46. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The steel cracks now, but that is not the first sign that the Thrones are failing. No, I saw the first sign the day my son was born. Rhion will never be strong enough to hold the Crown. The Thrones are failing, and I cannot merely wait any longer.

~King Gethin, personal journals

Rhion stands on the edge of the space we've been dancing with a grin. When the song ends, he approaches us, and Cole whispers, "You need to say yes."

I give the faintest nod possible. We'd talked about this. This ball isn't for Cole and me to dance. It's for me to dance with any of the important nobles of both Houses if they're interested. We're only staying long enough that no one misses us.

Rhion is certainly important enough.

Like Cole, he stands out from the rest of his House. His blonde hair and incredibly large body aren't surprising, but the lack of any metal on his body is. Where every other High Fae from the House of Steel is wearing some kind of armor disguised as steel clothing, Rhion is wearing almost the same outfit that Cole is. His silver silk shirt and a gorgeous black set of tails seem impossibly tailored to his body. A silver cravat is tied around his neck.

He approaches us, that same wide grin on his face that he'd had the first time I met him outside of Draenyth. When Cole had threatened him. The same grin he'd had when he'd left us in the ballroom two days ago after I paralyzed him.

"Lady Maeve," he says, "may I have the next dance?"

The thought of touching him disgusts me. The thought of dancing with him is even worse. Like Cole said, what I want doesn't matter, though. This is one of the last trials before I'm done with Draenyth. Done with Immortals and the constant danger. Done with…

"That sounds wonderful, Prince Rhion," I say with as much formality as I can muster. The music plays again, and when Rhion offers his hand, I take it, allowing him to guide me into a much more formal version of the dance that Cole and I just finished.

"You know," he says as I match his steps, "they say that dancing is a way to prove your bedroom prowess without ever taking off your clothes." The smile on his face doesn't fade as my body tenses. I do not want to have a conversation about bedroom prowess with Rhion. "Except that the only thing I've found that dancing proves is that you can talk and move at the same time. No one cares if you're a good dancer, but they do care if you have good secrets to share."

I blink. That's not what I'd expected from Rhion. He doesn't seem to pay very much attention to me, though, as he keeps talking while we slowly make lazy circles around the corner of the dance floor that Cole was kind enough to clear. "And I think you have a great number of secrets to tell. People talk about Cole trying to get under his father's skin by betrothing you, but I think Cole has far more important things on his mind than some childhood rebellion against King Casimir. I think you have something special, and I'm not sure what it is."

His blonde hair flows as though a magical wind is blowing around his body. His entire outfit seems to move differently than most people's. That's when I realize that there's no separation between his outfit and his body. It's a part of him .

I try to ignore my realization. To just keep conversation with him. "Well, Prince Rhion, please illuminate me on my importance. I'd love to know."

I'm not sure if he means to remind me of a predator when he gives me a toothy grin, but he certainly does. "I'm sure you know exactly what I'm talking about because the Shade would never give a simple Wyrdling notice right now. And certainly not three separate times. That, combined with the fact that the Prince of Flames has betrothed you, makes me think that there is far more to you than anyone knows."

I blink and glance down at my wrist where the three little tally marks lay. I'd thought that no one had noticed. Rhion had, but that doesn't mean that I can let on that I'm anything more than I've pretended to be. I'm nothing more than a simple, powerless Wyrdling.

"Tell me, Prince Rhion, if we're talking about debts, why would someone of your status ever need to call on a favor from the Shade?"

He smiles at me. "For the same reason that your betrothed did. We both did a terrible thing, and there are some things that money and power can't buy forgiveness for. Now, why would the Shade have any interest in a Wyrdling like yourself? I'm thinking it has something to do with that little ring you wear."

"Doubtful," I say. "Since the reason that I called for the Shade was because I accidentally hurt my cousin. Just like so many other Wyrdlings, from what I've been told, I hurt a family member and there was no healer that could fix what I did."

The music comes to a crescendo, and Rhion spins me before bringing me back to him. When I catch another look at him, his eyebrow is arched. "That's interesting. A healer could fix a burn or a cut from the Houses of Steel or Flame. Maybe it's a Lesser House like Light or Water, but those rarely manifest with injuries. What kind of injury could you have caused to your cousin, Lady Maeve? The House of Earth is gone completely. That leaves the House of Shadows, but the House of Shadows doesn't leave injuries."

He cocks his head, that surprisingly thoughtful expression on his face. "I doubt that you're from a Lesser House. There's no way that the Prince of Flames would tie himself to someone from the House of Life or anything ridiculous. It's a good question, don't you think?"

The dance ends, and I stare at Rhion silently as I step back. The House of Shadows doesn't leave injuries. What else could it be?

"Maeve," Cole says loudly, pulling us apart, but I don't stop staring at Rhion. I've never heard Cole or the Shade say anything about shadows being able to poison someone like that. So what is it?

"Thank you for the dance, Lady Maeve," Rhion says with a grin at me, and then at Cole.

"What did he say?" Cole whispers.

I say nothing for a long while. "He knows I'm more than just a Wyrdling. He knows I'm wearing the Forgotten Ring. He knows I owe three debts to the Shade. He knows that I'm not from Flame or Steel, and Cole," I move closer to the man I'm betrothed to. "Cole, what House can poison people?"

Cole's eyes widen as he takes my hand. "I don't know, Maeve. The House of Green, possibly? They draw their powers from the living things around them, but if you weren't holding a poisonous plant, that wouldn't work. Most of the Houses keep their powers hidden from the outside world, and there are some examples of powers that only a handful of people can manifest. Rhion's ability to create clothing or my ability to create cold flames. But that would mean…"

"That I have a second House," I finish.

It's a shock to realize. A true revelation. And it doesn't matter at all. "Come on," I say. "Leave it for now. We need to dance, or we need to leave, correct?"

Cole nods to me. "Yes. Dance or leave. We need to stay for at least a little longer. Just another hour or so before we can escape."

I take a deep breath. "Then let's get it out of the way. I'm ready to be done with this place."

Cole gives me a smile, but something inside me tells me it's as fake as any he's given tonight. I want to correct myself. I want to tell him I don't want to be done with him, but the truth is that when I leave, he's going to stay. When I walk away from Draenyth, he'll be standing and fighting. Maybe not today. Maybe not this month, but it'll be sooner rather than later.

I remember that vision I've had every night that I've entered his mental landscape. That obsidian tower in that tormented place of razor-sharp surfaces and blazing hot winds. The tower that rose high into the air and stood against the pain that filled that place. It's the thing that has helped him survive the life he was born into.

He won't crumble. His desires won't war against his obligations. He's had hundreds of years of teaching and experiences force that rule on him. He's a tool, and while he's a tool for what he believes will help the world, he's still a tool. His desires don't matter.

I stop him as he tries to walk away. Today is the last day we have together. My hand goes to his chest, passing through the flames that run along his jacket, and my nails dig into the fabric. "Cole, I don't want you to think about tomorrow or the day after. Not for the rest of the day or night. I want you to treat today like it's your absolute last day alive. I want you to spend every moment exactly how you want to spend it. Tomorrow, you can go back to being the Prince of Flames, but today, just be Cole. Just… stop trying to do the right thing."

He looks down at me, and those eyes of his blaze orange. Bright and terrifying and so hot. Then he bends down and presses his lips to mine. Just like that night by the river, every bit of him washes over me. The emotional pain that weighs him down. The darkness of his past. The fear of the future. The joy of this moment together. It all runs together in a river of orange and red emotions.

We're standing in the middle of a ballroom in the Keep of Flames. Hundreds of nobles are around us, the strongest and most important people in the entire world. People that should terrify me.

I don't care one bit about them. Not right now, while Cole's lips press against mine. His hands grip my arms so tight that I'm sure that he's leaving bruises. I forget about everything in the world, just as I'd asked him to do. There is no tomorrow. No responsibilities. No Hazel or Calyr or King Casimir. Just us tonight. Just me and the man that I've continued to fall for.

Flames erupt around us. Not orange or red. Bright white. So hot that I worry about our clothes burning up, but I shouldn't worry about that at all. Not when Cole's the reason for the heat, because I know I can trust him with my life.

Every noble in Draenyth is watching the inferno that's swirling around us, and I'm almost certain that at least one person screamed when those flames erupted. Those people don't matter as Cole's lips move to my neck. There's no confusion about how Cole feels, and I certainly am not trying to stop him.

The drumbeat that I've tried to smother for weeks roars to life as his lips explore the skin above my collar. My panting breath is a payment to him, and the inferno grows ever hotter. My fingers dig into the fabric of his coat, and I wish I could rip those clothes off him. To shred them.

Tendrils of shadows roll off my fingertips, but they're burned away almost instantly. There's no way that I can hold the shadows back. Not even with my mother's ring. His lips trace the curve of my neck, and his teeth lightly brush against my skin. I know that I'm helpless against him.

"If I want to do anything," he whispers, "it's to leave this place and show you how badly I've wanted you."

"Then do it. Show me what it would be like to truly be betrothed to the Prince of Flames."

There's a moment of hesitation, and then he lifts me into the air. The flames around us die down, and there's no way that anyone has missed us leaving the ball, much less what we're headed off to do.

Maybe that's the best way to keep people from asking questions after all.