Page 10

Chapter Ten

A s we followed our escorts deeper into Velarune, the landscape shifted once more. Rising out of the hillside, half-hidden by jagged rocks and climbing vines, was a castle hewn into the stone, its towers and walls seamlessly melding into the white-faced mountain. A narrow, winding path led up to the entrance, flanked by twisted trees. The heady weight of magic still hung heavy in the air.

After a maze of turns and passageways inside the castle corridors, our two female fae guides finally stopped before a hall littered with heavy, ornate doors. They gestured toward two guest rooms, three doors down from each other.

“Rest now, wanderers,” the fae closest to me said, her voice tinkling like chimes in the wind. “We shall bring you proper clothes for the revelry soon.”

Then they left us, but not before giggling as they passed the prince.

I rolled my eyes, ready to throw open my door and sleep for a decade. But Caelum was still lingering outside his door, his expression unreadable as he glanced over at me. He fiddled with the bandages the female guides had provided us for our hands. He was hesitating, but I had no idea why.

I waited, wondering if he was about to say something important, a plan for tonight or a strategy to talk through, or just a haughty remark. Anything. But, instead, he gave a small nod, his usual mask slipping back into place.

“See you soon,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

I nodded, exhaustion from the day’s events pulling at me, and slipped into my room. After wrapping my cut hand, I collapsed on the bed, wishing to close my eyes for a moment, only to fall into a deep sleep for hours. When I awoke, an elaborate gown waited, hung on a post by the door.

Blinking away sleep, I got up to study it better in the flickering candlelight. It was a deep, forest-green dress, crafted from some light, flowing material. I frowned, taking in the low neckline and the delicate web of lace gloves to match. This was far from the simple, practical clothing I usually wore, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fae having chosen something for me. Yet, there was something undeniably beautiful about it.

A tag hung from the sleeve, and I snatched it up to read it.

A dress worthy of the witch who will wear it.–Thalion

The king was laying it on thick. He clearly wanted to convince me to stay here in Velarune, but it still didn’t make sense to me why.

Still, I was anxious to try it on.

Abandoning my traveling clothes in a pile on the floor, I shimmied into the soft dress, letting it settle around my body. A strand of my hair fell loose from the side braid I’d hastily plaited, brushing against my cheek as I surveyed my reflection in the polished mirror that hung on the back of my door. The dress hugged my form in a way that was foreign, like a lover’s embrace. I’d had encounters with men, of course, but none of them had held me like this .

A strange thrill rattled through me at seeing myself like this—bold, powerful.

But feeling powerful and being powerful were two different things, I reminded myself.

I tried to push down the small, stubborn voice that whispered to the very heart of me: What difference might you be able to make if you could harness more ? It was a dangerous road to wander down.

Father used to say that magic fused with a person’s soul the moment they were born, shaping itself into something entirely unique. No two gifts were ever the same, just as no two souls ever were. While some wielded fire or bent water to their will, others found their magic manifesting in subtler ways, like my mother manipulating the temperature or me redirecting lightning. It was a deeply personal connection, an extension of oneself.

It was wrong of me to want more than I’d been given.

And yet, standing here, I couldn’t shake the quaking frustration that no matter how hard I tried, it never seemed to be enough. Not to the council. Not to anyone. Power had a way of commanding respect without effort, and I had spent so long clawing for scraps of it.

Even before I joined the council, no one in the village ever thought I was worthy of going on the research trips with my father. They always scoffed at him, told him I was better left at home to tend to a husband and children. That I had no gift worthy of making a difference.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth, one that I swallowed down as I took one last look in the mirror, my hands tightening into fists.

A powerful witch , the fae king had called me. Perhaps, for one evening, I could be.

When I stepped out to meet Caelum, he was already waiting, dressed in a finely tailored tunic and trousers that clung to him in all the right places. As he turned to face me, I caught the briefest flicker of surprise in his expression before he quickly schooled his face back into its usual smirk. Yet, his eyes betrayed him as they continued their trek over the dress, lingering at the low neckline and the bare curve of my shoulders.

“Try not to stare,” I muttered, but the thrill of capturing his attention didn’t escape me.

Caelum cleared his throat, blue eyes darting to meet mine. “I wasn’t staring,” he said smoothly, though the sudden flush in his cheeks told a different story. “It’s just...you should try not wearing bags for clothes more often, that’s all.”

“Right,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m sure this dress would hold up really well for everyday travel on horseback and up cliff sides.”

He nodded his head in agreement, his gaze turning soft. “Well, in any event, it suits you.”

Silence hummed between us, and his expression shifted back into the one he’d worn ever since entering Velarune: awe and wonder. Except, this time, he was only looking at me.

He offered his hand. “Would you do me the honor of attending my first fae revelry with me, Eedy?”

My heart ricocheted in my chest as I held his eyes with mine. He was doing it again, looking at me like he was trying to uncover what made me tick, but this time, it wasn’t to undermine me. It felt careful. Curious. Cautious. Like he didn’t want to scare me away with his staring, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop.

I nodded my head, not trusting my mouth to form the proper words. I was about to take his hand when I noticed something missing.

“Your cut from Solimir earlier, it’s already gone,” I said, yanking his hand closer to inspect it further.

“Is it?” he said, pulling away to look at his own palm, pretending to be confused.

I swear to the gods...

I held my pointer finger up to him like a blade, my blood boiling. “How long have we been here, and you’ve already sniffed out a fae healer to bed, is that it?”

He stared at my finger inches from his face as if it really might cut him.

“What can I say, I must have a type,” he said sheepishly.

Unbelievable.

I closed my eyes, taking a long pull of breath through my nose, attempting to calm myself.

But it didn’t work.

“Caelum, we need to stick together at this revelry. I can’t have you disappearing with every female fae that bats her long, perfect eyelashes at you.” I opened my eyes to stare him down for the last part. “I need to know I can rely on you.”

“Understood,” he replied, inclining his head. “I’m all yours tonight.”

A jolt coursed through me at his words, and I wanted to scream. Why was my desperate heart quivering when he said anything with the slightest bit of insinuation? Could it be that I felt a pull toward him that ran deeper than all the surface layers I’d assumed about him, layers that were all turning out to be false?

Except for the rake part, I reminded myself hurriedly. He was still most definitely that.

I turned quickly on my heel and left that question behind me, where it belonged.

I followed the sound of music through the winding corridors until a few servants found us and guided us to the party. The space opened into a massive cavern, filled with glowing, pulsating colors. A waterfall cascaded down over the mouth of the cave, flowing into a pool that mirrored the strange lights above, casting shifting reflections over the gathered fae.

I scanned the room, noting the hypnotic sway of the dancers moving in time with the music. The fae danced with an unrestrained wildness, nothing like the careful, measured steps I’d seen in books or heard about from my father’s stories from his trips to the capital city in Eyre. This was something far more primal.

I headed toward the edge of the room, hoping to keep out of sight, but Caelum caught my arm, pulling me back.

“Come on, Eedy,” he said, eyes bright again. “When will we ever be at a fae revelry again? One dance won’t kill us.”

I studied the point where his hand grasped my arm. “This isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing night out, Caelum.”

“Just one song.” His palm slid down my arm to hold my hand. “For appearances, if nothing else. Surely, it’s not good manners for us to seem unimpressed with their party.”

Electricity shot from my fingers up my arm at his touch.

I sighed, loudly, but it didn’t deter him.

“Come on,” he begged again, tugging at my palm, “or I might have to find a lovely female fae to dance with instead.” He arched an eyebrow, testing me.

I growled at his arrogance, marching out to the floor myself, dragging him behind me. One dance with this infuriating man, and that was it .

Once I’d led us to the center of the dancing fae, I turned to face him. The dancing area was draped in shadows, so it was hard to see him save for the pulse of colored lights every few seconds.

“Ready?” he said, taking the last step toward me, the humid air between us fleeing to make room. I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek as my stomach twisted in knots.

Why did he make me so bloody nervous?

One of his hands slid to my waist, his touch steady. Confident. The heat of his palm seeped through the fabric of my dress, igniting a slow burn that creeped up my back. I lifted one hand to rest against his shoulder, the thin barrier of his tunic doing little to mask the firmness beneath it.

I dared to look into his eyes again, only to find him back at his games. He studied me with the perfect mixture of curiosity and challenge. Jaw clenched, I held my ground, refusing to be the first to look away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noted his other hand as it lifted, palm open, waiting. Daring. When I finally took it, he gave the faintest squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly against my gloved knuckles.

As we started to sway, I maintained a careful distance between us, holding myself rigid to keep from leaning in too far. It didn’t matter, though. This close to him, I was feeling things . Not only was his scent swirling around me, his presence alone carried a noticeable weight to it, filling in every crack and crevice of space around me.

“You’re looking at me like you could rip me in two,” he said with a smirk.

I sighed, trying to appear nonchalant despite the thrashing in my chest. “Lucky for you, that’s not how my magic manifests.”

He pursed his lips. “How does it manifest?

“I can catch lightning. Redirect it. Capture it,” I said, trying to focus on the rhythm of the dance and not the way his fingers pressed a bit more firmly against my waist.

His awe-and-wonder face resurfaced, his eyes alight. “What does that feel like?”

Just like this , I realized as a sharp thrill ran through me, stealing the air from my lungs. I cleared my throat, forcing the thought away. “It feels like being in complete control, for once. Of seeing something powerful and bending it to my will. Of wanting something and claiming it.”

I hadn’t meant to sound so raw, but once the words were out, I could do nothing to wrangle them back in. I risked another glance at him, expecting that insufferable smirk to return. Instead, his expression shifted. His hand fanned out across my hip, pulling me infinitesimally closer, his gaze steady and intent.

“Maybe you could show me one day,” he murmured.

“Perhaps,” I breathed, my body on fire. I needed a distraction.

I glanced away from him, letting my eyes flit over the fae surrounding us. The other revelers used their whole bodies to dance, their movements free and uninhibited. We were like a timid candle amidst a raging wildfire, I realized. Two mortals clinging to etiquette in a place that celebrated chaos.

Caelum seemed to notice too. He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You know,” he murmured, a playful tease returning to his voice, “if we’re going to fit in here, we might have to adjust our style a bit.”

“Adjust how, exactly?” I asked, my heartbeat already racing at how close we were.

In response, he half spun me around, shifting so my back was against his chest. With my arms crossed in front of me, his hands found mine, guiding us as he moved in sync with the music’s relentless tempo. The loud drums pulsed through my chest.

“I...I don’t think this is a proper dance position,” I stammered, acutely aware of the steady wall of him pressed against my spine. My body yearned to relax against him, but I resisted, standing like an icicle instead.

He leaned in, his breath tickling my ear as he chuckled softly. “Tell me, Eedy. How many balls or soirées have you attended?”

“I don’t need to have attended any,” I muttered defensively. “I’ve seen enough illustrations in books.”

“Ah, books,” he mused. “Didn’t someone wise once say you can’t rely solely on books?”

I growled, having no better retort. I looked back at him over my shoulder to glare, but his face was kiss-close, his tousled golden hair brushing against a few strands of my own that had slipped out of my braid.

His voice dropped. “Did you ever think you’d dance with him?”

“Who?” I demanded, watching a kaleidoscope of colored lights dance across his face.

“The greatest rival you’ve ever known.” He spun me again, so I faced him once more. He smiled, dimples and all, as he pulled me back in with both hands on my hips, squeezing out any space between us.

I scoffed, digging my nails into his shoulders to distract me from the heat rising in my cheeks. “You? My rival? And what do you rival me in?”

“Wit. Will. Strategy, perhaps?”

“Strategy?” I shot back as he spun me away. His adherence to the music’s tempo was irritatingly perfect. “You mean how you blunder into something without thinking it through?”

His smirk deepened as he pulled me back into him. “Better than waiting too long to make a move, like you.”

I strained against his embrace, but he held firm. “I need to understand the positives and negatives of a choice. It’s called being cautious.”

“And I’m being pragmatic,” he countered, leaning both of us into a low dip, his voice like silk against the crackling fire of my nerves. “I see a way to get what I want, and I take it.”

His words sent a shiver racing through me as he brought us back up. Still, I jerked my chin up. “What a reckless way to live.”

“Reckless? Maybe,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with a heat that stole my breath. “But I can promise you, Tempest, you’d never be bored.”

He twirled me again, and I was caught without a solid reply once more. He had me there. Caelum Ashford was many things: arrogant, pampered, cocky. But boring was not one of them.

With my mouth clamped shut, I let myself get swept into the thrum of the atmosphere. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way the prince moved, the way he commanded our dance. I knew whichever way he turned, twirled, or tugged me, it would be smooth and synced to the music’s rhythm. And with every new shift or twist in his arms, another bolt of excitement coursed through me.

I was losing myself to a man I hated. I hated him, right? Yes, I did. I did .

So, as the song came to an end, I pulled away, feigning indifference. “There. One dance. Now I’m going to stay out of trouble, and you should too.”

I slipped into the shadows along the outskirts of the cave, pressing my back against the cool, stone wall as I tried to gather myself. But the pulse of the revelry continued around me, and no matter how far I tried to retreat, the heat from Caelum’s touch still clung to my skin.

I just needed a moment, a breath of fresh air.

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. When I opened them, the sight of a commotion across the room caught my attention. My stomach twisted as I watched King Thalion stroll into the revelry, his every step moving the space like a ripple through water. The fae parted for him, their laughter fading into hushed murmurs as he passed.

He prowled through the party like a predator, calculated and untouchable. And then his gaze found me.

A weight settled over my chest, sharp and suffocating. My breath hitched, the pulse of the music falling away as my heart thundered in my ears.

The king’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.

I pressed harder against the wall until the rough stone bit into my skin, my fingers curling into fists. Whatever game Thalion was playing, I had no interest in being a pawn. But with the fae, it didn’t matter—once you were on their board, you joined in, or you were taken out.