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But Caius did not let her. Grabbing her chin between his thumb and index finger, Caius tilted her head until she had no other option than to look at him and see the evidence of his own father’s abuse. Because where there should have been pointed ears—the tangible proof of his elven heritage—there was nothing left but the serrated edge of where his father had severed the points. Bile churned in her stomach, burning her from the inside at the sight.

‘And he isn’t half as bad as yours.’

‘Stop it.’ Hands shaking, Areanel’s voice cracked on the plea. A metallic taste coated her mouth from how hard she had bitten down on her tongue. ‘My nursemaid—your aunt—raised you, not your worthless excuse of a father.’

‘Your father didn’t raise you, either! He trained you, Areanel.’ Caius hissed her title like it was poison on his tongue. The hate was palpable. Areanel felt the sting like a slap in the face, but she refused to back down. It wasn’t in her nature. So, she squared her shoulders and faced the venom head-on. ‘He abused you. Manipulated you. Threw you to the wolves! You call that love?’

‘Enough,’ her voice dropped. A quiet, deadly sort of calm overtook her tone. ‘What do you know of love?’ Her chest heaved with her shaking breath.

Something in his eyes guttered at her response, like a grating thread finally snapping. His stormy grey eyes, as colourless and pale as ice chips, looked away for a moment, as if he daren’t look at her. What right did he have to say such things?

‘He was right. You haven’t changed. You won’t,’ Caius muttered under his breath. Had she not been sitting so close, she would’ve missed it. Was he talking about her? Who would have said she couldn’t change? Her father?

A pang of failure speared through her heart at the thought.

Shaking his head, Areanel watched as strands of white hair fell out of place. Turning back to her, it was almost like a switch had been flicked. Areanel stared, perplexed. Something itched at the base of her skull, a worm wriggling in her mind as her watery gaze landed on his. It wasn’t the yearning or the nostalgia she had spied before, but resolution. A sort of resolve.

Ever so slowly, his hand reached out towards her, and Areanel could not help her subconscious reaction to flinch away. Her entire body recoiled, and a slippery, slick sensation slithered across her skin the moment his ice-cold fingers grazed her temple. A shiver skittered down her spine when he plucked a loose strand of her hair that dangled from her shoulder.

Twirling it around his pale, slender finger, Caius moved closer, crowding her vision as he angled his head closer to hers. Smoke and earth—the scent stuffed into her nose like something warm but unwelcome. Again, Areanel tried to move away, but as she did, his other hand came down to clamp her thigh, his fingers biting as they dug into her skin.

Suddenly, her vision blurred. Something was wrong. Black dots spotted in the corner of her eyes as he slowly encroached on her space.

Sharp ash and the scent of petrichor choked her senses. A low buzz hummed against her skin, sending small pin-like prickles chasing up her arms, travelling to the base of her skull.

What was happening to her?

Thoughts turned velvety and slick, like oil had been poured between the cracks of her mind until she could no longer remember why she was still awake.

Hadn’t she been in bed with Rymedur?

Rubbing at her eyes, Areanel found that the dark, hazy spots had disappeared—but when her eyes landed on veridian, there was an urgent tug at her wrist.

That couldn’t be right. Rymedur sat in front of her, his large hand pressed on her bare thigh, and his lips were slightly parted. He had been in bed… Right?

Then how did he—Areanel’s brows pinched. Reaching for the collar of his shirt, her fingers grazed his bare neck, and she fisted the white fabric.

It was odd. Rymedur rarely wore white, for as long as she had known him, he’d preferred darker colours. Her mind was dazed. Slow. When had she gotten so tired? Perhaps sleep was finally coming to claim her.

Sluggish, her body felt foreign. Her actions were not her own, and it was as though she was watching, trapped inside her own mind. Biting cold, sharp and urgent, tugged at her wrist and tightened, wanting her attention—but Areanel could not look away from those viridian eyes.

Something wasn’t right. Rymedur didn’t seem like himself. The sensation sliced through the ever-growing fog that smelled like a mixture of rainfall and burning wood, and Areanel noticed that the smile on Rymedur’s face was too wolfish—and where was his dimple? Not right. Something in her soul screamed at her to pull away. She did not want this.

But why? This was Rymedur.

Heart hammering, Areanel tried to move away, but the fingers twirling her hair reached to move it behind her pointed ear, grazing the side of her temple. Areanel suddenly forgot why she had wanted to put any distance between them. The hand on her thigh inched up beneath the hem of the dark shirt, and calluses scraped along her skin. His hand seemed oddly cold, his grip too firm, like he was trying to keep her from running.

Again, something squeezed at her wrist, threaded around her fingers—silky and soft, yet urgent and desperate all at once. Then, the familiar weight disappeared entirely. What had it been?

Areanel wanted, more than anything, to see what it had been—but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from those jade eyes. Leaning further into her space, Rymedur’s hand cupped her face. The chipped wood of the window frame dug into her spine; her shoulders locked instinctively. And when his breath—sweet like vanilla, yet woody like oak and something burning—brushed against her cheek, Areanel let her already drooping eyes close.

Chapter 43

Rymedur

Rymedur was dreaming. A young boy with a wide grin and bright forest eyes, identical to his own, ran down the sandy shore, kicking up the glittering white sand on his way. Brilliant warm laughter, like the sun beaming through the canopy on a summer’s day, echoed all around him. His heart clenched at the giddy sound.

So, when something cold and silky licked at his neck, tickling his skin as it climbed up to nudge at his chin and poke at his cheek, Rymedur grumbled something unintelligible.