Chapter 52
Elorie
“My queen.”Wilder drops to a knee.
I’ve never seen him bow to anyone, but his head drops for his mother.
Across the ring, I notice Selia’s cheeks pale. Thunder stirs in the air as Queen Delayna walks toward the altar. Her toe reaches the edge, and she pauses, which is when I notice the slightest flicker.
Her face cracks, like the webs in the windows when I try to stare through them. A mask that paints another image over what’s really there.
“What is this?” Wilder shoves to his feet. “This is not my queen. This sight was stolen.”
Rage courses through the thread between us, rattling my heart with every beat of his.
King Malachi grins, twisting the orb around his neck until the queen flickers again, and this time, a scythe slices through her neck, sending blood splattering as her head rolls. “The queen is dead.”
Selia’s eyes are stone cold while Wilder’s bloom with rage. Hishands clasp, but no magic crackles in the air with the trap that entombs us. My own frustrations wane as Wilder’s pain crashes through me. It rips at my heart until it’s nearly unbearable.
I reach for him because I can’t help it. This need to soothe him. To heal him. To wash away his hurt is overwhelming.
My mate.
His gaze shoots to mine, and I know he heard me. The mark on my chest burns as those two words settle. As I accept them. Maybe a part of me has known since the prison. It was simply buried so deep I didn’t know what to make of it. I recognized myself in his eyes. I recognizedus.
Wilder reaches for me again, and this time, I don’t pull away. His fingers twine through mine, and he brushes his thumb over the back of my hand. Anger is still a heady turbulence inside him, but the crashing waves have subsided.
King Malachi twists his fingers on the orb again, cycling the vision back to that of the queen alive. The image is more distant. She’s on a balcony overlooking a forest so lush it sings. Every leaf and branch stir with magic. It’s somewhere I’ve never been, and yet, my heart longs for it like it’s my home.
Wilder squeezes my hand, and I rest my other hand on his forearm. This ishishome. A memory from it. A vision of his queen speaking with his father, the king.
It’s clear that both Wilder and Selia take after their mother. Apart from the same dark hair and bronze skin, they all share a similar nose. While Wilder’s features are more angular, they’re both clearly descendants of their queen.
In the vision playing in front of us, the queen stands at the ledge that overlooks the forest.
“Wilder is the key to the Well. The gods’ blessed. And he will lead us to the other,” Queen Delayna says.
“You’re sure?”
She nods, and her emotionless expression reminds me of her son. “His magic is not of this realm, Redsen. It is not that of lightning like they whisper. Darvel said that when it woke, it was fragments, and that Wilder has been careful to shape it, hiding its true nature from me. He’s wielding the aether.”
King Redsen’s eyes widen. “There is no such thing. Only Davorian wields the aether. It is a magic of the gods.”
“Exactly.” The Queen turns. “And so it is written that the realms were gifted with pieces of the gods. And that within each realm would be a drop of magic to wake only for the gods’ blessed.”
“You quote the old text.”
She nods. “Wilder has been blessed by the gods with the heart of our realm. With the magic of Davorian.”
“That’s impossible. The heart of the realm sleeps for a reason. Millenia have passed, and it has never stirred for the Fae.”
“It woke for Wilder. I do not know how or why, but it did.” The queen stops in front of the king. “That night Wilder was born, I felt the shift in the stars. Something opened, and the realm gave him the gift of its very own magic.”
“Have you summoned Wilder from Andare to tell him? If he holds the magic of the heart of the realm, he might be able to heal the damage of the Collision.”
She shakes her head, frowning. “It’s not that simple anymore. Our magic has twined with that of Lyrichia. The Well muddles us together. Wilder’s magic will not heal us on its own anymore. Not unless we find the gods’ blessed from Lyrichia as well. Only together can they stave off the Well.”
“There is no celestial wielder in Lyrichia. The spies would have heard. Just because the heart of Vaelier woke doesn’t mean it did there.”
