“You’re truly saving the best for last,” he whispers, voice like embers and honey. “Be careful, darling…Once you’re in my lands, you might never want to leave.”
The words curl down my spine, gripping me. I step back slowly, heart thudding as he lifts my hand to press a kiss there.
“Alright,” Sylvin drawls from beside the glowing portal, drawing my attention to his half-extended arms,“this is bordering on cruelty now.”
I turn toward him fully as he raises a single brow, the corners of his mouth tilting up with lazy amusement. “I’m standing here offering warmth, charm, and a portal made of hand-spun winter magic, and yet I’m the only one still without a hug.”
Riven scoffs.
Sylvin’s gaze flicks to Riven, then Torryn, then back to me, eyes glinting not with amusement like normal–but with desire. “I do hope you’re not forgetting that I am also very much so interested in being wanted by you, despite my theatrics.”
My breath catches at the weight behind the words, heavier than his usual games.
The poem, the quiet truth in his eyes, the way he pointed out the shadows when no one else did…it all tugs at my heart.
Suddenly, I want to know more than just the Sylvin who smiles for show. I want to know the one he seems hesitant to let me see.
Chapter 16
Wren
The moment I step through the portal, winter wraps around me in a breathless gasp. It’s the type of cold that bites at any skin not covered by clothes, brushing over it with a delicate sting. The magic from the portal lingers as it drifts behind me, brushing over my arms like threads made of mist and ice.
I exhale slowly, my breath blooming into a cloud that vanishes just as quickly.
Sylvin waits with one hand extended toward me, the pale light of the portal painting his skin silver-blue before dissolving in the next heartbeat. Behind him, the world unfolds into a kingdom kissed by frost and magic, illuminated by the perfectly clear sky and the moonlight streaming down.
My mouth parts in awe as I take in the snow-dusted evergreens and the way their limbs bow beneath the weight. The castle looms, elegant and deadly in its beauty. Dark towers wrapped in climbing ice, spires sharp enough to pierce the sky. Every inch of it glows faintly, like starlight caught in glass. The windows flicker with blue-white light and frost curls along the edges in spiraling patterns.
Sylvin’s expression softens into a smile that feels almost real.
“Welcome to my land, little echo.”
His voice slides around me like silk, and just as I lift my hand with the intent to place it in his, my body tenses up. Any wonder I felt is quickly snatched away and replaced with the subtle dread coiling in my chest, sending sharp pains through me.
Beneath the snow-covered splendor, there’s somethingwrong.
Before I can step closer to Sylvin or give voice to that unease, a figure rushes around the castle’s outer wall. Snow kicks up in a plume behind him as he sprints toward us, panting hard. His uniform is dark navy with perfectly pressed lines to his pants. A silver insignia shines on his chest where it’s pinned.
“Your Majesty!” he calls, skidding to a halt, eyes wide with panic. “Human naval vessels have made landfall after approaching from the Pacific.”
Sylvin’s entire demeanorshifts.
Gone is the teasing smirk and constant mirth dancing in his eyes.
He steps forward once, his boot crunching into the snow.
“How many ships, Grayson?” Sylvin’s voice is quiet but cuts through the howling wind.
A shiver runs down my spine, not from the cold, but from this new version of Sylvin emerging in front of my eyes.
The general’s face blanches further. “At least five ships made it to shore. They’re advancing. Units are being deployed to intercept but…we were caught off guard.”
A low boom shudders through the night like underwater thunder, and the ground jolts beneath my boots.
I stagger, breath catching as the shockwave pulses outward, rattling the air and splitting the stillness.
Beneath the stone and snow I feel it…the earth crying out.
