Page 31

Chapter

Thirty

The jagged cliffs of Eluneth loomed above them, rising from the mist like the spine of some long-dead beast. Sunlight barely pierced the dense fog, the few rays that struggled through revealing only deadened rock and brittle, colorless vegetation.

Loren couldn’t even see the castle. He wouldn’t have believed this was the same place he’d grown up visiting if not for the stone steps that zigzagged up the cliff face.

The last time he’d climbed them had been with his father—just before he left for Aetheris. The sun had blazed overhead, and the shadows had curled around them to shield them from the heat. They’d brushed through Loren’s hair and wrapped around his arms in greeting, familiar and warm.

They recognize the heir , his father had said, smiling at him.

If he’d lived, how heartbroken would he be to see those same shadows reject his son now? To see Eluneth rotting—strangled by the very power the Goddess had given them to protect it—while Loren stood by, unable to stop it.

“Are you trying to make her hate you? ”

Thorne stalked across the deck, stepping up beside him. “You can’t just lock her up, Loren. She’s your mate, not your prisoner.”

Loren said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared fixedly at the shrouded cliffs.

“You’re going to lose her,” Thorne snapped. “And it won’t be because of Jaxon Shaw. It’ll be because you pushed her too far—and she doesn’t want to come back.”

“Maybe that would be for the best.” Loren stared down at his hands, white-knuckled on the rail. “She could leave—build something real. Something better.”

The wood groaned, splinters biting into his palms, but he welcomed the pain. If he could just feel enough of it, maybe it would drown out the things he didn’t want to think about. “Goddess knows, she doesn’t deserve to be shackled to me. I’m not the male I was supposed to be.”

“Loren…” Thorne didn’t sound angry now. He just sounded tired. “You’re not fixing anything by hating yourself. You don’t deserve to be punished.”

Except he did deserve it.

Jaxon Shaw’s face flashed unbidden in his mind. The Shaws had taken everything from her—her choices, her name, her magic, her freedom—and now Loren had done the same. He’d used their connection to escape, compelled her with her true name, drugged her, torn her away from the only world she knew…

And then he’d locked her up.

It didn’t matter that he’d done it all to keep her safe. His intentions didn’t erase the hurt he’d caused her. They didn’t make him any better for her than Jaxon Shaw.

Guilt twisted in his chest, self-loathing bitter on his tongue.

He was free. After twenty-five years in iron—huddled in the dark and forgotten by the world—he could finally feel the wind on his face. He stood just steps away from a place where the New Dominion held no power. A place where he was still a prince, not a prisoner.

But none of it mattered .

His mate hated him. The magic that should have answered him—the legacy he’d been born to—had recoiled from him in disgust. The land he was meant to rule lay crumbling and abandoned, soaked in shadow and rot. The Goddess’s gift, squandered. His birthright, denied.

And his parents were gone.

His father, who had stood by with pride in his eyes as the shadows claimed him heir. His mother, who had kissed his forehead the day he left for Aetheris like he was still a boy. His sister, forced to take his place when she was only a child—another person he had failed to protect.

Maybe the shadows were right to reject him.

“We should get up to the castle,” Thorne said after a long moment. “Eloria moved the seat of governance to Lumaria years ago, but she kept the whisperstone maintained so anyone who needs shelter can contact the remnant government from Ithralis?—”

“I guess we qualify,” Loren said bitterly. “Some prince I make.”

“She never stopped believing you were alive, you know,” Thorne said quietly, giving Loren a long look. “Your people—they’re going to be overjoyed to see you returned. You still have people who love you, Loren. Even if you can’t see that right now. Don’t you think it’s worth showing Araya that version of you?”

Loren watched the fog writhe over the rocks, smothering the tiny flame of hope Thorne’s words had sparked before it could catch fire. Araya had never had a chance to be free—not really. Not in any life that had been hers alone. She deserved more than to be shackled to him by magic and duty.

“Take her up to Ithralis,” he said. “Get her settled in one of the guest rooms—make sure she has everything she needs. But don’t let her wander.”

“You’ll take her up yourself,” Thorne snapped. “And explain things to her. Maybe consider apologizing?—”

Loren shook his head. “I’m not coming.”

Thorne’s jaw tightened. “Where else would you go? Eloria is going to drop everything and come running as soon as we contact her?—”

“Then tell her I’m going to see our parents.” Loren vaulted over the rail, landing lightly on the dock.

“You can’t.” For a moment, Thorne looked ready to climb over the rail after him. “This isn’t the Eluneth you remember. There are creatures—twisted by the shadows. They’ll tear you apart before you get anywhere near the temple?—”

“I’ll take my chances,” Loren called back over his shoulder. Wood creaked under his too-small boots, giving way to slick stone as he headed for the narrow steps carved into the cliffside.

“And what if you don’t come back?” Thorne shouted after him.

“Then I’ll have solved everyone’s problems.”

Thorne shouted something after him, but Loren didn’t look back, putting all his focus on climbing the treacherous stairs. Araya had said her piece to the shadows, saving their lives. Now, it was his turn.