A knock sounds at the door, signaling it’s time to leave, and Callum pulls back. He stands tall, and I stretch my neck to hold his gaze. We pause, a breath away, before the moment clears, and he walks me to the door.
This time, when the Guard leads me through the palace, I keep my head high. One hand rests on one of my daggers, and the other hangs confidently at my side. Callum walks beside me, silent and tall, and I burrow into the strength his presence offers when we meet the awaiting party at the end of the hallway.
Selia hangs on the king’s arm, while Wilder leans against a wall at the opposite side, watching me. Hazel is thankfully nowhere to be seen, but we’re being accompanied by quite a few guards to Tempest.
King Malachi’s eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by how blue they are. Clear as the sky above the courtyard, not a cloud in sight. I hadn’t realized there was a dullness around him lately, but this morning, he’s glowing. Practically refreshed. I wonder if it has anything to do with his escapades last night.
Selia appears unbothered beside him. I’ve never cared much about finding love when survival was always more important, but I can’t imagine having to turn a blind eye while my partner isunfaithful. Which is what she seems to do. Selia might be cold, but she deserves better than the king is offering her.
Her nails run down Malachi’s sleeve, keeping her back to her brother. She stares up into the king’s eyes, every so often glancing at the golden peaks of the crown atop his head. Maybe that’s more important to her than his faithfulness. Maybe she craves the safety of his crown, knowing her home realm will cease to exist once the Rite is complete.
Selia catches me staring and glares, careful not to let the king see it as he tugs her in my direction.
“You’ve had an eventful week.” He stops in front of me, his voice too smooth.
Too sweet.
“I survived.” I hold my head up, and he narrows his eyes ever so slightly.
The king’s gaze sweeps my outfit, likely noting that I’m not dressed in the gown he had delivered to my room for me to wear to Tempest. But he doesn’t say anything. He simply frowns, turning his back on me as he walks toward the awaiting Gateway.
While Arches are more permanent, staying where they are planted, Gateways can be formed anywhere at any moment, so long as there are Fae around with the magic to create them.
Wilder lifts off the wall, his eyes clearly making note of how close I’m standing to Callum. So I press closer, shutting myself off from him. I tighten my hold on the thread that ties us together, refusing to let him in now that I know he was the one who handed Isolde to the king to be killed.
I still haven’t figured out exactly how our connection works, but I’ve come as far as recognizing the thread that connects me to Wilder in my mind. All it takes is a solid clamp, and he can’t slip through.
I wrap my arm through Callum’s when he offers it, giving Wilder a final dismissive glance before following theking to the Gateway. At the periphery of my thoughts, I feel Wilder testing the boundary of our connection. His aether tickles the back of my neck, refusing to let go entirely.
“Are you ready?” Callum pauses at the Gateway.
This Gate is grander than the one that took me to Ruse Village with Greer. Branches surround it, forming a doorway on the wall. Sparkling flakes of magic dust the ground like fallen snow at its foot. Vines twist and weave, latching the Gate to the room. Gateways are the place between two places, and even before I step through it, I feel that shift. Where I’m here and there at the same time.
I press my palm to my stomach. It’s twisting already.
It only gets easier to move through the Gates, I remind myself.
Callum waits for me to walk ahead, and I hold my breath as I stand before the shining white light of Tempest. Through the shimmering veil is a glassy image of a mountain blanketed in snow.
My hands find the daggers at my sides as I take the final step through the Gate. The warmth of the palace slowly melts away, and a chilled breeze nips at my ears. A dot of snow lands on my cheek, and I look up at the snowfall. It flecks my lashes and dots my face.
With a final step, I cross through to Tempest.
Chapter 33
Elorie
Almost immediately uponexiting the Gateway, I’m led through another that brings us to the peaks where the temples sit. It sends my stomach swimming. At least this crossing is nothing like it was traveling to and from Ruse Village. My head clears after a few blinks. There’s no sudden urge to vomit.
Ahead of me, a white temple stands, carved into the mountain. Silver veins thread through the rock, perfectly polished and glowing.
I glance over my shoulder to see the Gateway already closing, revealing a view that steals my breath. We’re atop the tallest peak in Tempest. From here, the villages are dots with small pillars of smoke marking where they hide in the snow-covered valley. Snow dusts the lands, but unlike the blizzard cover on Alyssium, it’s warmer here. It falls quietly from the sky. No breeze or icy gusts.
A white blanket of winter meets a gray-blue sky. Mountains stretch as far as the eye can see.
Tempest, the holy land.
The gods-kissed peaks.
