In a blink, there’s nothing but emptiness, unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Unlike the void I met in the prison. This isn’t magic; it’s the opposite.
It’s nothing at all.
As quickly as the darkness claims Wilder’s magic, it tunnels back in, and light returns to the room. At the center, behind Wilder, is a woman I’ve never seen before. Her long black hair hangs nearly to her waist. Her cheeks are pale. There’s not a hint of a blush on her porcelain skin. The blackness in her eyes is an endless abyss as she stares at the back of Wilder’s head. Black, shadowy vines climb her arms, wisping around her.
Her very presence sends a chill through me.
Wilder smirks, relaxed as ever, when he dips his hands into his pockets. Not bothering to so much as turn and look at the woman who flooded the room with a midnight drain ofmagic.
Around are the bodies of the Fae Wilder killed without blinking. The guards quickly begin to cart them away.
“Hazel.” The corner of Wilder’s mouth lifts. “Still fighting your brother’s battles, I see.”
Her brother?
Hazel shows no emotion as she walks forward. Her black dress shimmers with purple at every step. Dark webs of her shadowy magic weave up her arms, spitting from her fingertips. Her gaze sets on the king, and I search for any resemblance, but she looks nothing like her brother.
The shadow to his light.
Hazel says nothing as she stops in front of me first, skimming me up and down once before walking to stand beside Selia and King Malachi. While the two of them have a golden glow, there is no light around Hazel. Simply darkness.
Wilder’s gaze slides from Hazel to the king. “Even your sister isn’t strong enough to take me down, and you know it. So, unless you have your entire Guard standing by so you can stab me in the back again, I suggest you tell her to keep her party tricks at bay.”
Amusement has vanished from King Malachi’s face. “Why are you here? You’re free now. Surely you have something greater planned than digging up old grudges.”
Wilder hums, and it sends a shiver through me. “I’m here as is my right. After all, a royal Rite is to be offered to all willing of royal blood before it is performed, is it not?”
King Malachi’s back stiffens at that comment. It’s the first nervous reaction I’ve caught from him when he seems generally unfazed.
“You have no claim to this Rite.” The king’s jaw tightens. “This is not your realm.”
“Correct, Vaelier is my realm. But as you know, the Well muddles the magic of our realms at the moment, making my place in the Rite as valid as yours.”
Malachi plants a hand on my back, and Wilder’s gaze follows the movement. “Don’t tell me you’re interested in playing savior now that you’re free. From what I remember, you let your people suffer long before your queen met her bitter end.”
“Who says I want to save anything? The Rite is a long shot with the realms this weak anyway.” Wilder looks around the room. “Maybe I’m here just to ensure you all Cleave.”
“You can’t.” I shake my head, and Wilder’s gaze lands on me with such intensity, I wonder if I really should be drawing his attention.
“I can.” He steps forward, lifting his hand. Sparks weave through the air until they’re caressing my chin. “And I will.”
“I won’t enter the Rite with you.” I pull back, refusing to offer him my magic just so he can destroy Lyrichia with it.
“That’s not your choice.” His gaze slides to the king. “Isn’t that right, Malachi? So long as a Rite is being performed, any of royal blood may enter for a chance to bind at the end.”
“Well, then I won’t enter the Rite at all.” I shove the chalice toward the king, but my eyes don’t leave Wilder’s. “I refuse to enter so you can kill Lyrichia.”
“You refuse, and your people die anyway.”
“Get out of my head.”
Wilder chuckles, and the king’s gaze moves between us. He rests his hands over mine on the chalice, pushing it toward me.
“This changes nothing, Elorie. Regardless of what Wilder does, the choice is still yours. Tell her, Wilhelm.”
The king must really be grasping at straws if he’s asking Callum to explain it to me. He knows I trust him—ortrustedhim.
I look up at Callum over my shoulder, biting my lip.
