Chapter Twenty-Six

Felix

As the door snicks shut, I turn heel and leave Ellesandra to the room that's served as my personal haven for the better part of four centuries.

She tried to hide her joy behind the impassive mask I loathe, but her eyes sparkled the moment we entered the room. The wonder upon her face and unconscious curve of her lips were well worth the gold and time spent on the room's creation.

The day of her birth each year saw a new, rare jewel brought from the mines. Each time the season changed, I added a book she loved from her childhood to the towering shelves. Fine silk and velvets were stitched to create gowns in the colors she favors most.

The MoonNight crown is the true gem of the room, though. Having belonged to the women of my family for over two thousand years, my grandmother was the last person to wear it after my mother claimed it was too heavy. Being the madman my father was, he took my mother's complaint as ungratefulness and chucked it into the Besite sea. It took me close to five decades to find it, even with the most experienced seamen searching day and night. Since the day it was expunged of debris and restored to its ethereal shine, it's sat in its case, waiting for her.

As I reach our chambers and step inside, my head comes to rest on the door with a thud. On the days when the weight of her absence grew too heavy, the room was the only thing that kept my despair at bay. Although time and distance stole her away from me in the physical sense, this wing of the palace was the place she remained.

Oftentimes, I'd simply walk into the room and allow thoughts of her to comfort me. Other times, I'd pluck a book from the shelf and read late into the night, even though I already knew each story from beginning to end.

After Lenora found me in the early hours of one winter's morning, I'd barred anyone from entering the Northern Wing. Ever relentless with her scolding gazes of disapproval, the middle-aged woman wore me down after one hundred and sixty-two years. I agreed to allow the servants to enter once a week for cleaning and general upkeep. For four centuries, a total of eleven people, including myself, have stepped into the room. Until this day.

The corners of my lips lift as I close my eyes. She acted as if it were nothing of importance, but I know she enjoyed each piece I'd chosen for her. At her core, she's akin to every other woman of the realm who loves jewelry and beautiful gowns. Ellesandra has always been a queen through and through, boasting an appetite for things that only royalty can provide her.

Despite being from the wealthiest kingdom in Norweth, the fool that sat at her side and called himself King of Minalis failed her, even from the early years of their marriage. With each lavish ball and grand feast, I watched him seek her approval from my shadows. My lips stretch into a full smile as a primal sense of satisfaction swells in my chest. It's enjoyable to know I sent the great Calor Brunet to the grave without her heart.

Although she's too stubborn to admit it, her heart has always belonged to me. Her relations with the lesser men of her court proves that. They were nothing more than a distraction from the dull ache that settled into her soul. As her mate, I'm the sole person on the continent, fae or human alike, that can make her happy.

While I make no apologies for my actions, I understand her reluctance to accept the peace I offer her. In her eyes, I'm the reason behind the grief that's enveloped her since that fateful night so many moons ago. Despite trying to reason with her through my letters over the centuries, she refuses to accept the truth. To do so would mean that her relentless pursuit of war was for nothing.

That's neither here nor there though. Now that she's within my grasp, it's only a matter of time before her true being rises to the surface. It's covered in the ashes of the kingdom she pretends not to care about, nestled into the deepest parts of her soul that cry out for adoration. The queen I love is messy and broken, but I cling to her rage as if I'm drowning at sea and in need of a savior.

Tonight, she'll begin to understand that no matter her attempts to push me away, I'll never let her slip through my fingers again.

"It appears a funeral pyre won't be needed after all," Ashe grumbles, falling into step beside me as I round the corner to the Great Hall.

Glancing at him out of the corner of my eye, I lift a brow. "Those drunken fools at The Crooked Moon wagered that blood would be drawn before the moon rose," he continues with a savage grin. His face falls as he looks down at his boots. "I wagered it'd be within the first hour."

I chuckle and Ashe's eyes widen. "A poor wager." I stop and turn to look over my shoulder when his steps falter. "What?"

"Stars be damned, it's been less than a full day and you're actually smiling." His tone is filled with wonder. "You're so fucked."

Turning, I clasp him on the arm, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Shut the fuck up, Ashe."

The echo approaching from down the hall draws my gaze over Ashe's shoulder. Thorin appears in the distance. As usual, his steps are quick and light, his hand resting on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his hip. My mirth fades as he closes the distance and slows his steps to stand beside Ashe.

Judging by the slight furrow of his brow, I know he's going to deliver me some sort of news I don't wish to hear. I freeze as my thoughts barrel to Ellesandra. Despite her false hatred of me, I'm certain she wouldn't be foolish enough to run. Not yet, at least. Not until her powers have returned, which I know they haven't. More nefarious possibilities rush through my mind when Thorin says nothing.

"What is it?" I bark, perhaps a little too harshly.

Though I know none of my men would dare to harm her—seeing that I've made the grave consequences of doing so clear—it's not them who worry me. Even without her powers, Ellesandra's morose temperament is dangerous enough on its own. She's likely to do things beyond the realm of sanity to spite me. The question isn't if, but what madness she attempts first.

Thorin blows out a long breath and runs a hand through his golden hair. "The traitor has been thrown in the cells as you've commanded. He wasn't too keen on the idea, so I was forced to render him unconscious."

Despite the relief that sweeps over me, I lift my chin in silent question. In all the times we've fought and bled together, I can recall on one hand the number of times he's been visibly frustrated. A soldier through and through, there's little that can sway him from his calm demeanor. Except for one.

"And where is Sianna?" His eyes flash as I press my lips together to shield my amusement.

"I'm not sure." That's a lie. "I'd imagine in her chamber or rekindling her friendship with Larkin."

My amusement vanishes with her name. Although I know he's simply trying to deflect the fact that it's my sister who has frustrated him, it's a blow that lands below my belt. I narrow my eyes on him. While I spent more than a few nights inside of Larkin, the extent of our relationship was mutual pleasure, nothing more.

Thorin brings her up to get under my skin. He's held a torch for Sianna since we were children. At one point before her departure from Risian, I believed the two shared some form of young love. While Thorin refuses to confirm or deny my suspicions, I know he still holds some sort of affection for my sister. The tension has been thick between the two since the moment my men arrived in Minalis.

"Anything else?"

"No."

"Very well," I murmur with a slight nod. Returning the motion in kind, they part as I brush past them, returning the way Ellesandra and I came. My stomach growls when the smell of freshly baked bread wafts to my nose as I stride past the kitchens, reminding me I've not eaten in quite some time. She must be hungry too.

With curiosity rising, I turn down a connecting corridor and open the door of an abandoned chamber. Calling upon my shadows, I give them my command. Stepping into a thin wisp of shadows, I'm shrouded in darkness, then standing before her.

She stares at the marble floor, the glittering white ceiling, the ladder that sits in front of the bookcases. Her brow furrows in deep contemplation, the awestruck expression on her features telling me she's unaware of my presence.

Seeing that I've never tested the limits of the mirror soul bond before, it's a curious revelation. While the tendrils of darkness answer to me, I hadn't taken into account how they'd react when she and I are near one another. I've spent many days watching her through my shadows at the Amber Palace, but it seems they act differently with physical proximity. Their reluctance to return to my chest after I ordered them to unlock the door is proof of that.

It makes sense—if the legends are true—that our magic would call to one another. The bond we share is the oldest known magic in all the continent. Considering the rarity of the mirror soul bond, it's no surprise that its capabilities are unknown.

Heat rushes through me and flows straight to my cock when she takes a hesitant step towards the crown that's always been meant to sit atop her brow. She raises her hand when she reaches the glass case and leans forward to examine it. I hold my breath when her fingers trace the edge of the glass in the lightest of touches. I'm unable to feel her reaction, but the curiosity that smatters across her features is telling enough.

With an emotion I've long forgotten roaring to life and a final perusal of her form, I step out of my shadows and command them to return to me. Shoving my hands in the pockets of my breeches, the feeling nestles into my rib cage and follows me as I return to the hall.

Hope.

Ellesandra,

Today's a special day. It was on this day seventy-nine thousand, two hundred and four days ago that we met. It was the best worst day of my life.

I fucking hate you.