Wilder presses his forehead to mine, looking into my eyes as I reach the precipice of my release. Something new swells inside me. A bind that snaps tight. Permanent in a way we can never be.
It courses a chant in my heart as we both come undone.
“Mine. Mine. Mine.”
“Yours. Yours. Yours.”His sings in return.
Or maybe I just wish it.
Chapter 50
Elorie
The altar is madeof dead stone.
Not that any stone is living in the sense of movement or memory, but this stone has been drained of all remnants of magic.
I’d never noticed the emptiness of the rocks on the shore of Alyssium because I didn’t know the difference until coming to Lyrichia and picking up a pebble. It practically sang. Like the trees whisper or the flowers gossip in unspeakable tongues.
But this altar before me reminds me of the rocks back home.
Quiet and cold.
Pressing my fingers to the rough edge, I search for any heartbeat. Any hum. I’m met with nothing.
Callum pauses at my side, and I look up to find him searching the sky as the sun sinks below the horizon and the moon starts to glow. The faintest breeze tickles the back of my neck as his magic reaches outward, stopping at the wall of dead stone on the altar.
It’s only the two of us in the courtyard, with a few guards lingering at the edges. Greer is one of them, standing by the doorway and waiting for the king. She offered me a tight smile that felt more like an apology than well-wishes when I arrived.
Given King Malachi’s penchant for a spectacle, I expected something grander than a circle of stone in an empty courtyard. There’s no audience apart from the Crown Guard lining every exit. I suppose he’s taking precautions in case something goes wrong, and my magic can’t withstand the ritual.
“White as snow.” Callum’s gaze falls to my dress.
Pure white like the onslaught of a blizzard, sparkling with colorless gems that shimmer.
The dress is beautiful and fits me perfectly, but that does nothing to ease the weight settling over my heart. The sleeves are transparent, secured with silver cuffs at my wrists. It fits snugly to my chest but then flows out at my legs. It’s more translucent at the bottom than it is at the top, until there’s nothing but a whisp of fabric fluttering in Callum’s breeze.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Wearing white in celebration.” I graze my fingers over the front of the dress, and Callum frowns.
On Alyssium, white is worn to funerals. It’s used to dress the dead. It’s a sign of mourning. While the Fae wear white in celebration, it represents nothing but the bitter cold snow that spreads sickness and famine during rough winters back home.
Here I stand, dressed for death in a ceremony that may very well kill me. And even if it doesn’t, many others will perish.
Callum is dressed in white as well. A white cape hangs over his Crown Guard armor. A single pin with two feathers holds it in place.
“If things don’t go how they’re supposed to, do you think you’ll return to Alyssium?” I ask him.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“I’m just curious.” I bite my lower lip. “If the passage opens and you can go back, will you promise to check on Letia for me?”
He nods, even if it’s clear he doesn’t want to think about it.
“Thank you.” My whisper is drowned out by a bellow of voices coming from the doorway.
The king steps outside wearing all gold except his royal blue cape. He walks through the arch with Selia a step behind him. She’s wearing gray, like a living, breathing storm cloud. Her dress is intricately woven and tight around her torso. Her dark hair is pinned away from her face on one side, showing off the silver winged earrings she so often wears. Behind them is Hazel, dressed in all black, followed by guards keeping a safe distance.
Hazel’s black hair hardly moves at her shoulders, unaffected by the breeze Callum weaves through the courtyard. Her dress cuts low in the front. At either hip is a slit that shows off her long, pale legs with each step. The dress shines with the illusion of night as shadows dance at her fingertips, stretching farther up her arms than she usually allows.
