When the quiet of the cells holds fast, I push against the wall in my mind only to find that, while I can feel that Rooke is alive, that’s it. I could push for more, but there’s no urgency right now, at least not for me, and distraction could get her killed. Instead, I focus on my magic.
Mindful of Rooke’s warning, I’m slow to reach for it at first and instead learn where it lies within me, gently prodding to gauge how much of it there is, what it feels like when left alone.Awareness of the iron bars caging me slips away and, after what feels like hours of assessment, I reach for it.
It answers me easily, a ripple working through my blood until it reaches my heart and causes it to stutter, but I grasp tightly to it even as my lungs burn in my chest and the pressure threatens to tear my body apart. Rooke pushes against the wall between us, but now I’m the one holding it up, keeping this pain away from her as I claim what is mine. Unflinching, unrelenting, immovable, I hold true, and all at once the tension breaks, the power yielding to me and the violent roil bubbling down to a simmer once more.
My eyes flick open as I push my magic out, casting it around the cell until finally it shimmers around us. The marble at my feet shines with a blue hue, and gasps ring out around us until all at once they’re cut off by the wall of power I have built. A pride I haven’t felt in centuries floods me, the same I felt the first time I stepped into the sparring ring and knew my dedication to training had rendered me unmatched. There’s a long road ahead to master wielding my magic, but I’ve never shied away from hard work.
With a long exhale I turn to face Gage, the magic surrounding us both and able to obscure our words from the rest of the cells, as I’ve seen Tyton and Rooke do thousands of times between them.
His skin sallow and eyebrows raised sharply, Gage whips back his tail as though startled. “What in theashesis that?”
I scowl back at him before looking at the magic, the guards hazy beyond its bounds. “I can’t be absolutely certain it's soundproof, so choose your words with care. It’s the first time I’ve cast… anything. On purpose, at least.”
He gapes at me openly before cursing, shaking his head as though trying to shift a fog. “I can’t hear anything outside thebarrier, it's holding true, but that’s not—you've cast throughiron, Prince Soren.”
I shrug back with a derisive chuckle. “Rooke does it all the time—she proved iron is useless with enough magic.”
He blinks at me, his eyes slowly narrowing. “That's true, but she’s also a Favored Child, the Ravenswyrd Mother. Fates fucking mercies, Celestial, she cast theunmakingof Ureen in the Fates War, of course iron means nothing to her!”
The exaltation in his tone breaks my grip on my temper and my sanity, her name spoken with such reverence that I’m suffused with the need to bleed him out to ensure he never sets eyes on her again. My spine snaps straight as I turn toward him, a snarl bursting out of my chest with a violence that rattles the bars between us. He stares at me for a heartbeat, unflinching but cautious, before his head drops slightly, never breaking our eye contact. It’s respectful, an acknowledgment that Rooke is mine alone.
“I was commanded by the Fates to wait until the Favored Child returned to the Southern Lands before seeking out my mate. Only then could the kingdom be saved from the Betrayer’s campaign and the whims of all those who’ve forgotten. The command of the Fates alone has kept me from coming here to find her and take her far away from this place. My respect for your Fates-blessed mate is for her birthright, her abilities, the tales of her time in the Sol Army, and for her bonds with my own fate. To get my mate out of Yris, I’d walk barefoot and bloody through the ashes to the gates of Elysium at Rooke’s suggestion. I am no threat to your claim, and I’ll gut anyone stupid enough to threaten it.”
He doesn’t lower his gaze, his eyes clear, intimating that he’s prepared to put action behind his words without second thought. I give him a curt nod and turn away, forcing my lungs to work evenly until the fury-haze clears. I don’t know how longI’ll have to bear this shortened temper, but only those prepared to swear oaths as strong as that one will survive it.
I watch the shadows of the guards moving beyond my magic until I can speak again without snarling. “What do you know of her time in the Northern Lands? How did you hear of it?”
From the corner of my eye, I see the long look he gives me, his answer slow but honest. “I heard of it the same way I’m sure you heard tales, only my people listen to stories about all of the soldiers and not just the high fae.”
His careful approach makes sense, but I’ve already accepted that my bloodline is responsible for countless injustices. “Tell me something. Do you know how she was injured?”
He nods, and his brow furrows at the expectant look I give him. “How exactly didthattale of the Fates War slip your notice? Although… I suppose it makes sense. You would’ve never imprisoned her had you known who she was. Actually, a lot of your actions make sense now. My father will be relieved.”
“Tell me.”
He hesitates before sending me another long look. “I’m not sure that’s wise, Prince Soren. Not right now, in this castle, with Rooke already separated from us. I will say that I want to run that Ancient through with my sword for speaking about her like that. She deserves far more respect, and no one in that hall knows that better than him.”
When I seethe with frustration, Gage steers the conversation back to his other concerns. “Most fae will never wield enough magic to cast through iron, and even those who can need extensive training. I felt you get stronger as you were sleeping but—I didn’t think—how much more of this power do you have?”
I shrug, too frustrated at my ignorance to keep feeling pride in my efforts. “I have no idea the depths of what I'll be able to do someday, but for now it's enough to convince the forests thatI’m not a Betrayer so they’ll wake at Rooke’s command without attacking us both.”
There’s a flurry of movement outside of the lines of my magic as more guards arrive, their faces blurred beyond my recognition. I want to push Gage about his knowledge of the Fates War and Rooke’s service there, but time is running out. Our priorities have to be the same, or we’ll fall to my uncle’s games.
“Is she safe?”
Gage’s eyebrows creep up his forehead. “I woke from the magic once we were out of the King’s Chambers, but I could hear her still, and she was perfectly fine?—”
I cut him off. “Not Rooke.”
He pauses carefully, eyeing the magic barrier, before finally he gives me a sharp nod. “As safe as any can be in this Fates-cursed shithole.”
Despite myself, a dry chuckle falls from my lips. “I’ve never heard anyone call it that. Everyone else seems to think it’s a wondrous marvel to covet and crave.”
He shrugs. “It’s just a castle, and a dead one at that. Yregar is far better, even with all that Balzog’s hordes did to it. Ashes above, Yrmont would have you lot weeping in envy at first glance.”
I haven’t heard that name in centuries, the fabled castle in the Briarfrost Territories no high fae outside of King Galen’s bloodline has seen, much less stepped foot in, for generations. Dozens of descriptions were recorded, whispered about, questioned and scoffed at, but the true nature of the castle slipped from our memories the same way our magic did, lost in time thanks to our arrogance and the turmoil that stems from it.
Gage stares at his hands, flexing them, before he glances back up at the guards beyond my wall of magic. “The stories I've ever heard coming out of this castle from my people are indescribablycruel, and the violence against my mate is even worse. I don't care how fucking pretty it is, I’ll level the entire mountain for the things that have been done to her within these walls.”
