Callum steps closer. “The king is right. It’s your choice in the end, Elorie. No matter how many enter the Rite, magic can’t be stolen. You have to give it freely, and when the finalceremony comes, all you have to do is choose King Malachi to seal the soul bind. That choice can’t be taken from you.”
“Unless you decide to change your mind,” Wilder croons, amused at the thought of killing an entire kingdom.
Of the humans suffering with it.
“I won’t.” I glare at him. “I promised to save Lyrichia.”
“If you survive.”
My teeth clench as I turn to the king. “If I drink this, and I survive the Rite, do you swear what he’s saying is true? No loopholes? My magic is mine to offer.”
“If magic could be stolen to change the tide in this war, we’d have found a way to use that to our advantage already.”
That’s an unsettling thought and not really an answer, but I choose to ignore it.
“Then I choose you. Now and during the Rite, I will choose you.” I lift the chalice to my lips and drink, sealing the promise.
The liquid is sour and thick. It coats my throat on the way down, and my head instantly swims.
“Palemor blood,” King Malachi says when I grimace.
I thought Palemors were only found deep at sea, but I’m learning there’s much I don’t know, so I could be wrong.
Wilder steps forward, stealing the chalice from my hand. He downs the swig of blood like it’s nothing, shoving it back at Malachi when he’s done.
“Enjoy her while you have her.” Wilder steps back, his gaze darting between the two of us. “When she’s mine, I won’t shove you in a prison like a coward. I’ll let you watch while I Cleave everyone you care about.”
Wilder offers a single glance to Selia, who still won’t look at him, before turning to leave.
“I assume the royal guest quarters are still open,” he says, keeping his hands in his pockets as he walks away.
The king stiffens, watching him but not responding.
With a final glance over his shoulder, Wilder’s golden eyes meet mine.“See you soon, Starfire.”
“I won’t change my mind.”
“Ah, how I’ve missed your determination giving me a headache.”
Chapter 12
Wilder
Silence.
My teeth clench as I wait for the next beat. The gap between them is almost as painful as my heart thudding against my chest. Each heartbeat is fractionally quicker than the last. A steady surge that blurs my focus.
Thump.
Silence.
Thump.
I wait for the empty void to consume me like it did in the prison. For my blood to turn cold, seeking that which it could not reach. Except here, magic prickles through my arms. Needling at my skin and scratching at my bones.
It’s a different form of torture when it’s yet to slow what hammers loud and quick in my chest.
Nothing is truly immortal. Especially not now. But with death nipping at my thoughts, luring me with its song, I hum in response.
