Page 69 of The Reaping Rose

“All Perame said was the Mortal Realm?” Callum asks again.

I nod. “Then she fainted.”

When Perame’s knees gave out under her, all three males swept forward, but it was Wilder’s magic that caught her before she hit the ground. I panicked watching Atlas carry his sister back to her room, but Wilder assured me it’s not unusual when she tunnels that deep into her magic.

Perame’s magic isn’t the same as a wielder’s. It’s finer, more delicate. It burns hot and quick, and when she snags what she’s searching for, she taps into the depths of her abilities. It’s stronger than anything we wield in battle.

Greer frowns. “The Arch to the Mortal Realm was one of the first to close. If the void is truly there, then we’re out of luck.”

I shove my shoulders back, refusing to accept that. “Then let’s hope Perame has answers.”

Callum and Greer share a look over my head, but I don’t bother meeting their stares. Doubt will do nothing but fray what little hope remains. Defeat isn’t an option.

After Perame’s visit in the middle of the night, I didn’t return to bed. I couldn’t sleep. Wilder left to check on Perame while I found Letia to tell her what happened. Her eyes lit with understanding only she could possibly share. This journey is leading us closer to our ancestors’ home realm. If we can find a way back, we can solve more than one of our problems.

The orb and the aeraliss.

Excitement rumbles through me as we walk into the meeting room, but I slow when I see another figure among the group. Standing between Atlas and Perame is a male who looks like a mix of them both. His dark-red hair hangs in a thick braid down his back. He has the same square jawline as Atlas, but a slightly darker tan complexion. His brown eyes have hints of copper. A contrast to the two purple gazes at his sides.

Wilder spots me immediately, breaking away from the conversation to meet me at the door while Callum and Greer continue to the table.

“I didn’t realize everyone was here already,” I say.

“Darvel arrived earlier than anticipated.” Wilder plants a hand on my lower back, leading me through the room to the male at the center of the commotion. “Elorie, this is Lord Darvel Gaile of Andare, Atlas and Perame’s father.”

My gaze whips to Wilder when I realize who he is. Wilder doesn’t share many loving stories about his mother, but he’s made it clear he was close to Darvel growing up. When his mother sent him to Andare to train, Darvel accepted him into his family. He became a father figure to him, while Atlas and Perame were like his siblings. It’s why, when Wilder was summoned back to the Quietus Court by his queen, Atlas and Perame joined, along with Rior, as the first members of Wilder’s court.

Looking at them now, warmth in their eyes and smiles on their faces, I have a deeper understanding of the role Darvel played in Wilder’s life. Especially considering the unknowns surrounding Wilder’s biological father.

“Elorie Vale.” Darvel grins as he steps forward, assessing me. “The celestial wielder who claimed the wild one’s heart.”

“The wild one?” I hitch an eyebrow as Wilder groans.

Darvel grins, not taking it back. “Wilder has never been known to do anything quietly. Or by the book. He likes to keep us all on our toes.”

“Not to mention his reputation for—” Perame cuts Atlas off with a jab of her elbow, and he stumbles back a step, laughing.

“Hmm…” I smirk up at Wilder, who glares at Atlas for his comment. “I don’t imagine I want to know the end of that sentence.”

Wilder’s golden gaze meets mine, but I turn back to Darvel before he bothers explaining himself to me.

My mate has lived for nearly six hundred years. He’s experienced more lifetimes than I can imagine before I was even born. It must have been incredibly lonely, even with friendships to fill his time. As I know now, nothing compares to the wholeness of meeting your mate. I’m under no illusion that Wilder didn’t have plenty of company over the years, but they weren’t me, and it’s unimportant now, so I don’t resent him for it.

I smile at Darvel, shifting closer to my mate. “Wilder has told me many good things about you.”

“He’s done many good things himself. For his kingdom and his family. He’ll make a great king once he claims his crown.” Darvel’s gaze moves to Wilder, his expression softening as it did when he glanced between Atlas and Perame.

But Wilder stiffens at Darvel’s comment. Tension stirs at the mention of his throne. Wilder hasn’t explicitly said he’s avoiding setting a date for his ceremony to claim his crown, but it’s clear he is.

“Shall we begin?” Wilder glances to the doorway when Aurora walks in.

Her gaze falls to Wilder’s hand on my back as she shoves her chin higher. She claims a seat as far from us as possible, only smiling when Darvel circles the table and kisses the back of her hand in greeting. They share a brief hello before he takes the seat between Atlas and Perame.

Perame’s cheeks are a touch paler than they were yesterday. Her eyes are hollow and drained from her search for the void. Darvel must notice because he squeezes her hand, worry pinching his eyebrows.

His love reminds me of my own father, always noticing something was wrong before I could put words to it. Looking after me even when he barely had the strength to look after himself.

Wilder’s hand slips to my thigh beneath the table. An anchor when grief tugs at me. I squeeze his hand in return.