Page 12

CHAPTER 12

JASSYN

R efusal was a futile notion. The claw anchored to Jassyn’s shoulder made that abundantly clear. Fenn’s relentless energy drove him forward like a rushing current, sweeping him deeper into the fortress whether he liked it or not.

Torches burned sporadically along the winding passages, casting flickering shadows across rocky walls blanketed with luminous moss.

An abrupt shift in the bond sent a jolt through him, the prince’s proximity now a faint speck in his mind. Fenn’s talons briefly tensed against him—Serenna must’ve portaled too.

Eventually, Jassyn dared to question if they were really destined for this Lagoon.

“It’s too early for excitement there,” Fenn explained, his tone light but his grip unyielding as he steered Jassyn through the spiraling tunnels. “Trust me, where we’re going is much more…intimate.”

That’s not exactly the relief I was hoping for.

Anxiety ricocheted around Jassyn’s chest with every step, the air thickening with warmth as the passages seemed to close in. A bead of sweat trickled down his neck, sliding uncomfortably under his collar.

Fenn scraped his talons against an arched entryway then warped ahead as a chamber came into view. Seeing no other option—he’d never be able to navigate back without a guide—Jassyn hesitantly followed.

A misty haze wreathed a lone turquoise pool that snaked across the uneven floor, its surface chalky and still. Droplets of condensation beaded along the jagged contours of stony walls, where glistening lichens clung like delicate veils, bathing the cavern in a cyan glow.

Fenn plucked a folded towel and a flimsy pair of wading shorts from a rocky shelf, holding them out. Jassyn blinked, momentarily jarred. His eyes flicked from the garments to Fenn, whose grin only widened—all fangs and unspoken invitation.

Jassyn shoved damp curls out of his face before reluctantly accepting the clothing. Profoundly unfamiliar with wraith culture, he had the nagging suspicion that he’d unwittingly agreed to something.

He cleared his throat. “What are—”

“We’re taking a dip in the pool,” Fenn interrupted, eyes igniting with delight.

Jassyn’s pulse quickened, his grip on the meager fabric tightening. Fenn’s interest was anything but subtle. Yet he couldn’t decide if this wraith simply cast charm wide or if it was something more deliberate, reserved for him—though Fenn had clearly already grown close to Serenna. Either way, it would be prudent to steel himself for whatever—

Fenn’s trousers hit the ground.

And so did Jassyn’s stomach.

He spun away so quickly that he nearly lost his footing on the slick stone. Heat surged up his ears as he locked his eyes on the pool.

Behind him, Fenn chuckled, his voice wrapped in velvet-edged teasing. “You elves are so…reserved. Don’t worry. This is my father and Aesar’s preferred spot. But my father is busy with his duties and Aesar hasn’t yet returned so it’s all ours.”

The realization struck like a plunge into icy water. They would be entirely alone—intentionally. While the notion of privacy was faintly reassuring, the clothes in Jassyn’s hands suddenly felt impossibly heavy, as though they’d been replaced with stones. This was a mistake. Surely Fenn didn’t expect…

Fenn swaggered around him, steam swirling in his wake. A scrap of fabric covered his lower half, though his mane of hair did most of the work. Easing himself into the steaming pool, he threw his arms out, talons clicking along the rocky ledge.

Jassyn swallowed hard, feeling cornered and out of options. Even if he managed to retrace the path through the twisting tunnels, returning to the Aerie alone wouldn’t be safe—especially if Lykor appeared.

Unsettled and uncertain, Jassyn lingered, his fingers resting on the hem of his shirt. The heat of the room pressed against him. Slowly—reluctantly—he peeled his tunic over his head. But when he reached for the waistband of his trousers, his courage faltered.

“I won’t peek,” Fenn drawled, his smirk audible as he tilted his face up to the ceiling, the muted glow glinting in his piercings.

Skeptical, Jassyn kept his attention fixed on the wraith. He kicked off his boots with a hesitation that bordered on defiance, wondering if simply dipping his feet into the water might be enough to placate Fenn.

The air suddenly stirred. Pressure converged in the cavern and Jassyn whirled as a portal ripped open in the chamber.

His brow furrowed, an unfamiliar tightness tugging at his scar. Was the prince portaling to his location with Serenna in tow? Such a diversion would be a welcome rescue, swiftly granting him freedom from this awkwardness with Fenn.

A fragile ember of hope flickered, only to be doused by blind terror.

Jassyn shuffled backward as Lykor stumbled through the rift in a blast of wind and snow. Heart a riot in his chest, Jassyn slammed a shield around himself, the violet barrier crackling as he braced for the worst.

Calculating his escape, Jassyn whipped his head to the tunnel, weighing his options. His thoughts fractured as Lykor suddenly toppled forward, crashing to the cavern floor.

With a strangled curse, Fenn shambled out of the pool, warping to Lykor’s side just as the rift disintegrated. Water streamed from his hair and shoulders as he crouched next to Lykor, claws hovering above his back. “It’s Aesar. He’s hurt.”

Paralyzed by fear and indecision, Jassyn could only gape. The figure on the ground didn’t stir. His eyes snapped to Fenn. “How do you know it’s Aesar?”

Fenn didn’t look up, talons curling into the frozen fabric of Lykor’s tunic. “Lykor would never come here.” His voice held a brittle edge, worry cracking through.

Relieved, Jassyn unraveled his shield and rushed to Aesar’s side, his bare feet skidding on the slick rock. Aesar’s collapse had spared him from a private swim with Fenn, but a sting of guilt quickly followed. The scar on his brow tingled, an uncomfortable reminder that he might’ve been the one to drive Lykor to such reckless extremes. I was only trying to help.

Fenn turned Aesar over and they both drew in sharp breaths. Frostbite had crept across the tips of his ears, a jagged blackness etched stark against his bloodless skin. Ice clung to his tunic and trousers, the fabric frozen stiff. He wasn’t even shivering—a harrowing stillness that betrayed his dire condition.

Jassyn unleashed a wave of Essence, spiraling the magic outward to assess the extent of Aesar’s injuries. The first brush of power told him everything he needed to know. Aesar’s heart fluttered weakly, his skin perilously cold as he hovered near the brink of death.

“What the bleeding stars was he doing?” Jassyn muttered, more so to himself as he wove magic around Aesar’s motionless body. Encased in a sheath of ice, his boots wouldn’t be coming off until they thawed. Clumps of frost clung to his raven hair, the tangled strands long since ravaged by wind and snow. “Was he walking across the Wastes without a cloak?”

“Lykor might’ve been portal jumping,” Fenn offered. “He and my father quarrel endlessly over his plans.” The metallic click of his lip ring tapping against his teeth filled the silence as he chewed on it, eyes tracing Jassyn’s magic. “Aesar must’ve seized control and dragged them back.”

Jassyn hesitated, hands trembling as he reached for the ice-crusted gauntlet encasing Aesar’s claw. Mercilessly cold, the metal cage bit into his palms as he pried it loose. He winced as Aesar’s flesh peeled away with the movement, thin layers sticking to the armor. The talons within were blackened and splintered, some shattered completely. A few fingers jutted at unnatural angles, frozen solid.

Fenn shifted beside him. “Can you help him?”

The damage might be done. The thought came as an unwelcome intrusion that Jassyn shoved aside.

His gaze darted to the steaming pool, where heat beckoned, a doubled-edged salvation. He needed to thaw Aesar’s clothes before they leeched away the last slivers of life, but submerging him in water would be risky—he’d have to regulate Aesar’s heart and blood flow with Essence as he warmed.

“Yes, but we need to move him,” Jassyn said, making up his mind.

Spurred into action, Fenn hauled Aesar up, wedging himself beneath his shoulder. Jassyn slipped under the other side and together they rose, dragging Aesar to the pool. Straining under the weight, Jassyn gritted his teeth, biting back any sound—especially with Fenn bearing most of the burden.

The water hissed as it consumed Aesar’s battered body, steam billowing in misty clouds. Fenn grabbed their towels, propping Aesar’s head on the rocky shelf.

Jassyn slid into the pool, the scalding water weighing down his trousers, singeing his skin. Pushing his discomfort aside, he knelt next to Aesar and cast out a wave of mending, ruby ribbons of Essence unraveling from his palms.

He started with the organs—coaxing life into systems teetering on collapse, whispering warmth into veins that had nearly surrendered to the cold. The intricate lattice of healing demanded every ounce of his knowledge. So absorbed in weaving his power over the injuries, Jassyn almost forgot about Fenn’s quiet presence until he spoke.

“I have no magics to assist, and my father will want to know that Aesar has returned.”

Jassyn nodded, focus locked on the strands of mending braiding into Aesar’s chest. Down the bond, he sensed the prince was still realms away. He tugged on the connection, knowing he’d want to be informed too. “I’ll let Vesryn know as soon as he’s back.”

Fenn’s claw touched his shoulder in silent acknowledgment before he vanished down the tunnel in a blur of shadows.

A rhythmic drip of water echoed somewhere deeper in the cavern, marking the slow passage of time. Heat seeped further into Jassyn’s bones, weighing his limbs with exhaustion as he worked. But he pressed on, moving to knit Aesar’s skin back together in seamless waves, leaving behind unblemished flesh as blackened flakes dissolved.

Jassyn exhaled in relief as warmth began returning to Aesar’s body, steam curling from his thawing hair. Tremors seized Aesar’s muscles, the violent shudders sending ripples through the water, each one a defiant beat of life.

Channeling another wave of Essence through him, Jassyn assessed his progress. An old injury kept drawing his attention—Aesar’s shoulders twisted unnaturally, his spine curved and splintered in ways that even magic couldn’t repair. Jassyn’s throat tightened at the sight of the mutilation, the sheer depth suggesting near-constant pain. He wondered if there was anything he could do. Maybe Thalaesyn—

Suddenly, a rattling breath escaped Aesar, the sound scraping against the cavern walls. His eyes fluttered open—still glassy, but it was progress.

Their gazes locked. Aesar flinched and recoiled, splashing in the water to sit up. His head whipped around, wild eyes racing around the chamber before pinning Jassyn with a ferocity that froze him in place.

Aesar bared his fangs.

Jassyn’s heart seized as fire flared to life in his irises.

Not Aesar.