Page 160 of The Reaping Rose

“I can’t believe Wilder took the ring off. What if you hadn’t been able to stand the magic of Vaelier?”

Wilder waited until this morning to break that news to me. And I made sure to tell him my thoughts on him risking my friend’s life.

“You didn’t see me before, Elorie. Something was wrong. I was in so much pain. Even if it had killed me to take the ring off, there was no other choice. Either he was going to remove it, or I was going to do it myself.”

She frowns, her gaze falling to the strange marks on her arm. I know she’s right. I just hate that I wasn’t here for her when she needed me. Especially when I was the one who pushed the rings on the villagers in the first place.

“No one could have anticipated this,” Letia says, likely reading the guilt in my downturned lips. “And everyone else is fine—surviving—because of the rings on their fingers. There was no way to know I would have this kind of reaction.”

“Letia’s right,” Greer says, folding her arms over her chest. “Callum double-checked the journals. While they say that the aeraliss can have limits to its effectiveness, there’s no mention of anything like this.”

I pick up the two pieces of Letia’s ring, perfectly cracked down the middle. “I wonder what could have caused it. Something in your blood, maybe? But you’re not Fae.”

Letia shakes her head. “Wilder confirmed I’m human. My blood is mortal.”

“Even if she was Fae, it shouldn’t have done what it did.” Greer plucks half of the ring from my hand, gripping it in her fist. “It’s not like obsidian to us. It stings a little, resisting my magic, but it isn’t unbearable.”

I clutch the other half of the ring, feeling the same push Greer described. She’s right; it’s uncomfortable, but not painful. Nothing like Letia described.

“There’s more.” Letia pulls her knees to her chest. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned to Wilder or anyone else because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Letia.” Her name is a curse. “Anything could be helpful.”

“Maybe not this. I still don’t understand it.”

I set the ring down, facing Letia on the bed while Greer stands propped against the windowsill.

“I promise I won’t judge you. What else is there?”

Letia sighs, her gaze darting between us. She crosses her legs, wringing her fingers together in her lap. She practically glows with her gold veins and unbound blonde hair shimmering brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

Wilder said she hasn’t left this room since everything happened. She’s worried the humans will think it might spread if they see how the aeraliss affected her.

“I’ve been tired lately.” Letia doesn’t look up; her gaze remains fixed on the spot her ring used to sit. “It’s nearly impossible to stay awake longer than a few hours. It’s like the aeraliss changed more than these veins. It’s like it altered something inside me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s this knot in my chest.” She presses her hand to her heart. “Like there’s something else in there that’s fighting against me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You should have told Wilder.”

Letia shakes her head. “That’s not all. When I’m sleeping, I’ve been having these vivid dreams. Almost like I’m not dreaming, but I’m somewhere else. My body here is asleep, but I’m somehow awake in another place. A place that feels more real than this one. And he’s there.”

“He?” My eyes widen. “The Fae from Alyssium?”

“What Fae?” Greer’s eyebrows pinch.

“Remember the story I told you about when I almost drowned?” Letia asks, and Greer nods, her eyes widening in realization. “I see the Fae who saved me, and it’s like he’s right there again, like he was when he pulled me out of the water. Except he’s in my mind and far away.”

My stomach turns as I consider that. As I recall how Malachi reached out to me in the prison. A vision that was as real as it was not. But Malachi is only able to do that because he wields gods-touched powers. It’s not possible for another Fae to be that strong.

“I know how it sounds.” Letia sighs. “I don’t even know who he is. But I’m positive it was him. And I know you think I imagined him when I woke on the beach, but I didn’t. He’s real; I can feel him. I can see him. Short white hair. Eyes so sharp, his stare is deadly. And the runes…”

Her fingers lift to her throat, grazing around her neck.

“It’s like he was hung by them. They wrap his throat like a rope.” She shakes her head.

“Are there any hints as to where he might be? Has he said anything?”