Page 3

Chapter

Two

Araya stood in front of her battered wardrobe, staring at her reflection in the cloudy mirror. Her meager assortment of dresses hung in a limp, somber line, picked for function rather than style. She ran her fingers over the frayed edges of a pale blue dress, pulling it free. Once, it might have been considered elegant. Now, after countless mendings and adjustments, it looked as tired as she felt.

She sighed, tossing the dress onto the growing pile of rejected options on her neat, narrow bed. Everything she owned felt wrong for this—too plain and too worn. There just weren’t many occasions when a halfblood needed a nice dress. It wasn’t every day she had to beg the man who left her to risk his status to help her keep what little freedom she had left.

Araya reached for her braid, unwinding the ribbon at the end and slowly unraveling it. Deep red waves cascaded over her shoulders, fading into violet as they spilled down her back. She stared at her reflection, her silver eyes stark against the riot of color framing her face. Her stomach churned at the idea of stepping outside like this, on Dominion Day, no less. But Jaxon had told her to wear it down…he’d always loved her hair .

She gathered her hair in her hands, twisting it back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. It wasn’t exactly what Jaxon had requested, but it was more than her usual braid. A compromise…Jaxon had never been good at those. Araya picked up a hairpin, biting her lip as she slid it into place.

“You should wear it down,” Serafina said softly from the doorway.

Araya turned, startled by the sadness in Serafina’s voice. But her questions caught in her throat when she saw the shimmering silver gown draped across Serafina’s arms.

“Is that your mother’s dress?” Araya asked, the hairpin slipping from her fingers.

Serafina nodded, her green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Serafina…” Araya trailed off, brushing her fingers over the delicate fabric.

She remembered Serafina’s mother—warm and quick-witted, even after she’d gotten sick. Even though they had only spoken a handful of times, Araya had felt her absence like a ghost when Serafina invited her to move into the house with her.

“I can’t take this,” she said. “It’s one of the only things you have left of her?—”

“She would want you to wear it,” Serafina interrupted. “She’d understand everything you’re doing—even if I don’t. I shouldn’t have argued with you—you were right. It’s not my place to judge your relationship with Jaxon.”

The weight of her friend’s words pressed against Araya’s chest, tightening her throat.

“Thank you,” she said when she finally managed to find her voice again. “For understanding.”

Araya stood still as Serafina helped her slip into the gown, the gossamer fabric settling over her like a second skin. Impossibly light and soft, it was unlike anything she had ever worn.

Serafina smoothed the gown over Araya’s shoulders, her hands lingering as though to steady them both. Then, with deliberate care, she reached for the pins in Araya’s hair. One by one, she pulled them free, letting the heavy waves tumble loose.

“You should wear it down,” Serafina said again. “You deserve to enjoy yourself tonight. And the… safety Jaxon offers.”

Araya inhaled sharply as she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. She hardly recognized the female staring back at her. The silver gown made her eyes glow like molten quicksilver, and her unbound hair framed her face in wild waves of flame and shadow. She looked more like a fae princess than a halfblood mage.

Their gazes met in the mirror, and Araya’s breath hitched at the raw emotion etched into Serafina’s face. The sadness was there, threaded through with fear, but it wasn’t the fear of judgment or disapproval—it was the fear of losing her.

Serafina’s fingers traced the delicate embroidery near the neckline, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I do understand, you know,” she said quietly. “That you’re just trying to survive. I just want to make sure you can live with what you feel like you have to do.”

Araya turned, her throat suddenly tight.

“Serafina…” Her voice faltered. She wrapped her arms tightly around her friend, holding on harder and longer than she usually would.

“It’s just dinner,” she murmured, but the words felt thin and hollow.

Serafina just hugged her tighter. “I’ll be here when you need me,” she whispered. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled against Araya’s back. And when she stepped away, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Be safe.”

“You too,” Araya whispered as the door clicked closed behind her best friend.

It felt like a crime to put her ragged, threadbare cloak on over a dress like this. Fortunately, it was warm enough that she didn’t really need a cloak if she was going to be with Jaxon. Like he’d said—he’d keep her safe .

Still, she shivered when she stepped outside, the night air brushing over her bare skin, leaving her raw and exposed.

But she bravely lifted the skirt of the dress to avoid stepping on the hem as she descended the stairs, making her way over to where Jaxon leaned against the carriage, absently picking at his nails with a knife. He frowned down at his fingers, the blade catching the lamplight, but his eyes lit up when he saw Araya. He tucked the blade away, a slow smile spreading across his face as he straightened and strode toward her.

“Perfect,” he murmured, dragging his gaze over her. His smile deepened as his hand slid down her side, lingering at her waist before his palm finally settled at the small of her back, drawing her closer even as she tensed.

“Still mad at me?” he asked lightly, like it was a private joke instead of an open wound. “Can’t say I blame you. But we both know this is exactly where you were always meant to be.”

Araya forced a tight smile. It didn’t matter that he’d shattered her heart three years ago—he was the only chance she had left.

So she let Jaxon guide her forward, so focused on the hem of her dress and not tripping as he helped her into the carriage that she didn’t notice the man already seated inside until she was halfway through the door.

She froze. A rabbit before a predator. Every instinct screaming at her to run. But Jaxon’s hand pressed firm against her back, unyielding.

“Get in,” he ordered.

Her feet obeyed before her mind caught up. She sank onto the bench opposite High Magister Garrick Shaw, the celebrated Architect of the New Dominion, the highest ranking member of the Arcanum—and Jaxon Shaw’s father.

Garrick didn’t look up from the stack of parchment in his hands, even when Jaxon slid into the seat beside him and the carriage lurched into motion. He ignored them both completely—as if they were little more than an afterthought he’d attend to once his real work was done.

Araya didn’t dare break the silence, but Jaxon only smirked when she caught his eye, maddeningly unbothered.

So she folded her hands in her lap, curling her fingers into the silk of her borrowed gown to still their shaking, and waited for the man who had written the laws she was now trapped beneath to finally acknowledge her.

By the time Garrick Shaw finally looked up, Araya’s heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear her own thoughts.

“You must be Araya Starwind,” he said, setting his papers aside at last. “Jaxon has told me a great deal about you.”

“High Magister.” Araya dipped her head, glad neither man could hear her thundering heart as the carriage jolted over the uneven cobblestones. “I’m sorry—I didn’t?—”

She trailed off helplessly, staring accusingly at Jaxon. He just grinned at her, his expression lazy and satisfied as she squirmed under his father’s scrutiny. Araya looked away, forcing herself to meet Garrick’s eyes instead—a mistake. His sharp brown eyes lacked any of Jaxon’s easy warmth, pinning her in place as he dissected her with cold, calculating intent.

His lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile at her unease, a gesture so small it sent a shiver down her spine. Without dropping her gaze, he flicked his fingers, his signet ring glowing as the stack of parchment lifted off his lap and arranged itself into a neat pile on the seat beside him.

Araya stared at the ring—an amplifier, no doubt. Custom made, powerful. He hadn’t even thought twice about using power for something so mundane. Meanwhile, the fae in the districts measured every drop of aether like it might be their last .

“Your friend seems stunned into silence,” Garrick said, glancing at his son.

“I didn’t warn her,” Jaxon said with a laugh. “I thought it would be fun to surprise her.”

“Jaxon,” Araya hissed, heat crawling up her neck to her cheeks.

He just leaned back, drumming his fingers idly on the leather bench as he grinned at her. “I love watching you think on your feet, Starling. You never disappoint me.”

Garrick’s smile deepened just a fraction. “Jaxon, you’ll give the poor girl a heart attack.” He shook his head, glancing at her apologetically.

“My apologies, Araya. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “But when my son finally brings someone to my table, I do like to meet them face to face. Especially someone so…important to him.”

His pause before important hung in the air like a blade, pressing unseen against her ribs.

“It’s no trouble, sir,” she said at last, her voice thin but steady enough. “I was just surprised. It’s an honor to meet you.” The words spilled out too quickly, betraying her nerves.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jaxon’s grin widen, but it did nothing to steady her fraying composure. Her focus remained on Garrick, the man who could shape—or shatter—her future with a single word.

“Araya was helping one of our Healers in Ravonfar,” Jaxon said when no one else spoke. “Serafina Hart—she runs the community clinic in North Bend. Araya helps her with maternity rounds in Ravonfar several times a month.”

Araya glanced at him, startled that he would know that. Serafina hadn’t started dragging her along on maternity rounds until after he’d left, using them as a convenient way to force Araya out of her bed and into the world.

Garrick’s eyebrows rose. “An unusual pastime. Do you not find your work at the Aetherium fulfilling?”

“I do,” she said carefully, proud that her voice didn’t shake. This was no simple question—it was a test. “I’m very grateful to the Arcanum for giving me the opportunity to work. I’ve simply always enjoyed helping others in my spare time.”

Safe. Neutral. She clung to the words like a shield, but even as she spoke them, she knew they wouldn’t be enough.

Garrick tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if he could see straight through her. “Because you’re three-quarters fae,” he said, his tone devoid of any inflection that might hint at approval or disapproval. “I remember when we approved your waiver. But you’ve started cycling now?”

“Yes, sir,” Araya whispered. “I reported it—I’ve been waiting for the Arcanum’s decision.”

“Which we delayed while we considered Jaxon’s petition.” Garrick sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “I see we’ve caused you no small amount of anxiety. Bureaucracy, I’m afraid, is a beast we just cannot seem to slay.”

His petition ? Araya’s eyes flicked to Jaxon, searching for an answer. But his easy charm had vanished, leaving behind an expression she couldn’t read.

“Let me put you at ease,” the High Magister said—though the glint in his eye suggested he expected the opposite. “My son has requested to acquire your bond from the Arcanum. Do you understand what this entails?”

“I do,” Araya managed to say. She twisted her fingers together, darting another desperate gaze toward Jaxon, but he didn’t meet her eye. Instead, he jumped to his feet as soon as the carriage lurched to a stop.

“I’ll take care of things inside,” he said, not even bothering to look back before the door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with the High Magister.

“You can, of course, decline,” Garrick said when she just stared at him, the silence stretching a moment too long. He smiled—almost kindly. “If you do, there will be no consequences. No one will punish you. I’ll simply tell Jaxon it was my decision. ”

His fingers drummed idly on the stack of papers. “The Magisters are very aware of how some of our mages abuse their power, pressuring our fae wards into… arrangements. This is your choice—we would never condone coercion.”

Araya swallowed hard, her pulse thundering in her ears. It was a trap—laid with silk instead of steel, but a trap all the same. This was the price of escaping the fate that other females suffered.

“No,” she said. “I—I’m accepting. I was just… surprised. Jaxon and I haven’t spoken since he left for Elvanfal.”

“I’m afraid that may have been my fault,” Garrick’s expression softened, and for a heartbeat Araya saw a flash of Jaxon in him.

“I’ll admit, I was less than thrilled by his interest in you during his apprenticeship.” Garrick’s lips twitched, leaving no doubt in Araya’s mind that he knew exactly what that interest had entailed. “I had him assigned to Elvanfal to give you the chance to make your own decision. It was the fairest thing to do, given the circumstances.”

Araya stared at him, words failing her. He said it like breaking her heart had been some sort of calculated kindness. Did he know how lost she had been? How hurt? She didn’t doubt it—after all, he knew everything else about her.

“But he was determined, so I followed your career—You’ve truly proven yourself these past years, Araya.” Garrick smiled, ignoring her turmoil. “It’s an excellent match for you. Jaxon is a highly regarded Commander, on track to become a Magister himself. His children will have position—power. Names that open doors you’ve never even seen."

Araya nodded numbly, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

“You will, of course, cease visiting the fae slums,” Garrick continued, picking his papers back up and shuffling through them. “Your duties to Jaxon come first. Your place is by his side. In his bed. Not tending to the less fortunate.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, her voice wooden as the words settled over her like chains. “I understand.”

“Good,” he said, settling back against the bench with a satisfied smile. “I’ll make it official then—” he glanced at his son as the door swung open and Jaxon stepped back into the carriage. “Congratulations, Jaxon.”

Jaxon grinned, his triumphant gaze landing on Araya as he offered her his hand, his grip firm and possessive as he helped her to her feet. “I knew she’d make the right decision.”

“Araya, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Garrick said as Jaxon helped her to the ground. “Enjoy your Dominion Day.”

“Thank you, sir,” Araya murmured, dipping her head as the carriage rolled away into the night.

Jaxon’s arm coiled around her waist, his fingers pressing into her hip. “Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing the scarred edge of her ear. “That was the hard part.”

“Was it?” Araya asked, her heart still pounding with adrenaline. “What happens now?”

Jaxon chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “Now we celebrate, Starling.”