shadowed Veil for Jaxon, and I noticed that every generation of fae royalty seemed to have someone with an affinity for shadow magic. It seemed to suggest that the shadows might not be an external force—something passed from king to prince.”

“I thought—” Araya faltered, swallowing hard as she forced herself to continue. “I told Jaxon that if we had access to royal fae blood, it might be possible to craft an amulet that would give the user the same sort of control.”

Serafina didn’t respond immediately, her focus narrowing on the deep gash running along Loren’s ribcage. Her hands hovered over it, golden light spilling from her fingertips, sinking into the torn flesh. The light moved like liquid, weaving the skin together until the edges finally met.

“Keep talking,” Serafina ordered.

“It was just a theory,” Araya said. “I never thought it would go beyond that. But then Jaxon—” she broke off, swallowing hard as her stomach twisted. “He brought me here, he showed me Loren?— ”

Serafina’s hands stilled, the golden glow of her magic sputtering out as her head snapped up. “ Loren ?” she demanded. “As in Prince Loren?”

Araya nodded once, not trusting her voice.

“Gods.” Serafina sat back on her heels, staring down at him. “How long has he been down here?”

“Twenty-five years,” Araya said softly. “I swear, Serafina, I didn’t know. When I told Jaxon my theory, I thought he was just… a dream. A figment of my imagination?—”

Serafina’s head snapped up. “What are you talking about?”

Araya swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists as the pull in her chest twisted tighter, sharp and urgent.” “I’ve seen him,” she said quietly. “I thought it was just… my mind playing tricks on me. But they’re not dreams, Serafina. They’re real.”

“How real?” Serafina demanded.

Araya shook her head, tears stinging her eyes as she stared down at Loren. “I’ve spoken to him, walked with him… He’s shown me things. Places that shouldn’t exist?—”

“Gods,” Serafina repeated, her voice weary. “Araya—have you told anyone else about this?”

“No—”

“Not Jaxon?” Serafina pressed. “His father? The baker? Anyone, Araya—have you told anyone but me about the dreams?”

“No,” Araya repeated, shaking her head quickly. “He—he told me not to tell anyone.”

Serafina exhaled, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, but her expression remained tense. “Good,” she said curtly, turning her attention back to Loren. “He was right. If they find out…”

Araya’s breath caught, her heart lurching. “Find out what?” she demanded. “Do you know why this is happening to me?”

Serafina didn’t respond immediately, her magic pulsing softly as it seeped into Loren’s torn skin. For a moment, she seemed entirely focused on her work, but then her eyes flicked to the door—the wavering silencing rune etched into the iron surface .

“We can’t talk about it here,” she said, her voice low. “Not right now. I swear, Araya, I’ll tell you what I know—but not here. Now—do you want to help him?”

“I do,” Araya said quickly. “Tell me what to do.”

“Then take his hand,” Serafina instructed, nodding toward Loren’s limp arm.

“What?” Araya blinked, her confusion deepening. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Serafina replied, her voice firm but not unkind. “Trust me, Araya. You both need this.”

Hesitant, Araya took Loren’s hand in hers. He was still so cold, so still—but something inside her quieted as they touched, soothed by their proximity. Araya wrapped her fingers around his, careful not to squeeze too hard.

“Good,” Serafina said, her hands still moving over Loren’s wounds. “Now…let your magic flow into him. Don’t force it—just let it happen.”

Araya hesitated, staring down at Loren’s limp hand in hers. Her magic—it belonged to Jaxon. Like everything else about her, it was his to direct, to use as he saw fit… but hadn’t he made it clear she was to do whatever was necessary to keep Loren alive?

“Close your eyes,” Serafina urged, her tone gentler this time, but still firm. “You’re overthinking it. Just breathe. Let it happen.”

Araya’s breath hitched, but she obeyed, closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath. Her magic stirred hesitantly beneath her skin, as if unsure of itself. But the moment her magic touched him?—

Warmth, spreading like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. Her heart spasmed in her chest, shuddering as the ice surrounding it thawed. The storm in her mind stilled, giving way to calm, still waters. Safe. She was safe. She was exactly where she belonged ? —

Araya opened her eyes, catching her breath as the shadows at the edge of the cell moved . They reached forward like restless fingers, flickering and curling as they twined around their joined hands.

“What—” Araya started, panicked.

“That’s perfect, Araya,” Serafina said softly. “Don’t stop.”

Araya knew she should press her, demand an explanation, but the warmth coursing through her dulled her urgency. Her magic flowed freely now, a stream of light flowing from her to him. The shadows wove around them both, a cool, gentle balm, and the pull in her chest softened into something gentler, steadier. Satisfied.

Loren’s chest rose and fell slightly more steadily, his features relaxing as if he, too, could feel the calm spreading between them. He didn’t stir, but Araya tightened her grip, as if holding on to him physically could keep him tethered to life.

“Good,” Serafina said. She moved to the next wound, her magic dimming briefly before flaring bright again. ““Don’t let go, Araya. He still needs more.”

Serafina worked in silence after that, glancing up occasionally to look from Araya’s face to their clasped hands. But whatever she had to say, she kept to herself. Araya’s magic continued to flow, the pull in her chest easing to a gentle tug that ebbed and flowed in time with the faint rise and fall of Loren’s chest.

Finally, Serafina sat back on her heels, the golden glow around her hands fading for the last time. The hum of her power quieted too, the silence of the cell broken by only Loren’s slow, even breaths. Still, Araya didn’t move. She sat beside Loren, his hand clasped in both of hers as she searched his face for a reassurance she couldn’t quite find.

“Is he going to be all right?” she asked finally, her voice small and broken, barely more than a whisper.

“He’s alive,” Serafina said after a long pause, her tone guarded. “You’ve given him a chance—but that’s all I can promise for now. Whoever did this?—”

“Hale,” Araya cut in, still staring at Loren’s face. “His name is Darian Hale. The High Inquisitor. He doesn’t approve of what Jaxon is doing… or of me.”

“Hale,” Serafina said. A flicker of something crossed her face, too quick for Araya to read it. “I’ve heard the name. The things they say about him…” She looked at Araya sharply. “Be careful, Araya. He’s not finished.”

Araya nodded faintly, her focus fixed on Loren’s pale, unmoving face. The pull in her chest had quieted into a faint thrum, her magic no longer flowing into him, but still she couldn’t bring herself to let go of his hand.

“Jaxon will…he’ll make sure Hale can’t get back in,” Araya murmured, her voice distant and hollow. She blinked, forcing herself to focus as she added, “I’ll make sure he does.”

Serafina studied her for a long moment, her expression softening as she crouched down beside her. “You’ve done everything you can for him right now. It’s time for us to go.”

“I know,” Araya whispered, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go.

“Araya,” Serafina repeated. “You need to stand up and come with me. Jaxon can’t see you like this.”

Jaxon—waiting. The thought was enough to give Araya the strength to loosen her grip on Loren’s hand. For the second time that day, Araya let herself to be pulled to her feet and guided away—against every instinct screaming at her to stay.

“Well?”

Jaxon leaned against the workbench, his arms crossed over his chest. But there was nothing casual about the sharp edge to his voice or the way his dark eyes raked over her before flicking to Serafina.

“He’s still unconscious,” Serafina said brusquely, toweling off her hands. Somehow, her crisp, blue Healer’s uniform was still pristine, while Araya felt like every inch of her skin was crusted with blood and dirt. “He’ll need to be assessed daily?—”

“Araya can handle that,” Jaxon waved her off.

Serafina’s eyes flashed. “Araya isn’t a Healer,” she snapped without missing a beat. “This is far beyond the scope of care either of you are equipped to provide. If you want him alive, you’ll allow me to monitor his progress.”

Araya risked a glance at Jaxon, her pulse stuttering at the faint tick in his jaw. He didn’t argue, but the silence dragged—his displeasure curling around her like a hand closing over her wrist.

“Fine,” he said at last, voice tight. “But only under strict supervision—following the same protocols as today.”

“Good.” Serafina exhaled through her nose, snapping her bag shut with a sharp click. She straightened, her shoulders stiff as her gaze flicked between Jaxon and Araya. “And I’m taking Araya back to the clinic with me.”

Araya started, her gaze jerking to Serafina, but Jaxon didn’t even hesitate.

“No.” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the workbench.

“She’s just been through a traumatic episode,” Serafina snapped. “You’ve already wrung her dry. She needs to be observed?—”

“Her place is with me,” Jaxon interrupted, his lip curling slightly as he stared Serafina down. “I can manage my own bond.”

“She’s not something to be managed .” Serafina squared her shoulders. “She’s exhausted, Jaxon. If you push her any further, she’ll break—and then what? You’ll trade her in for someone else?”

Araya flinched at Serafina’s tone, but Jaxon just tilted his head, staring at her.

“You’ve always thought poorly of me,” he said, sneering. “And you underestimate her. Araya knows her limits. Don’t you, Starling?”

Araya’s heart stuttered as they both looked at her. Serafina’s face was set, her eyes pleading with Araya to take the out—but Jaxon’s sharp gaze was expectant. If Jaxon felt like she was choosing Serafina over him ? —

“I’ll stay,” Araya said. She forced herself to smile at Serafina, adding, “It’s fine. I want to stay with Jaxon.” The words sat heavy on her tongue, thick as tar, but she could force them out—that alone should be enough to reassure Serafina. Araya didn’t need to be saved—Jaxon was her bond. He would never hurt her.

Jaxon’s smirk widened—a flicker of triumph flashing in his dark eyes.

"We’re done here." Jaxon didn’t even look at Serafina as he nodded to the guards. “Escort her out.”