“I will ask her,” I told him, and he gave a distracted nod before he seemed to regain his composure and turned his attention back to Nuala.
“So you think Ornella could use her natural gift for travelling through the Tithriall in combination with our ability to open portals?” he verified, and she nodded.
“Have you ever heard stories of fey who could weave antithetical magics?” I asked Carrick.
“I have not,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered. “It is especially impressive that she was able to make Light and Shadow collaborate.”
“I do not carehowshe does it, only that she can do it quickly,” declared Ciaran brusquely. “She is probably in need of a distraction now, so will you get her or shall I?”
“You are not going anywhere near her until I speak to her first,” I said, knowing full well that any interaction between them at this time was a recipe for disaster.
“Rian, the Spring fey need to go.Now,” he implored, and I sighed with a nod. I had hoped to be able to take my time with Ornella, coax her from her mourning with the same care andcaution one might use with a tierak.
“Alright,” I sighed, snatching a bottle of liquor off the table on my way to the door. “I will go and get her.”
Chapter eight
I STILL FEEL HIM
Ornella
Everything was numb except for the flutter in my chest, like a butterfly trapped under my sternum. We had only just established the connection, and now it was stretched so thin that the gods only knew where Sage was taken. But the bond was still there. Some small piece of him was still thrumming away in my chest like a second heartbeat, and I clung to it desperately. Terrified to let it slip away.
I could not get our final moments together out of my fucking head. I could not unsee the hateful expression on Riordan’s face as he faced off with us. I could not unhear Rian’s screams or forget his utter determination to protect his cousin. And I could never forgive Amira’s inaction as Sage was dragged away from me…
Whydid the Tithriall make me save her?Whydid I meet myanamafter all this time only for him to be ripped away from me by the friend I thought I could trust?
Why was I being punished again?
There was no answer from the Tithriall. Nothing but a silence that seemed to mourn all that had been lost. Sage. The Spring Court. Millions of lives just…gone…
I heard the sound of liquid sloshing against glass and snapped out of my semiconscious haze. I flipped over in bed with my claws extending instinctively in preparation to defend myself. Only to find Rian sitting on the floor, his back to me, leaningagainst my mattress. One of his arms was slung over his bent knee with the neck of a bottle clenched in long fingers covered in jewelled rings. His other hand leisurely stroked Serafin’s head where the black vargr lay on the ground next to him with his chin resting on Rian’s thigh.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I demanded, wincing from the ache in my throat and the way my voice still came out so thin and rough from screaming. It was on the tip of my tongue to demand how he managed to sneak up on me, but I clamped my mouth shut. I did not want to think about how oblivious this anguish was making me.
Rian did not turn, which was probably best since the silk sheet had slipped down my torso. I didn’t usually think twice about nudity, but I knew the aes sídhe were more sensitive to it, so I covered my breasts again.
“I came to see if you’re ready to leave this bedroom,” Rian replied, lifting the bottle to his lips again. The scent of apples and cinnamon drifted to me as he tipped the liquor into his mouth.
“Are you my new chaperone now that Sage is gone? You still don’t trust me in your encampment,” I guessed.
The defensive accusation had been flung at him before I could stop it, and I instantly felt a crushing regret and frustration with myself. I hated that my first instinct was still to be cruel when I was hurt, especially since I had thought I’d gotten much better at controlling the impulse. Perhaps only Sage would ever coax that softness out of me or perhaps it was to be expected when anyone felt like a rabid beast had shredded their insides apart. Either way, I was determined not to regress into those terrible habits.
Besides, every ounce of the vitriol churning within me needed to be saved for the real enemies.
“I am sorry,” I forced myself to whisper.
Rian released a long-suffering sigh and offered me the bottle over his shoulder. After only a second of hesitation, I grabbed itfrom him and lifted it to my lips to chug the wine even though it stung my raw throat. When I finally lowered the bottle, I saw Rian had turned slightly to look up at me from over one broad shoulder.
“We agreed to get him back,” he reminded me with a patient tone that reminded me too much of Sage.
Tears instantly stung my eyes and an ache worked its way up my throat at his words, so I turned my face away from him to focus on Pyrope who lay beside me. She had shifted closer again after I flung myself around to face the Autumn Prince, and her red wing rested across my legs.
“Please tell me you still… feel him,” Rian pleaded.
The anguish in his voice only fed the growing urge to start sobbing again, but I refused to cry in front of him or anyone else. So I extended my claws until they pierced into both of my palms, distracting me with physical pain. Pyrope whined when the flowery scent of my blood filled the air, but I ignored her as I regained my composure.
“I still feel him.”
