Page 232 of The Edge of Darkness

She loved me. Despite knowing I couldn’t say it back. Despite knowing that my capability had been suppressed and locked away, out of my reach.

“And when we break the curse,” she continued, “when it’s over, and you belong to yourself again, I’ll be right here.” There was a fire in her eyes, burning from somewhere deep.

“Maeson, I . . .” I couldn’t find the words.

She would wait for me, even if I told her not to. Even if I told her there was a chance I wouldn’t remember who she was after the power was gone.

That thought put a terrible strain on my heart.

In the end, there was no guarantee any of it would work. The spell, the Zaldora, my sheer willpower . . . What could words and plants and wishes do against a power rooted in the unknown?

If I failed, if the Aether still remained after the spell was cast . . . What would happen then? I couldn’t go on like this, knowing Maeson loved me, and that I was stuck inside a soul-sucking vise that constricted my emotional capability, forever denying her what she deserved.

I pulled her into my body and buried my face in her neck, clutching onto her like she was the lone tether I had to this world—to myself. There was no holding back. A sound escaped me, and I heaved in a breath.

Then, I broke down and wept.

I knew that I loved her too. That somewhere, in the shred of a soul that was still mine, I was capable of feeling it. And one day soon, I would unleash everything.

My voice was a muffled mess against her neck as I squeezed her tight and pleaded, “Just hold on a little longer.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, rounding her face and dripping onto mine as she held me tightly.

Emotion overcame me, and a sudden multitude of voices whipped through my head in a chaotic chorus, taking every conscious thought with it until I was straining to focus on just existing. My tether to reality was slipping through my fingers like sand. But I held on, dying to have one moment to myself, longing to sever the rope between my mind and my power.

Desperate, I pushed past the voices and sifted through the torrent, scrambling for the link back to Maeson—back to me. And then I heard it . . . the sweet sound of her voice amongst many. It echoed through the Aether’s storm, wrapping around me like her embrace, tugging me back from the tempest in my mind.

“I’ll never let go,” she said. “Do you hear me, Aremis? I will never let go.”

The dinner table was set for eight. Instead of dining in one of the normal spots in The Keep, I had brought out a long, wooden table to the center of The Keep’s main patio using my telekinesis. It was the biggest item I’d attempted to move so far, and I was surprised with how overwhelmingly easy it was to just send it through the air on a thought.

The weather was perfect. The air was calm, allowing for all the candles to remain lit without issue. I traced my fingers over the chairbacks, counting the gold plates at each place setting—one for Aremis, Maeson, Roirdan, Nivelle, Silas, Remic, Niall, and myself.

Our group had been separated for a few days, each of us overseeing some sort of duty that pulled us in different directions. But now that everyone was home and under one roof again, I figured I would throw a small dinner party. We needed a relaxing gathering where we could sit and enjoy an unhurried meal and each other’s company.

I’d spent the afternoon planning and commissioning a delicious menu with the help of the kitchen staff. Each platter of steaming meats and roasted vegetables smelled as divine as they looked. Sorscha helped decorate, and had kept me full of her now-famous cinnamon sugar toast while I worked. The table was strewn with the candles that Amarna had kept from our wedding and stashed away in The Keep’s storage rooms. The flowers I borrowed from the freshly-picked bundles in Maeson’s cottage, with the promise to replenish them later.

I’d never set a table this big, nor with such grand cutlery. The fae ate with four-pronged forks, and had knives as sharp as daggers. They made the two-pronged utensils in the human realm feel rudimentary and primitive. Our dull, serrated knives were fit for harsher cuts of meat and unsalted blocks of butter rather than the finer dining options of this realm.

I took it all in, appreciating every moment, every exquisite chisel mark on the handle of each utensil, and the gold-stitched hem of each napkin that bore Calledan’s crest of the mountain range beneath a warrior’s helm.

The sun was just sinking behind the highest mountain peak in the distance when I finally took a step back and smiled at our work. Next to me, Sorscha smiled too, bright, and full of sharp teeth. She snapped her fingers and each goblet filled itself to the brim with a fizzing, golden liquid.

Near the doors, Wrynn stretched lazily from where she had been watching us all afternoon. Her stretch quickly turned into a startled jump as the doors suddenly opened, and Silas strolled out, wearing a crimson-colored shirt I’d never seen, and a pair of tailored, dark brown pants. I gave him a once-over and arched a brow.

“Velle was kind enough to bring some of my wardrobe back with her from the isles,” he explained.

“Red’s a pretty bold color for you, wouldn’t you say?” I teased.

“Matches my eyes,” he said, grinning as both his irises and the faint markings along his temples pulsed red on command.

I laughed. “Cool party trick.” I handed him a goblet and toasted him. “To being the first to arrive.”

He lifted the drink and nodded, then surveyed the table, humming with approval. “You put all this together yourself?”

“With Sorscha’s help.”

The Ancient Fae beamed from where she stood at the head of the table, barely visible behind the chair she peered around.