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She took my magic, and felt at home in the comfort of the darkness I’d given her.
And then she was taken.
The brutality she suffered at the hands of men was nothing I could ever forget.
The horrors she suffered would plague my nightmares for the rest of my fucking life.
Akari and Diora had kept her sane—kept her alive.
I owed them everything.
As the years passed,Vena’s darkness weakened. The power I’d given her wasn’t the anchor her soul needed—it wasn’t the magic she was born to possess, and her body recognized that.
When she finally escaped that hell, I watched her promise her sisters that she would kill me—and then walk slowly to an inn nearby as they began their own journeys in different directions.
The conversation she had with its owner would live permanently in my mind as well.
“I need a comfortable place to die,” she had admitted to him, her body wrapped in the sweater I’d seen her purchase earlier that day. “I can work. I’dloveto work.”
And I owed that fae more than I had ever possessed for giving her the job.
It made her happy. Even as she watched her body begin to fade away, even as she was turned away by everyone she asked about a trip to the elemental fae lands, she loved working in that inn.
When I finally slipped out of her mind, my consciousness leaving the cave and sliding back into my reality, my eyes closed and my chest fucking ached.
My female was dying.
The only way to save her?
A trip to the elemental fae lands, a place I couldn’t travel to with the throne’s magic coursing through my veins.
To save her life—and my own, by extension—I was going to have to give one of my brothers the magic I had fought so hard to control for so long.
Chapter7
Vena
I wokeup feeling stronger than I had in months. Maybe even years. There was still a hollowness in my chest that nothing but elemental magic could fill, but my body wasn’t nearly as shaky as it had been before.
When I finally opened my eyes and lifted my head from the pillow, I found a naked Laith sitting sprawled over a large, decorative chair. It was positioned close enough to the bed that one of his feet was nestled beneath the blankets and settled against my calf. The other had been draped over the chair’s arm rest. In his hand, there was a glass of pearlescent liquid that I recognized as one of the more popular types of alcohol we’d had at my inn.
On his throat, there was an elegant-looking marking that circled his neck, about as thick as two of my fingers stuck together.
We studied each other for a few moments, both of us silent. I could feel the blankets covering my body, and knew he wasn’t checking me out; just staring at me.
There were strange, intense emotions flickering in my mind that didn’t belong to me.
Anger.
Lust.
Frustration.
Devotion.
Sadness.
Loss.
