Page 23

Chapter

Twenty-Two

Araya’s hands trembled as she pressed the bone blank into its setting. The ivory disc had to fit perfectly. One slip, one miscalculation, and the entire thing would be ruined. They’d already lost more than a week making sure Loren didn’t die—long enough for Jaxon’s precious timeline to slip, and the silence between them to shift into something cold and threatening.

She inhaled slowly, steadying her grip on the dropper of Loren’s blood as she touched it to the ivory surface. The carved runes there pulsed, drinking in the first drops with greedy hunger. A novice would be tempted to flood them, mistaking enthusiasm for strength—but Araya knew better. Move too fast, and the entire structure would fracture—just like everything else in her life right now.

So instead she counted the slow pulses of power, holding her breath as she waited?—

“Be careful,” Jaxon said, his voice dangerously close to her ear.

Araya flinched, her power flaring at his proximity. She cursed, trying to pull it back—but the blank flared white hot and split, a jagged shard biting deep into her palm .

“We don’t have room for error.” Jaxon sighed, shaking his head as she cradled her wounded hand against her chest.

“No, we don’t,” she snapped, turning to fumble for a bandage in the first aid kit. “So maybe don’t distract me.”

But Jaxon caught her wrist. “Let me,” he said.

He drew her in without waiting for permission, inspecting the wound with a critical eye. “Shouldn’t need stitches,” he said. Then, with almost unsettling gentleness, he dabbed away the blood, wrapping it tightly.

“Serafina is still refusing to let us collect any more blood,” he said, his lip curling.

“Because he’s recovering from almost dying,” Araya said, snatching her hand back. The pain was nothing compared to the slow boil of frustration in her chest.

Jaxon hadn’t let her anywhere near Loren since agreeing to Serafina’s terms. Instead, he’d insisted on escorting the Healer himself, standing over her in silent judgement as she worked.

Serafina hadn’t been pleased by that—but Jaxon made sure she was never truly alone with Araya either, lingering just close enough that they couldn’t speak freely.

“He’s been conscious for days,” Jaxon said. “If Serafina would stop coddling him, we could actually move forward. It’s not like he’s doing much in there.” He picked up a piece of scrap from the workbench, rolling it between his fingers. “Are you done stalling now?”

“I’m being thorough.” Araya retorted, picking up another blank. “Like you said—no room for error.”

A heavy silence settled between them as she adjusted the next setting, carefully controlling the slow siphon of aether into the blank. The pulse of magic steadied, soft and thrumming beneath her fingers. This one would hold.

She slid it across the workbench, joining the two completed sets. They were beautiful—perfect, even. Some of her best work. And yet, it felt like she’d carved something away from herself when she made them .

“You’re trembling, Starling,” Jaxon murmured. “Is something wrong?”

Everything . “Something is always wrong,” she muttered, packing away her tools.

“Careful, Starling.” Araya flinched, startled to find him right behind her. “I’m finding myself at the limits of what I’m willing to tolerate—even from you.”

His hand wrapped around her hip, pinning her against the workbench.

"Go ahead and ask me the question you want to ask," he whispered, his breath tickling the sensitive ridge of scar tissue on her ear. "Ask me why I’m keeping you away from him."

Araya gritted her teeth, the edge of the workbench biting into her hips as Jaxon pressed against her back, not giving her room to turn in face him.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Why won’t you let me see him? You argued with the Arcanum for weeks for me to have access?—”

"Because you made me." Jaxon’s thumb traced lazy, circles over her hip, his breath hot on the back of her neck. "You ran to him—wept for him. Begged for him.” His grip tightened. “How do you expect me to trust you alone with him after that?”

Araya twisted in Jaxon’s grip, only managing to face him because he let her. “That’s not fair.”

He leaned in, invading her space. “Isn’t it? Tell me, Starling—if I had been the one lying there, bleeding out, would you have held me the way you held him?”

“That’s not—” Araya swallowed hard. “It wasn’t like that.”

Jaxon’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “No?”

“You know I can’t lie,” Araya protested. She shoved at his chest. “Let me go.”

“Not out loud,” Jaxon acknowledged. He tilted his head slightly, studying her like she was some kind of riddle he meant to solve. Finally he shrugged, releasing her. “The prince won’t say a word about who nearly killed him—which means I can’t have Hale sanctioned.”

Araya braced herself against the workbench, her knees shaking as she hugged her arms around herself. “Why would he protect Hale?”

“Oh—he’s protecting someone ,” Jaxon snorted, although there was no humor on his face. “But everyone he ever cared about is dead…unless it’s someone new.” His eyes lingered on her, dark and accusing.

“I haven’t given him any reason to care about me,” Araya protested.

Not wanting him to die a terrible and painful death didn’t mean she cared for him—not like that. She’d dumped out her tea every night this week, desperate for even a glimpse of him—but Loren hadn’t visited her dreams since Garrick’s birthday. Whatever had linked them—if it had ever been real—was gone.

“I told you—” Her voice cracked, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs that it felt like it might burst. “You’re the only man I’ve ever touched. The only man I’ve ever slept with. The only man I’ve ever?—”

She caught herself too late, her breath hitching as she snapped her mouth shut on the word.

“Loved?” Jaxon finished for her, tilting his head curiously. “Do you love me, Starling?”

Araya’s heart twisted. She hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t even meant to think it. But it hung in the air between them now, impossible to take back.

“Yes.” She choked on the confession. “Even now—when you question my loyalty every time I turn around.”

For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—a shadow of the boy who had laughed with her, had promised her a future at his side. But that boy vanished in an instant, overshadowed by the cold, calculating stranger who stood before her now .

“That’s sweet, Starling,” he murmured. “But I don’t need your love.”

Araya caught her breath, dropping her hand as if burned. She blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes—but Jaxon saw them.

His thumb brushed across her cheek, catching the fat tear she couldn’t stop with a tenderness at odds with the grim set of his expression.

“Don’t take it personally, Starling.” He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Love doesn’t change the world. But your loyalty? Your power? Those are the things we’ll build our legacy on.”

Araya swallowed against the ache in her throat, hating herself for wanting to lean into that touch.

“And what happens to me when you’ve gotten everything you need from me?” Her voice trembled, despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

“Is that what you’re so worried about?” Jaxon’s low voice curled around her like smoke, soft and suffocating. “That I’ll cast you aside?”

He stepped forward, pressing his lips to her temple as he gathered her into his arms.

“Let me make something clear, Starling,” he murmured. “No one—not the Arcanum and not some half-mad fae prince—will ever take you from me.”

Araya’s breath hitched, her pulse thundering in her ears. “And if I choose to leave?”

“You won’t,” Jaxon said, laughing.

Araya should have left it there—but hurt and anger made her foolish. “But if I did?”

“Then I’d find you and bring you back.” Jaxon’s fingers tangled in her hair, his grip tightening just enough to make her breath hitch. “And if you refused to come?”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Then I would burn your world to the ground and take you from the ashes. You’re mine, Starling. You always have been, and you always will be.”

He paused, his breath hot against her skin. “Now—say it again.”

Araya shuddered as her magic flared again at his command, rising unbidden like a pulse beneath her skin. Part of her wanted to spit in his face—to deny it and claw back some tiny shred of dignity. But her magic wouldn’t let her lie—and maybe, in this moment, that was the cruelest thing of all.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking like glass in her chest.

Shame burned beneath her ribs—shame at the relief she felt, knowing the lengths he would go to keep her. Maybe he didn’t love her. But hadn’t she told Serafina she didn’t have the luxury of love? This wasn’t about feelings. It was about survival. And even if he didn’t love her, he chose her.

“And that’s how I know you’ll never leave me.” Jaxon closed the distance between them, his hand tightening at the back of her neck as he claimed her mouth.

There was nothing tender about it—it was a declaration, a mark of ownership. His fingers dug into her flesh, but she couldn’t pull away. Instead, her body leaned into his touch, answering to the connection between them like he hadn’t just shattered her heart.

Araya was breathing hard when he finally pulled back, her whole body taut with a confusing blend of desire and panic. Jaxon smiled down at her, stroking his thumb along her jaw one more time before he finally stepped back, smoothing down his shirt like nothing had happened.

“Now,” he said. “Let’s get back to work.”

Araya tugged on her gloves, her boots scraping against the uneven cobblestones as she led them toward Ravonfar. Jaxon hadn’t even let them go home before dragging her out to test the amulets—but at least he’d listened when she told him to park the carriage a street away, well out of sight.

She’d hoped that leaving it behind would give them some anonymity. But Jaxon, as always, commanded attention. It wasn’t just that he was human—it was the cut of his tailored coat, the way he walked with his head held high. He didn’t need his name or a black carriage to mark him as powerful—he didn’t even need to speak. He simply was .

There was nothing to be done about it now. They would just have to get through this as best they could. Araya shifted her bag to the other shoulder, pulling her identification papers from the front pocket of her cloak.

“Hood back,” the guard barked, but he made no move to take the packet from her bandaged hand.

“I recognize that hair,” he said instead, sneering. “There’s no maternity clinic tonight, halfblood. You don’t have authorization to be here without your little midwife friend. Unless you wanted to give up more power?—”

“We’re not here for a clinic.” Jaxon pushed his own hood back, even though no one had asked him to. “Are you in the habit of imposing arbitrary restrictions on fae who wear the Arcanum’s Eye?”

“I—” The guard stammered, glancing between them. “Since when do you wear an Eye?”

Araya hooked her thumb through the chain, pulling the distinctive amulet out from beneath her cloak.

“She was awarded it when she became my bond,” Jaxon said, watching the guard squirm with a disinterested expression. “Which you’d have known—if you’d bothered to glance at her papers before you tried to take what belongs to me.”

“And who are you?” The guard managed to recover some of his composure, flushing an impressive dark red as he straightened.

“Master Jaxon Shaw," he said pleasantly. “Commander for the Arcanum. On official business under the authority of High Magister Garrick Shaw—my father." He let the words hang in the air, arching an eyebrow as he stared at the guard. “Do you need to write that down?”

The guard’s mouth opened, then snapped shut as the color drained from his face. “N-no, sir. Of course not.”

Araya hadn’t meant to enjoy it, but she couldn’t help the flicker of satisfaction as the man fumbled with the gate, the clang of metal against metal echoing through the silent street as he scrambled to unlock it. Last time, he’d drained her without a second thought, confident that neither she nor Serafina would dare report him. This time, he didn’t even dare to look at her. Not with Jaxon standing at her shoulder.

“You know,” Araya murmured once they were through the gate, her voice low enough that only Jaxon could hear. “You could have just given him your name and avoided the theatrics.”

Jaxon’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “But then you wouldn’t have gotten to watch him scramble.”

Araya laughed despite herself, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like they were them again—the way they used to be. Jaxon’s smirk softened into a smile, his fingers sliding between hers as Araya brushed her thumb over the back of his hand, leaning into his warmth.

He’d come back for her. Fought for her. Defended her.

Because she was his. No one else got to take her power. No one else got to touch her—not unless he allowed it. He’d made that clear, over and over again.

This tension between them—it was just the project, the pressure of the Arcanum’s oversight. Once this was over, they would go back to what they’d been. She just needed to endure it a little longer.

But the farther they walked, the more oppressive the silence became. Occasionally, Araya caught a glimpse of movement—nothing more than the twitch of a curtain or the flash of a shadow darting into an alley—but no one stepped out or even allowed themselves to be seen .

They were afraid. Not of her—but of the man beside her.

Jaxon strolled at an easy pace, surveying the desolate streets with the calculating confidence of a predator taking stock of its territory. He didn’t seem bothered by their fear—if anything, he reveled in it, feeding something cold and sharp beneath his charming exterior.

“Are all of the fae districts like this?” he asked.

“Some are worse than others,” Araya replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She tried to ignore the tension knotting in her stomach as they passed a boarded window where she could have sworn she’d seen eyes peeking out, watching them. “Ravonfar is closest to the Veil—the mist is blamed for a lot of the ills here.”

“Which is exactly what we need,” Jaxon said, his voice jarringly cheerful.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

The temperature plummeted as they walked through the empty streets, and by the time black glass crunched under their boots, Araya could see her breath in the air. She shivered beneath her heavy cloak, picking a careful path across the shards to where the mist crept over the shoreline, clinging to the waves.

“Incredible,” Jaxon breathed, staring out at the churning wall of darkness. “Look at the density—the motion. The mist must be blowing inland, which means it can be physically influenced?—”

He dug into his bag, rummaging through it. “This has to be one of the points where it comes closest to the shore. The rate of dispersion here—” he emerged with a small brass instrument, kneeling to take a measurement. “If we could isolate this…”

He trailed off, eyes fixed on the churning dark beyond the shoreline. The excitement in his voice had shifted—brighter now, almost reverent. “Just imagine what we could learn.”

Araya turned away, focusing on her own task. She unfolded the legs of her portable workbench, making sure it sat steady on the uneven, glass-littered ground. The cold bit at her hands even through her gloves, her bandaged palm throbbing with every motion—but she kept going, carefully arranging the boxes holding each amulet on it.

“Do you see how the shadows move along the surface of the water?” Jaxon asked, pulling her attention back to him. “It’s almost like they’re tethered—unable to break free entirely. And yet, here on the shore, they’re more exploratory—and look, they like you.”

Araya glanced down at the misty tendrils curling around her boots—the same way Loren’s shadows had twined around her hands. “Maybe they’re curious.”

“They don’t frighten you?” Jaxon tucked his pencil behind his ear. “You said they make fae sick.”

“People say they make fae sick,” Araya corrected. “There are a lot of problems here—poverty, poor living conditions, magic rationing suppressing fae immune systems…I doubt the mist is the whole of the story. Addressing it is only a first step if the Arcanum really intends to help the fae?—”

“One thing at a time, Starling.” Jaxon cut her off with a chuckle. “Let’s tame the shadows first. Then you can save the world.”

He stepped over to the portable workbench, removing the first of the amulets from its warded box. The silver housing gleamed faintly, cradling the bone disc Araya had painstakingly inscribed and then imbued with Loren’s blood.

“It’s beautiful work, Starling,” he murmured, voice almost reverent. “Let’s see if it’s functional.”

Araya stood frozen, her bandaged hand curled tightly in her cloak as he moved toward the edge of the obsidian shore. He held the amulet out toward the writhing mist, his focus narrowing as he channeled the magic she had sealed inside—Loren’s magic.

The reaction was immediate. The shadows surged forward—then recoiled, hissing as the amulet flared. Mist twisted violently, the air thick with the rising hiss of a hundred voices whispering over each other, chaotic and sharp .

“It’s responding,” Jaxon said, his voice taut with excitement. “It’s actually?—”

The bone disc cracked. A clean fracture split it down the center, the pieces dropping from the blackened housing with a hiss of smoke.

“—working,” Jaxon finished bitterly, his jaw tightening. He turned the shards over once, then flung them to the ground in disgust. “Give me the next one.”

Araya fumbled the second amulet free, her gloves stiff with cold, fingers trembling as she passed it to him. Jaxon snatched it from her hands and turned back to the shore.

She held her breath as he activated it. The runes flared bright against the dark, their light sharp and clear. The mist surged again—then froze, held at bay. For a moment, it worked. The shadows writhed and twisted, slowing as if caught in a current they couldn’t escape.

Then the amulet flared white hot, the scent of burning flesh cutting through the air.

“Damn it,” Jaxon cursed, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers as a line of blistered flesh bloomed across his palm. “Give me the next?—”

“You’re burned,” Araya said, tugging off her gloves to take his hand in hers. “Slow down, Jaxon. We don’t have to race?—”

“We have to show progress,” he snapped, snatching his hand away. “And this? This isn’t progress. It’s a waste of time, bone, and blood.”

“It’s our first test,” Araya said quietly. “We always knew there’d be variables. This was theoretical?—”

“Just give me the last one, Araya.” Jaxon exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as he stared out at the waves.

Araya bit her lip, opening the last warded case. But her hands, stiff from the cold, fumbled the amulet. She lunged to catch it without thinking, hissing in pain as blood welled through the bandage across her palm .

“ No —” Araya gasped, staring in horror as her blood bloomed across the delicate etchings she’d spent days perfecting. The bone drank it in eagerly—mixing her essence with the aether they’d distilled from Loren’s blood. Ruining it.

All that work, and she’d undone it with a single mistake.

“What did you do?” Jaxon demanded.

“I’m sorry—” Araya blurted, her voice shaking. “I can—I can imbue a new blank. I just need time?—”

“No, Starling,” Jaxon said, his voice shaking with excitement. “ Look .”

Araya looked up, catching her breath as she followed his gaze.

The shadows had stopped moving. The tendrils that had been writhing and surging just moments ago now swayed gently, every one of them turned toward her .

“It’s your blood,” Jaxon said, plucking the amulet from her hand. He stared down at it, his voice a mix of wonder and calculation. “You didn’t ruin it, Starling. You fixed it.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Araya protested. “It’s not—no, Jaxon, wait?—”

Araya reached out, but Jaxon was already channeling power into the amulet. The runes flared to life, brighter than they had with any of the previous tests. The tendrils of shadow shifted, curling toward Jaxon as if drawn to him. He raised his hand, and the shadows responded instantly, coiling around his arm in a sinuous, controlled motion.

He moved his hand experimentally, and the shadows followed his commands, twisting and writhing in perfect sync with his gestures. He laughed, his delight palpable as he turned to Araya, his dark eyes gleaming.

“Do you see this, Starling?” he asked, his voice brimming with exhilaration. “It’s responding—obeying. We’ve done it.”

Araya watched him, her chest tight with dread as the shadows swirled around him. “Are you going to dispel them now? ”

“Dispel them?” Jaxon asked absently, his gaze never wavering from the swirling shadows swirling.

“For the fae here,” Araya said. “Remember?”

Jaxon blinked, his gaze finally lifting to hers. “Starling?—”

But the runes on the amulet sputtered, the entire thing emitting a faint whine as they went out one by one. The shadows fell away, spreading back out into their natural pattern as Jaxon’s influence over them vanished.

“Damn.” Jaxon sighed, staring down at the depleted amulet. “That wasn’t very long at all.”

“We knew it wouldn’t be.” Araya wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the sting in her throat. “That’s why you should have dispelled them immediately?—”

He glanced at her, puzzled, then gave a soft huff of laughter. “Why waste it on scraps?” he said. “We can make more—and better ones. With whole bone next time, not just blanks.”

“But—” Araya started to protest, but Jaxon kept talking over her.

“And now we know it works.” Jaxon held up the cracked amulet, staring at it with open awe. “Your blood changes the reaction. That kind of resonance? It opens up at least a dozen new configurations. I need to test more combinations—your aether, Loren’s blood, maybe even direct contact with the shadows?—”

“You’re not hearing me,” Araya said, a chill rolling down her spine. “The people here—they need the Arcanum to help them?—”

“And we will.” Jaxon turned to her fully now, the edge of frustration sharpening his smile. “Once we’ve perfected it—not before.” He reached for her, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. “This is bigger than Ravonfar, Starling. We made progress here tonight. Real progress. With Loren’s blood—and yours—we’re one step closer to controlling the Shadowed Veil. You’re as important as he is now—maybe even more so.”

Araya caught her breath. She had no doubt Jaxon meant the words as a praise—she should have felt honored, validated…but after seeing what had happened to Loren? It felt more like a warning .

“We’re going to change everything, Starling.” Jaxon’s smile widened as he stepped closer, cupping her face in his hands and pressing a kiss to her parted lips. “You and me—together. No one will be able to stop us.”

Araya forced a tight smile. “Together,” she echoed, willing herself to believe it.