Page 4

Chapter

Three

Garrick had assigned Jaxon to Elvanfal—because of her.

The revelation sat in the hollow of Araya’s stomach as Jaxon guided her through the crowd, his hand warm against the small of her back. Did he even know that she was the reason he’d been stationed there?

She wanted to ask him. Needed to. But she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

While the streets around the Aetherium had been wild with noise and color, this district pulsed with quiet opulence. Garlands laced with gold shimmered in the light of the aetherlamps. Couples and small groups of well-dressed humans gathered around tall tables, drinks in hand, their heads turning as Araya passed them.

The whispers trailed her like shadows, countless eyes catching on her bright hair and clipped ears. That’s one of them , someone hissed to their companion. Look at her eyes ? —

Araya fought the instinct to turn tail and run. She didn’t belong here. Not with these people. Not tonight. Not ever.

“Breathe, Starling,” Jaxon murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “We’re almost there. ”

Araya started to nod—but then she saw where there was.

“Jaxon—” She stopped short, heels scraping against the cobblestone as she dragged them both to a halt. “That’s the Gilded Lily. I can’t go in there.”

“You can with me,” Jaxon said, without a hint of hesitation.

She stared at the golden doors, heart pounding. The Gilded Lily was more than just a bar—it was a monument to human supremacy that catered to the most elite human mages. Deals were struck there. Futures decided. Names erased.

It was no place for a halfblood.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Jaxon, if someone asks for my papers—or checks my rune?—”

“They won’t,” he cut in smoothly. “Not when you’re with me.”

He tilted her chin up, his touch featherlight but commanding. “You’re bonded to me now, Araya. You go where I go.”

The certainty in his voice left no room for argument.

She shrank closer to Jaxon as they crossed the threshold, bracing herself for the outcry—but no one even looked twice. Jaxon moved through the room like he owned it—his hand a steady pressure at the small of her back as he guided her with practiced ease, returning nods and murmured greetings as they wound their way through the room.

“Thanks for holding the table.” Jaxon clapped a mage Araya vaguely recognized on the shoulder.

“I’m always happy to drink on Commander Shaw’s tab,” the man raised his glass in a mock toast, grinning as Jaxon tucked her in front of him.

“You remember Kai Sterling, don’t you?” Jaxon plucked a glass of sparkling wine off a passing tray, setting it in front of her. “He’s a runesmith now. Mara Redmond is an illusionist—” the slim, brown-haired woman nodded, offering a pleasant smile “—and Caylin Pryce, forensic spellwright.”

Araya nodded politely, nerves twisting her stomach as she instinctively traced the small rune at the base of her thumb. Jaxon’s friends—they may have been at the Aetherium with her, but they’d hardly run in the same circles.

But Kai grinned at her, winking like they’d ever done more than exchange a handful of passing glances in the halls. “Jaxon’s little prodigy,” he said. “It’s good to see you again, Araya. It’s been years.”

“And yet it feels like yesterday,” Caylin said icily, swirling the dark wine in her glass. “I guess you never learned anything useful despite all the books Jaxon snuck you.”

Araya’s grip tightened on her glass, her shaky smile faltering as the dark-haired human woman’s smirk sharpened.

“Too bad that’s all over for you now,” Caylin said, her voice sugar-slick and venom-tipped. “You’ll have other duties, won’t you? Now that you’re bonded.”

Araya flushed at the cruel suggestion in the human woman’s voice, shame slithering down her spine. She dropped her gaze, knowing there was no retort. Bonded fae had a clear role—and it didn’t involve continuing to work.

But Jaxon cut in, steel threading his voice as he glared at the woman across the table. “Oh, Araya isn’t done working,” he said. “She’s going to be assisting me on a special project for the Arcanum.”

Caylin’s fingers curled around the stem of her glass, her expression shifting from sharp amusement to unease.

“That can’t be right.” She glanced around, looking for support, but Mara and Kai were suddenly very interested in their drinks.

Her hesitation hardened into anger. “That’s not allowed,” she snapped. “The regulations on bonded fae are clear. Once a bond is formalized, their employment status is revoked unless they hold a pre-existing magisterial appointment.” Her eyes narrowed. “And Araya doesn’t.”

Jaxon smiled. “Yet.”

Caylin’s jaw tightened. “That’s not how it works, Jaxon. There’s a process—waivers, formal appeal. You can’t just override Arcanum policy because you want to take your little pet to work. We have rules for a reason?— ”

Araya stiffened at the word pet , but Jaxon’s smirk only deepened.

“You’re thinking like a bureaucrat, Caylin,” he said, steel threading through his voice as he lifted his drink and took a slow sip. “I’m thinking like someone who knows the system.”

He set his glass down, leveling a cool gaze at the human woman. “Araya will be working with me. Anyone who has a problem with it is welcome to take it up with my father. He’s voiced his full support for the arrangement.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Caylin flushed, pink rising to her cheeks as she faltered under the weight of Jaxon’s glare. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass as she darted a glance around the table, searching for support. But Kai looked away, feigning sudden interest in his drink, and Mara dropped her eyes, studying the grain of the table with rapt fascination.

Clearing her throat, Caylin squared her shoulders, forcing a razor-thin smile. “Well, Araya,” she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Let’s hope your magic is as impressive as the… other attributes that have captured Jaxon’s interest. It would be such a shame if the Arcanum started to believe he only thought with his cock.”

Araya flinched at the crude words, losing the battle not to show a reaction.

Jaxon’s grip on Araya’s waist tightened, his fingers biting into her side. “The only appropriate thing to say to her is ‘congratulations,’” he said, pinning Caylin to the spot with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey. “Now, this is a celebration, Caylin. For Araya. So celebrate—or leave.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

Caylin glared at him, but there was nothing left to say. She shoved her chair back with a loud scrape, downing her drink in a single gulp before slamming her glass back down on the table and storming away, her back stiff with anger .

Mara sighed. “Well done, Jaxon,” she said dryly. “She’ll be unbearable tomorrow.”

“Caylin is always unbearable,” Kai said, raising his glass. He caught Araya’s eye, grinning at her. “Don’t judge us all by her, please. Some of us are much more charming.”

Araya managed a weak smile, though the heat in her cheeks lingered. “It’s fine,” she said. The urge to lower her gaze tugged at her, but she resisted, brushing against the back of Jaxon’s hand. The gesture was more for herself than him—an attempt to ground the swirling tension inside her.

Conversation and alcohol flowed easily around the table after that, the humans slipping into a practiced camaraderie. Laughter rippled like a stream, light and effortless as they swapped stories and sharp-edged quips, their voices weaving together in a melody Araya didn’t know the words to. She nodded and smiled where she thought it was appropriate, but no matter how many friendly glances Kai sent her way or how deliberately Jaxon included her in the banter, Araya couldn’t shake the sense of being out of place.

Jaxon’s touch was her only anchor. His arm curved around her waist, his firm grip and the warm press of his chest against her back grounding her in place. She wasn’t sure if his touch was meant to reassure her or to warn everyone else that she was his, but either way, it worked.

The stares that had followed her through the streets were absent here, the weight of human scrutiny diffused by Jaxon’s presence. No one dared openly comment on what Jaxon had so clearly marked as his. The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Araya swallowed it down. The stares were gone, and that counted for something.

“Here, try this,” Jaxon murmured, sliding a small plate of food in front of her. “I know you didn’t stop to eat.”

“Thanks.” She offered him a soft smile, touched by the gesture. He was right—she hadn’t eaten since lunch, and the wine was already making her head swim. She picked up a small bite, enjoying the explosion of flavors across her tongue.

“Of course, Starling,” Jaxon murmured, but his attention was already shifting. His gaze snagged on something across the room, his entire posture sharpening in an instant. The easy confidence he’d carried all evening hardened into something colder and more dangerous.

“Watch her,” he ordered abruptly, his voice clipped as he glanced at Kai. The warmth that had laced his tone earlier gone.

Araya blinked. “Jaxon, what?—”

But he was already striding away, his presence disappearing into the crowd like a shadow dissolving into darkness.

She gripped the edge of the table, her fingers digging into the lacquered wood. Her papers didn’t authorize her to be here—not tonight, not in this district, and certainly not in the Gilded Lily itself.

Jaxon had been her shield. Without him at her side, the room suddenly felt too sharp, too exposed. If someone asked for her identification—if an inquisitor decided to check her status?—

“Easy, Araya,” Kai said, leaning forward to slide another drink across the table to her. “He’ll be back before you know it. Jaxon isn’t the only important one here—you’re perfectly safe with us. I promise.”

Araya forced a breath through her nose, nodding quickly as her shaking fingers closed around the cool glass. She took a small sip, but the sweet drink did nothing to lift the oppressive dread that had settled over her.

“I’m not used to any of this,” she admitted.

“I’d imagine you aren’t,” Mara said. Her smile carried none of the sharpness that had colored Caylin’s earlier jabs. “It must feel so different. But I’m sure you’ll adjust quickly—luxury is easy to get used to. It really is too bad your friend couldn’t come—what was her name again, Kai? Serafina?”

The name hit Araya like a blow, sharp and unexpected. “Jaxon invited Serafina?” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them, her fingers gripping the edge of the table as the polished walls seemed to tilt around her.

Kai winced, his easy smile faltering. “He had me reach out to her weeks ago—she said she had other plans. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize she hadn’t told you.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to spoil it,” Mara offered, her expression contrite. “Surprises like this—they can be hard to navigate. Maybe she thought it would be better coming from him?”

Araya nearly laughed. Serafina hated Jaxon—had made her opinion of him blisteringly clear more than once. She wouldn’t have kept this quiet out of consideration. Not for him. Not even for Araya.

But Mara’s excuse was convenient, and Araya was too exhausted to argue.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said quickly, forcing a tight, brittle smile onto her face. “The entire night has been one big surprise—what’s one more?”

But the room spun around her as she took another big gulp of her drink. The table, the glittering sconces, the polished mahogany walls—they all blurred together, pressing in around her. The voices around her faded into a distant murmur as a single thought looped endlessly in her mind.

Serafina had known.

Serafina had known Jaxon was coming back for weeks . If she hadn’t known for sure he was planning to ask for Araya’s bond, she must have at least suspected—but she hadn’t said a word. The realization struck harder than any insult Caylin could have thrown at her.

Jaxon’s laugh rang out, sharp and familiar, cutting through the hum of conversation. Araya’s head snapped up, searching until she found him in the crowd.

He wasn’t alone.

Araya’s skin prickled. The crowd parted around the man who stood beside Jaxon now, like even these people didn’t want to get too close to him. He glared at Jaxon with unconcealed disdain, the polished medallion marking him as a master gleaming in the dim light.

Jaxon leaned in, saying something that had his smirk curling at the edges of his lips. But the magister didn’t react—at least not outwardly. Instead, his gaze flicked toward her.

Araya lowered her eyes before she could stop herself. The instinct was too deeply ingrained— don’t be noticed, don’t be seen —but she could feel the weight of the stranger’s stare like a blade pressed against her throat.

She didn’t dare look up again—not until Jaxon’s hand brushed her shoulder. She leaned into his touch, relieved to find the stranger gone. She never wanted to see that man again.

“Did you set Darian to rights?” Kai asked as Jaxon folded her back into his arms.

Mara set her glass down too hard. “Magister Hale,” she corrected sharply. “We still owe him respect—whether you like it or not.”

Jaxon scoffed. “I’ll give him respect when he earns it,” he said with a smirk, smoothing his hands down Araya’s sides in long, soothing strokes.

Araya leaned into it, letting herself sag into his arms. The warmth of his body soaked through Serafina’s dress, grounding her, but her mind was already spiraling. Darian Hale wasn’t just a magister—he was the High Inquisitor.

Twenty-five years ago, the New Dominion had broken the fae, and Darian Hale had ensured they stayed broken. It was his laws that had dictated who could live freely and who would be marked, collared, or caged. His rulings that had decided which fae were useful and which ones simply… disappeared.

Jaxon could laugh it off. He had never been on his knees in front of an inquisitor, waiting to see if they would deem him worthy of breathing another day. Darian Hale was the reason she had learned early—before she even understood survival—not to meet human eyes. Not to be noticed.

But now—now he had noticed her .

Araya leaned heavily back against Jaxon, the polished floor swaying beneath her feet like the deck of a ship as the heat of his body soaked through Serafina’s dress, enveloping her. She didn’t hear what Kai said next—his words dissolving into the noise around them, breaking like a wave against the jagged edges of her mind.

Jaxon’s low laugh rumbled against her back. “I think it’s time to get you home, Starling,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. “I forgot—you don’t really drink.”

Araya stifled a wild laugh as Jaxon guided her toward the doors. It wasn’t funny—not really. She never drank. No fae female did—the dangers of being inebriated and vulnerable were simply too great.

Yet, here she was, in the heart of an affluent human district on the most dangerous night of the year, her senses dulled and her mind murky, clinging to Jaxon’s arm.

Her vision blurred, the edges of the world rippling like water as Jaxon settled her onto the plush bench of the waiting carriage. Her stomach lurched as they started moving, the silver gown sticking to her overheated skin.

Cool air brushed her face, laced with the familiar scent of burnt vanilla that always accompanied Jaxon’s spells. She blinked hard, trying to focus on his face as he watched her with open concern.

“What’s wrong?” Jaxon demanded, scanning her face like he’d find the reason for her panic there. “If you’re still worried about Hale, don’t be. He can’t touch you. I won’t let him. You’re safe with me, Starling.”

Safe. It was a lie wrapped in silk—a word meant for someone else. But if she closed her eyes, Araya could almost believe it, almost convince herself that everything tonight had happened exactly as it was meant to.

But the doubt was insidious, curling through her like smoke, poisoning the air in her lungs. Had she ever truly had a choice? Had Jaxon really saved her—or had she simply stepped into the only cage that had been left open?

Jaxon’s hand traced up her spine, settling at the nape of her neck. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice low and coaxing. “Tell me what’s wrong, Starling.”

“Mira told me you invited Serafina—weeks ago,” Araya finally admitted. “How long did you know this was going to happen?”

“Years.” Jaxon’s fingers stroked her jaw, tilting her chin so she had nowhere else to look. “I made you a promise before I left, Araya. I never intended to break it.”

Her stomach twisted. “Then why did you let them send you to Elvanfal? Why didn’t you write?”

Jaxon exhaled slowly. But he didn’t release her, didn’t look away.

“I wanted to request your bond as soon as I was eligible,” he said. “But Elvanfal—he told you, right? That was his condition.” His thumb brushed along the curve of her cheek, lingering. “He said you deserved time outside my influence to decide what you wanted.”

His voice softened, his grip tightening at her waist. “I would have waited longer if I had to. But when I got your letter about your waiver…” He dropped his head forward, pressing his forehead against hers. “I would never let them take your magic from you, Starling. I requested my transfer back that day—before I even talked to my father. And I came to you the second I arrived back in Aetheris.”

“You transferred back for me?” Araya’s voice cracked.

This hadn’t just fallen into place. Jaxon had built it around her, laying the foundation of their future around her long before she even realized what he was doing. While she had agonized over her waiver, drowning under the weight of uncertainty, Jaxon had been maneuvering, ensuring she never had a decision to make at all.

She’d never even been in danger.

She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or scream. Probably both. Maybe neither. Instead, she just buried her face in Jaxon’s shoulder—because pretending to be fine was suddenly too much work.

Jaxon’s grip on her waist tightened, his lips ghosting over her temple in a barely-there touch. “It’s over now, Starling,” he murmured. “You don’t have to worry. I’m never going anywhere without you again. You’re mine.”

No one," he continued, his fingers pressing into her flesh. "Not the Arcanum. Not Hale. Not anyone—can take you from me."

A shiver trailed down her spine. There was never another ending to this story—only the illusion of one. She could keep fighting it… or she could surrender.

Araya closed her eyes, letting Jaxon’s warmth envelop her.

His children would never see the inside of a place like Kaldrath.

They would never wake up wondering if this was the day they were taken away. They would never feel the sharp bite of the shears or the hot wash of blood running down their face as their ears were clipped. They would never feel the sting of a lash for some minor infraction against the endless rules designed to grind them into dust.

And if that meant letting Jaxon shape her future the way he had shaped her past—then maybe it was worth it.

It had to be. Because if it wasn’t, then what would even be left of her when he was finished?

Jaxon must have felt her relax, because he shifted, cradling her closer. “You’re very drunk, Starling,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”