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Laurel

The witch goddess made the ultimate sacrifice to save her people and the world she and her sisters had so lovingly created. Despite the light bringer begging her not to do it, not to sacrifice herself, she had no choice but to slice their forearms. She used the blood of herself and her beloved to end the Great War before she lost herself to the brutality of her magic.

Unknown Story, Unknown Origin

We arrive in the healer’s quarters in the palace by my design, where Silene is immediately handed off to a group of powerful fae I trust to keep her alive and safe. After the healers remove the iron arrowhead from her stomach, Thorne, six healers, and myself weave magic over her body to stabilize her. It doesn’t wake her, but it returns her skin tone to her usual golden hue. She looks as if she could be sleeping. I’m a bit surprised that with so many of us I’m not able to heal her after I did it with Thorne so easily, but it must be because Thorne is so much more powerful than her and his own magic aided in the process. I want to immediately go get more thayar concentrate and use my enhanced magic to help her, but even I know that isn’t wise considering how much magic I’ve expended today and the exhaustion I feel. To do that again, I need to be fully in control—I can’t risk another moment like at the Battle of Moormyr. But after seeing the way the aether returned to the ground after channeling so much of it to defeat Krantz, I’m feeling relieved. For the first time in a very long time, I have hope that maybe the declining thayar isn’t my fault after all.

After assuring the healers I’ll return to help heal Silene myself as soon as I’m able, I aerstep Thorne, Fionn, and Allyssia to the Velmaran apartment so we can clean up and regroup. My body protests with every step I take, craving a nap and a cup of tea to celebrate our victory. Fionn and Allyssia move near the fireplace to speak in low voices, so Thorne pulls me into his room. The second the door closes, he’s wrapped me in his arms before I can even take my shoes off.

“You’re so sexy when you fight,” he whispers into my hair before pulling it aside and kissing my neck. The words lack their usual flirtatious zing, and I know he’s trying to use the irreverence to help us both decompress. I let him make his way across my collarbone, up the other side of my neck, and to my mouth. He parts my lips with his tongue, devouring me with his full lips.

“Mmmmm,” I moan. “You’re pretty sexy yourself. You’ve officially completed your mission as my ally, princeling. You helped take down the rebellion. Guess it’s time to send you back to Velmara.” He laughs deeply, the noise vibrating my chest from his proximity. It sends a delicious warmth through me.

“And how does it feel, witchling? To have formally allied with me and to have taken out one of your enemies?” he asks as he continues to find areas of my body to touch and soothe. After today, we both need the comfort of physical touch, assuring each other that our mate is well and whole.

I pretend to think for a moment, scrunching my nose, and it brings his lips back to mine once more. When we finally part, I whisper, “It feels like this.” Then I wrap us both in warm and calming light, using tendrils to caress his face and backside, earning me a low hum of pleasure. Thorne moves us to the bed in a flash and is pulling my shirt above my arms when a prickling on the back of my neck gives me pause. It’s the same feeling I had when we were in the laundry room at the rebel stronghold, like someone’s entering the mist. Another check in tells me all is still well. But I’m not convinced.

“Wait,” I say, and Thorne immediately releases my shirt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern crossing his eyes.

“I don’t know, exactly. Something’s off in the palace.” His brow furrows as I close my eyes to try and understand the uneasiness I’m feeling.

Someone bangs frantically on the apartment door. Our eyes lock for only a second before we’re both up and moving back through the sitting room. Thorne answers, revealing a harried Carex, face ashen and body trembling. Tension visibly coils in Thorne’s shoulders, so I intervene before Thorne kills him with the same brutal efficiency he displayed today.

“What do you want, Carex? How did you get out of your rooms? You were supposed to be under guard,” I demand. I don’t want Thorne to kill Carex—not yet, at least—but neither am I pleased to see him.

“Your Majesty, you must come quickly. It’s—I can’t believe—how—why—You must hurry,” he sputters, sounding like a madman, his eyes wild.

I place my hand over his arm to calm him, shock and worry churning low in my gut. Thorne takes up a defensive stance beside me. “Carex, tell me what’s wrong,” I urge at the same time Thorne hisses, “Spit it out.” The magic of the aether-voice lingers, though from which of us it came I’m unsure of.

“King Mazus… is... here . In the throne room,” he finally says, and all the color drains out of Thorne’s features as my heart drops out of my chest.

“That shouldn’t be possible,” I whisper, and Carex shakes with fear.

“How did this happen?” Thorne barks out.

Carex only shakes his head. “I don’t know. Admon came to my room and asked me to accompany him somewhere. I swear I didn’t want to go, didn’t want to disobey your orders. But Admon insisted. Said it was urgent. Then he led me to the throne room, where Mazus already was, sitting on your throne. Then Admon told me to find you.”

Suspicion twists through my gut like a serpent. I’m worried this is a trap Carex has laid. But if it’s not a ruse… The risk is too great to ignore. Krantz’s words echo through my mind, and a sinking feeling enters my gut. The one you least expect . You’ll find out soon enough . I meet Thorne’s eyes, and I can feel through the bond that we’ve come to the same conclusion.

“Stay here,” Thorne says to me with a voice that once again flickers with the aether-voice, but I ignore it as I let out a haughty laugh.

“Absolutely not.”

He only sighs. “Knew you’d say that. Didn’t really expect you to listen to me, but I had to try.”

Fionn whispers with Allyssia, but he finishes and comes to our side. “She’ll stay here for now,” he says, nodding to the woman. “I’m coming with you.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I nod.

“Get Nemesia, and meet us in the throne room,” I order Carex. If Mazus wants a fight, I need every powerful ally I have at my side, even ones I’m still not sure about. Taking a deep breath, I look into Thorne’s green eyes once more, letting them give me strength, before willing the aether to take us to the male we both hate.

When we arrive, Mazus sits on my throne, out of place in the dark and moody room in his bright gold attire. He smiles as we step cautiously into the room, eyes matching my mate’s, and it makes me want to hurl. Admon stands beside him, and my heart sinks. The one you least expect . The male who has watched over me like a father for the last three hundred years has betrayed me. It’s the only explanation for why he would be standing here, why he would have released Carex from his rooms and told him to find me.

“Welcome, Laurel,” Mazus says with mock cordiality. He nods to Thorne. “Son.”

“What are you doing here?” Thorne says with a lazy drawl, crossing his arms and feigning nonchalance. His ability to look unruffled right now is impressive.

“I thought I’d pay you two a visit, congratulate you on discovering a mating bond,” Mazus says, and I stiffen. I’d barely had a moment to process the news Nemesia had brought about Mazus’s knowledge of our mating bond. And now he’s here, aether-knows for what purpose.

“Consider us congratulated and honored by your magnificent presence,” Thorne says with a smirk and an obnoxious and exaggerated bow. “We’re absolutely beyond honored by your presence.” He says the last words sarcastically. It’s been months since I’ve seen this side of Thorne, the smirking and lazy prince, who makes his way through every interaction with flippant and brazen remarks, as if he hasn’t a care in the world and fears nothing. Mazus only bares his teeth.

“I wouldn’t be so cavalier, son. You haven’t heard what my mating present is yet.” I keep my features schooled in a neutral expression, but inside I’m screaming, completely rattled by this whole interaction.

“You know what,” Thorne says, tapping his chin and looking around the room like he’s trying to find something. “I think we’re out of room in the palace for even a single additional gift.” My lips quirk at Thorne’s comments, and it bolsters my own haughty resolve.

Mimicking Thorne’s irreverence, I add, “I think you may be right. Thanks for the greeting and gift, but we’re all set.”

“What happy news, then, since I intend to take as my gift,” Mazus says, eyes feral with delight. Without warning, Thorne is ripped from my side, appearing next to his father and bound in slimy black ropes that look suspiciously like the mass that had surrounded Krantz.

“Thorne!” I cry out, then turn my gaze back to Mazus. He only smirks, and the expression is so like Thorne it makes me nauseous. With a blood-curdling shriek, I hurl as much aether as I can at the ropes like I had with Krantz, but this time the black mass doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it squeezes Thorne tighter. Panic briefly flashes across his eyes before he gains control over his features again, looking bored and uninterested in what’s taking place. For added effect, he even picks at his fingernails, while I completely fall apart inside.

I close my eyes to evaluate the aether around Mazus, and my suspicions are confirmed when I find a web of pulsing onyx surrounding him, at least ten times the size of what Krantz had accumulated and somehow darker and inkier. It makes me lightheaded to look at, and I’m forced to open my eyes again. I try sending small streams of light to probe the ropes holding Thorne, looking for any weakness, but it does nothing.

Mazus makes a tsking noise.

“Unfortunately for you, Laurel, the only magic that might help you break those bindings is entirely unknown to you. What a shame you and Thorne never explored the true power of the mating bond,” Mazus simpers.

“What do you mean?” I hiss.

“Do you want to tell her Admon, or should I?” Mazus asks the old male. Admon’s eyes meet mine, regret and something else I can’t place clearly written across his expression, but I only bare my teeth.

“How could you?” I snarl, and he gives me a pitying and regretful look that only angers me further.

“It was the only way,” Admon says with the same gentleness he’s always shown, though his eyes are sad and resigned. My ears ring with fury and my vision swims. How could he, after everything we’ve been through, everything he’s seen me endure?

“Yes, yes, it’s the only path, you’ve consulted the stars. No one cares, Admon. Tell her what you know about mating bonds. What you failed to tell her before,” Mazus hisses, though it comes out gleeful. Admon’s eyes continue to express deep regret, but I don’t care. He will pay for this . I hurl a dagger of light toward Admon, but Mazus disintegrates it before it reaches him, a power he shouldn’t have. “Tell her,” Mazus commands with the aether-voice, the words reverberating through the room.

Somehow, Admon remains standing while everyone else in the room but me and Thorne drop to their knees. When he speaks, his words quiet and scholarly, it’s like we’re back on the moors and he’s explaining a concept about the aether to me.

“When mates bond, they typically influence one another’s power in some way. Sometimes they each gain each other’s conduit affinities, sometimes they just both grow stronger. But there are certain mating bonds that are part of the very fabric of our world, blessed by the aether or by some long-lost gods. When those bonds form, one mate accesses a deeper well of power than before, while the other mate acts as an anchor to protect them from losing their mind. It’s a magical insanity, of sorts—it’s complicated.” Finally, Admon looks flustered, like he doesn’t know how to explain. But his words horrify me. What they imply… Finally, with a swallow, Admon continues. “Their blood—the mates’ blood—can create frighteningly powerful spells.” Admon finishes his speech tentatively, as if he’s not sure he got it right. He looks to Mazus, who only cackles.

The shimmering blood . Memory slams into me as I recall the way Thorne’s blood had shimmered after he’d been injured, while I was healing him. My mind is reeling, and there’s a lot to process right now. Pieces are clicking together even while new questions form. Mazus breaks me out of my spiraling with his grating tenor.

“You see, Laurel, by forcing you and Thorne together, I’ve unlocked new facets of power in you both. Your power will slowly drive you insane without your mate by your side, while Thorne’s blood… Well, let’s just say it will be extremely useful to me.” My eyes meet Thorne’s and all traces of the Shining Prince are gone now, the fear and horror displayed transparently on his face. He tries to scream something to me, but Mazus wraps more shadowy ropes around his mouth. I run toward him, determined to claw him out of those ropes if I must, but the strongest barrier of air I’ve ever experienced throws me back at least ten feet. Fionn’s at my side instantly, offering his hand to help me up. He tries launching any piece of metal he can find in the room at Mazus and the barrier between us and Thorne, but they disintegrate while airborne.

“Like that little trick? Does it seem familiar? Krantz told me all about it in the letters he smuggled out with the thayar shipments,” Mazus sneers. Suddenly, Krantz sits on the throne where Mazus previously was. My eyes search the room for the Velmaran King, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Krantz laughs, an eerie and maniacal sound. “Do I look familiar? I told Hawthorne Thayaria wasn’t as inaccessible as he thought. I’ve been in and out of your kingdom countless times,” Krantz says.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” I murmur. The eerie laugh from Krantz returns, before he somehow shifts his body back into Mazus, so quickly I almost miss it. I swear his eyes become yellow slits for a brief moment, but I’m too confused to process the information.

“I can shape shift, Laurel. It’s not that difficult to figure out. But then again, you’ve never been very bright, have you?” Mazus sneers.

“But, Krantz… I killed him,” I murmur.

“Oh, Krantz was a real person. It was him who you imprisoned, who attacked you multiple times. The only time I impersonated him was the brief little conversation I had with Hawthorne at the estate. I needed to be sure you got Nemesia’s letter, and I wanted to check in on your mating bond myself. Krantz and I had a deal that if he killed you, I’d make him ruler of Thayaria. Of course, I had no intention of getting rid of you, at least not until you accepted the bond, but it gave you and Hawthorne a common enemy. I should thank you for killing the rat. He was becoming a problem for me. Getting too wrapped up in his own ego.”

The room spins around me as my magic expenditure from earlier and the sheer shock of what’s happening catch up to me. Too much information is being revealed to me, when all I can focus on is Thorne. He’s trapped by his father, who’s revealed his intentions to steal him away from me. Everything in the room fades around me as I stare at my mate, mind frantically reeling for any plan that will save him. Thorne struggles against his bindings, trying desperately to get free. I sink to my knees in horror and despair.

Nemesia appears at my side and lifts me from the ground with steady hands. It’s like the moment at the Battle of Moormyr, when she had helped me stand to face Mazus. Three hundred years later, we’re still locked in a battle we can’t win, once again at Mazus’s mercy. I desperately want to collapse, curl in on myself, and sob. But I don’t. I pull my shoulders back and squeeze Nemesia’s hand once, the only apology I can offer her right now for everything I put her through. I instantly recognize her brand of powerful plant magic, trying to penetrate the invisible wall between us and Thorne, but it doesn’t work.

“I can assure you, General, this is not a fight you’ll win,” Mazus says to Nemesia, who snarls at him with her own grief-laced fury.

“So, it was you who gave them the letter stolen from my room? How did you even enter Thayaria?” Nemesia asks, confirming what she’d told me. I’ll have so much shame to unpack later, but right now I can’t think of anything except Thorne, can’t bring my thoughts to wander anywhere but my trapped mate and how I’m going to save him.

Mazus only shrugs. “I hoped that by convincing Laurel you betrayed her, it would push her into Thorne’s arms. From what I hear, it worked. And as for how , let’s just say only the tiniest drop of blood can unlock many doors that once seemed sealed shut.”

“If you do this, if you take him, it means war ,” I snarl with the aether-voice, but Mazus is unaffected. I lock that information away for later, unable to examine it now.

Mazus only laughs at me. “Oh, you stupid female. The war never ended . I just took my time between battles, honing my strategy until it was perfect. I thought I needed you, but turns out, I had the solution all along. I just needed the mating bond to officially snap into place so I could swap your blood for his.”

“But you didn’t plan for me to escape with your books. You can take him, but we still have the histories,” Nemesia hisses. This time, Mazus practically cackles, the infernal sound echoing hollowly through the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as tears of laughter gather in his eyes.

“This is why we don’t allow females into positions of power in Velmara. You’re so feebleminded. I let you escape. With the books. Last I had heard from Admon, these two idiots hadn’t accepted the mating bond yet. I needed you to come back with the books to provide the same information Admon already had to protect his cover, and I hoped the presence of her best friend would help Laurel accept Thorne.”

Nemesia stills, predatory gaze focused on Mazus. “And Genevieve?” she asks, a quiet intensity in her voice.

His eyes light with menacing delight. “She didn’t betray you, or at least not on purpose. We gave her a truth serum that forced her to reveal everything. I needed to be certain before you left that you’d made the right connections.”

“But… you… you killed her,” Nemesia chokes out, her arms circling her own waist. The move is vulnerable, heartbreaking, and something I’ve never seen my stalwart friend do. Mazus only shrugs.

“I didn’t care whether she lived or died, really. I would’ve been happy sending her back here with you. But her uncle had tired of her. It was a convenient excuse for him to do something he’s wanted to do for a century but couldn’t act on out of propriety. Your little relationship allowed him to kill her and save face with the many Kalmeera relatives he has.” Nemesia drops to the ground, completely defeated, her eyes staring off into nothing. Once again, there’s no one left to save me and my kingdom. I repeat the mantra I’ve repeated to myself nearly every day for three hundred years.

You are the last defense against Mazus . There is no one coming to save you . You must always save yourself .

I grind my teeth, strengthening my resolve and amending that mantra. He will not get away with this.

He will not take Thorne .

Closing my eyes, I focus on the nexus of four leylines that meet under the palace. I unstopper my connection to the aether, like I did only hours ago when battling Krantz. But this time, instead of just letting the aether flow into me, I pull on the current as hard as I can, absorbing every drop of the life blood of the world into my body. I shake with the effort of holding that much power at once without releasing it, and my brow heats. When I open my eyes, I’m glowing as brightly as I had when I ingested the thayar concentrate, and this time with no magical boost.

There’s a hunger in Mazus’s eyes, unbridled lust for my power. Despite the similarities between him and Thorne—the same eyes, the same jaw, the same nose—Mazus possesses none of Thorne’s warmth or charisma. With a roar that somehow reverberates with the aether-voice, I hurl every bit of magic I possess at the wall keeping me from my mate, my will entirely focused on freeing Thorne. I let aether run into and out of me, becoming my own leyline. The world seems to bend around me, and now I’m no longer pulling aether, but it’s still being forced into me in a torrential surge. I lose control over it, and now all I can do is exist while magic courses through me. My eyes sting, my vision blurs. I vaguely hear screaming, and I think it’s Nemesia begging me to stop. Or maybe it’s Fionn. The gentle and soothing murmur of Admon washes over my awareness, and it only drives me forward. The thing inside of me that has briefly opened its eyes on a few occasions now wakes up in a furious rage. Whatever has made me feel like more than myself not only blinks its eyes but completely overtakes me.

I become the aether, and my consciousness rises out of my body. Everything goes quiet and still, and I nearly sigh in relief at the calm that settles over me. I float over the room, surveying the scene with detached observation. Laurel—me—looks so incredibly broken. So does Nemesia. My spectral gaze finds Thorne, still fighting like hell to free himself of the bonds that won’t break, not without our blood. I swoop down to caress his face, even in this liminal state feeling the soul-deep thread that binds us. His nostrils flare, like he can sense me.

“I’ll be okay,” he whispers, or maybe thinks, since his mouth is still gagged with Mazus’s vile substance. I’m not sure how it works in this form. “Let me go. You’re killing yourself.” I don’t want to let go, would rather stay here by his side in my final moments than return to my body and face a reality where he’s gone. I know what being in this state is doing to me, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Live to fight another day, witchling. Please,” Thorne begs. The raw ache in his voice—his thoughts?—slams me back into my body, and the chaos and noise of the room erupts around me.

Once I’m corporeal again, the desire to let go of the aether fills me, but I can’t break free of it. It continues to surge through me, unrestrained. My palms are sweaty, and I slip in and out of consciousness. Thorne’s words repeat through my mind. Live to fight another day, witchling . Live . With an otherworldly and determined roar, I find the tap on my magic and slam it shut, hurling every bit of aether that remains in my body at Mazus and his wall, before collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Despite knowing what’s inevitable, I look up at the invisible wall that shimmers with Mazus’s dark magic, hoping that it will drop. The barrier wavers for a moment, but holds, and I deflate.

Mazus laughs, a deranged sound that makes his eyes flash yellow again, as tears stream down my face. I leap up and run at the barrier, getting hurled back, but I don’t stop. I’m not ready to accept defeat, not ready to accept what I know is going to happen. I keep running at it over and over again, screaming, shrieking, while Mazus looks on with euphoria.

Eventually, Nemesia, Fionn, and Carex restrain me. It takes their combined strength to hold me back, and even then, I blast them away from me with a force of magic that flings them to opposite corners of the room. A quiet voice whispers that I should check if my friends are okay, but I ignore it, too consumed with terror at losing my mate. Thorne thrashes in his bindings, clearly using every bit of strength he possesses to free himself, despite the words he whispered to me when I was in his mind.

“I tire of this pitiful display of affection. We’re done here. Enjoy losing your mind,” Mazus jeers.

I panic, remembering just two nights ago, when Thorne had professed his love for me, and I hadn’t said it back, even though I knew I felt it. Even though my aether-heart had screamed at me to tell him, to let down that final wall to this brilliant, beautiful male, I had remained silent. And at the festival, I planned to give him that ring and tell him then, but my words had failed me. Just hours ago, I wanted to whisper it to him in the quiet moments we had after the battle with Krantz, but decided to wait until there was more time .

And now my time has run out.

Thorne peeled away the calloused exterior I’ve worn for so long—too long—revealing a joyful, confident, compassionate female beneath, and I was too cowardly to give him those final, all-important words. I collapse, grief and rage washing over me in equal measure. I’m sobbing now, a black hole, everything I am caving in. My eyes meet Thorne’s one last time.

“I love you,” I whisper.

But he’s gone before the words make it out of my lips.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” I scream to the void, because Thorne is gone, and he can’t hear me.