Page 114 of The Reaping Rose

Each beat is a steady crash that rattles my senses. It surges in my ears, vibrates through my bones.

I catch my breath, waiting for it to calm. It never slows anymore, but the pace evens out.

“I’ll be fine.” I blink my eyes open, taking another sip.

“Atlas hasn’t been able to find anything in the old texts that might help us reverse the fate of the Beating.” Rior glances around, but no one is here, and I cast a shell of magic around us when I first approached to keep anyone from listening in on our conversation.

“We already know there’s no cure.” I rest against the stone wall at the side of the ring. “As far as why it’s taking so godsdamned long to claim me… who knows.”

Rior crosses his arms over his chest, meeting me at the side of the ring. His teeth grit, and I know he wants to argue, but there’s nothing that can be said. At some point, the Beating will claim me whether I’m ready or not.

I sense Elorie knows that too. Every time she places her palm over my chest or presses her ear to my heart, she’s feeling—listening. Knowing that the intensity of my heartbeat isn’t right. She brought me back in that prison, but it didn’t fix what had already begun.

My stomach clenches, knowing the guilt that floods her eyes every time that thought crosses her mind. She blames herself when I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. She brought me back, and even if I’m not ready to leave my mate, I’m thankful for the gift of this time with her.

My Starfire.

“Maybe Aurora will get her wish after all.” Rior’s eyebrow lifts. “Since you let her continue to play the part instead of claiming your crown, she’ll be in line should the Beating finally catch up with you.”

“I’ll claim it.” I stand taller, pretending my head doesn’t float as I shift on my feet.

“Really? When?”

I drag my hair back. “Soon.”

“When Elorie is ready?”

My eyes spear him in warning. Not that Rior fears the static filling the training ring at the mention of her name.

He steps forward, smirking, knowing he’s right. “She’s the reason you haven’t claimed your crown yet, Wilder. We all know it. First, you were too busy looking for her. Now, you’re too busy worrying what she’ll think of your loyalties when you do.”

“Elorie knows where my loyalties lie.” I step forward, aether flickering in the air around us. “My loyalty is to her and Vaelier.”

“But hers isn’t,” he says plainly, not backing down even as my nerves are on end. “She fights for our enemies as well.”

“For her people,” I clarify. “She fights for both.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I know it.” My fingers clench. “I won’t ask her to choose.”

Rior drops his chin, and my magic pulls back in. When he meets my gaze again, it isn’t judgment I find in his eyes; it’s the sympathy of one of my oldest friends.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Wilder.”

“I know.” I let out a defeated breath, scratching the back of my neck.

Sweat coats my skin where I used to battle an entire army without so much as a drop being released. The Beating changed everything.

“This isn’t about Elorie,” I say, but I’m met with a skeptical look from Rior. “Fine, it’s not entirely about Elorie… I failed my people, Rior, when they needed me most; I let their queen die.”

“You lost one battle on the shore of Rohldova,” he says, treading carefully. “It’s not the first battle to be lost, and it won’t be the last. You can’t use that as a reason to continue refusing your crown when your people need you. How long are you going to punish yourself for the things outside of your control? How long are you going to deny the kingdom its king for fear of things you can’t predict?”

“It seems it doesn’t matter when things get worse by the day.”

“Unless your mate comes through.” Rior shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I might not agree with her loyalty to Lyrichia, but at least she fights for something. I say this with love from an old friend, but when will you?”

“Not being subtle about it, are you?”