Page 52 of The Reaping Rose

I forgave him long ago, standing at the edge of the sea, mist in my face. I knew why he did what he did. That’s not what scares me.

Love is.

Love complicates survival. It sways action and opinion. Now that I have a mate, how will our bind affect my free will? How will it alter my decisions?

The people of Lyrichia need someone to fight for them when their king won’t. And since I wield the power of the heart of the realm, that falls to me. But my loyalty to my home is muddled with my bind to Wilder, and that is terrifying.

What if all I am now is an extension of him?

What if I allow this vulnerability and it becomes my downfall?

“I’m scared,” I admit to my best friend.

Letia pauses her hands in the water, looking over at me. “Of what?”

“Love.” It’s utterly ridiculous.

I almost laugh at myself as the word comes out, but Letia’s solemn expression stops me.

“You’re a survivor, Elorie. That’s who you’ve always been. Someone who focuses on what is needed: food, water, shelter. You’ll fight tooth and nail to protect. To provide. Why do you think that is?”

“Because that’s the only option we’ve ever had?”

She shakes her head. “Because you care. You fear love, but it’s what drives you. It spills out of you with every action. Every word. I know you’re scared love will make you soft. But love is not gentle, and it is not weakness. Love is purpose. It is intent. It is hard and painful, and it is why we’re both still here fighting. Because without it, what’s the point?”

I swallow hard, reaching for Letia’s hand as tears pool in the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t talk of those we’ve lost, but we both hear them in the silence. We remember them when the bustle of the day quiets and we’re left with our thoughts.

“You’re worried because there’s no more distance between you and Wilder for you to avoid these feelings. We all make mistakes. I sense his were for the right reasons. Let him love you. You deserve it.” Letia squeezes my hand. “And let yourself love him. You’d be surprised how strong that can make you.”

“Thank you, Letia.”

She nods, returning to washing the clothes.

A giggle on my right pulls my attention, and I glance at the head of red curls through the doorway. Perame leans against the wall, smiling at Seren, who has stopped with a basket of laundry in her hands to talk to her.

“She’s been checking in on us,” Letia says, following my gaze to Perame. “Although, I’m beginning to think that’s an excuse to say hello to a certain someone.”

Seren’s cheeks heat at whatever Perame says. They’re lost in a bubble of conversation, ignoring those walking past. Seren’s long brown ponytail swishes with the excitement in her story, and Perame doesn’t take her eyes off her. They’re mid-laugh when a Fae male I don’t recognize walks past, and Perame’s smile falls. Almost simultaneously, Perame and Seren turn their backs on each other and walk in opposite directions.

“Clearly you’re not the only one struggling with love and all its complications…” Letia shakes her head, returning to the laundry.

We wash the rest of the clothes in silence. As I’m hanging the final dress on a line to dry, I glance to where Letia is scratching the back of her hand. Her nails dig under the aeraliss ring, pushing it aside to reveal her reddened skin.

My eyebrows pinch. “Is something wrong?”

She stops rubbing. “No. It’s nothing. The ring itches a little. That’s all.”

“Have you told Callum? Is it the metal? Or the ring? There could be a crack or⁠—”

Letia grabs my hands, stopping my panic. “You know I’ve never cared for jewelry. Nothing is wrong with the ring. I promise.”

But as she turns away, she scratches her hand again, and I can’t shake the feeling that there’s one more thing I might be missing.

Chapter 18

Wilder

My palm flattens on the cool marble grieving pillar. The sides are carved with the intricacy of lightning. Weaving through the stone like light cracks against an inky-black sky.