“Blood is the easiest way magic can be stolen.” He frowns.
“I thought the king said magic can’t be stolen, only offered.”
“In a binding ceremony, yes, because that’s the only way it’s sustainable. But magic can technically still be stolen, even if it’s not of much use long term. Stolen magic burns hot and then burns out quickly. It doesn’t last long if not given freely.”
“So why would someone steal it?”
Something dark crosses Callum’s expression as my hair breezes at my shoulders. The warmth of the room closes in, as if he’s placed us in a cocoon.
“At the edges of the Well, where magic is scarce, Fae are getting desperate.” His voice is low.
“How desperate?”
“Very.” Callum bares his teeth, letting his fangs drop from his gums. The sharpened points glitter in the light before he retracts them. “The quickest way to recharge magic is with blood sharing. Which, when it’s voluntary, is extremely effective. It can be used for quick healing, sustaining, or…”
“Pleasure,” I finish, remembering the stories whispered around the village every time a human would bed a guard.
Callum rakes his hair back, avoiding my gaze. “Exactly. But there are Fae who are so desperate, they’ll drink whether it’s offered or not. Blood is the quickest way to absorb fresh magic, and it’s more potent when it’s stolen. That rush becomes addictive.It overtakes them until they become something else entirely.”
My stomach swirls, considering what’s become of the territories close to the Well. What twisted things the Well is turning those Fae into. They’re feeding on each other. Draining each other. The desperation I felt on Alyssium isn’t isolated. The entire realm is suffering.
“You need rest, not more nightmares.” Callum climbs off the bed.
“I needed the truth.” I look up at him, wishing he’d stay but not feeling brave enough to ask. “Thank you for telling me.”
He nods, and it feels like we’ve bridged a gap.
“I’ll see you at dinner, Elorie.”
“Yes, then we can both stand around and not eat together.”
He chuckles, turning his back to me. But when his hand lands on the doorknob, I remember something Hazel said.
“Wait.” I push to the edge of the bed. “Who is your father? Hazel mentioned him like he’s here at the palace, but you’ve never talked about him.”
Callum freezes with his back still to me. “Cyan.”
“King Malachi’s adviser?”
“Unfortunately.” He doesn’t offer more as he leaves the room, and I get the impression he doesn’t want me to ask.
When I lie back down, I don’t sleep. And even if my magic is still struggling, I’m no longer tired.
Chapter 20
Elorie
It’s notunusual for me to keep my distance from Hazel, but tonight I avoid her side of the room entirely. She sits on her throne beside the king’s, watching his court flit about. Her chair is decorated in fragments of black stone that I now realize are obsidian.
She’s surrounded by it.
Wearing it.
Black rings wrap two of her fingers, and one ear has an obsidian stud. The suffocating weight of the stone was unbearable for the few days I was chained, so I can’t imagine walking around adorned by it every day. Maybe it doesn’t press as heavily against her magic as it did mine.
There’s nothing in her expression to indicate it hurts her.
I shiver at the thought of the power that thrums in her blood—the power that channeled through me earlier today and nearly stripped me of my soul. Hazel’s magic is so wild and strong that she can’t trust herself not to accidentally unleash it.
