9. Tairyn

nine

Tairyn

The door slams shut, and I collapse into the chair, barely avoiding tipping it over with my weight. My body trembles as I take sharp, ragged breaths and press my forehead into my sweaty palms. The fire crackles loudly, but its warmth does nothing to ease the knots of anxiety twisting in my chest. I close my eyes and try to let the flames consume my worries, but they only seem to grow stronger, engulfing me in a suffocating heat.

What did I just do? That was… uncharacteristic.

At first, it was the White Chroma that seemed to swirl and dance around us when we first met. And now, I can't seem to control my own actions. I knew if she touched me again…

A low groan escapes me as I roll my shoulders, trying to release the tension that has built up inside me. I can't believe I lost control of myself. I can't risk her touching me again, not if it means a vision will come unbidden. ***?

The only way to prevent a recurrence is if I abandon her in that dungeon until it's time to transfer her. It doesn't matter that I'm intrigued by her and have unanswered inquiries about humanity. Once this mess is resolved, I'll search for another human to question about the peculiar items in my collection. Someone less… alluring.

I have the Vessel, I remind myself. My task is nearly complete.

As I organize my thoughts, a new plan of action arises in my mind. My original intention was to unravel her complexities, but now I see the potential risks of delving too deeply with her. The weight of these realizations hangs thick in the air's stillness, almost dragging me down into an abyss.

Popping to my feet, I clasp my hands behind my back and pace the length of the handmade Moroccan Berber rug. The pattern always draws my eye to the slight imperfections only humans can tolerate in their handiwork. Fascinating, really, that such a luxury item would be imperfect. Proof that it was made by hands rather than machines, as if technology is not the amazing feat of their culture.

The more I learn about human culture and history, the more it impresses me, really. I can only assume the general hatred for humans among the realms is a combination of ignorance and propaganda. They don't have magic, but neither do most fae. And they've compensated for this by developing machines that mimic magic. Artificial Chroma. Amazing.

And what do the complacent fae do? They live happily in their archaic hovels beneath the thumb of the ruling High Fae. Human history suggests they eventually overtake their monarchies and oligarchies. Yet when the power structures have a void, another takes its place in a new form. I like that about humans. They seize power when they can and topple it if they can't.

My chin raises with a hint of pride that the Vessel is human. Of course she is. No other species would be worthy of being my-

A sudden rush of air fills my lungs, my breath hitching in my throat and almost choking me. My thoughts come to a jarring halt, stammering and faltering as I struggle to push back a horrible word from fully forming in my mind. The tension is palpable, every muscle in my body tensed. A shiver runs down my spine, as if warning me of the danger lurking just around the corner.

For a split second, a dot of color clouds my peripheral vision. A pulse of Chroma, demanding my attention. But when I flick my eyes to the spot, it disappears.

Curious.

Most times, a request for a vision is accompanied by deep indigo or bold purples. However, this one was more of a delicate pastel pink. My expression turns into a frown. I'm not sure what it signifies, but I'm not interested in experiencing that particular vision.

They're often misleading anyway, filling both my dreams and nightmares to the brim with possible futures. New worries and fears. The visions are nothing more than a curse, my plight.

A knock shatters the silence, a sudden intrusion that has me on high alert. "Enter," I call out, keeping my tone steady even as my pulse quickens. The door creaks open and Oren steps in, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

"The prisoner has been returned to her cell."

He bobs his head with respect as I take his report. Evidence of the beating I gave him earlier still shows swelling on the short man's face. I despise resorting to such barbaric methods, but when dealing with those who only understand physical force, it becomes the most effective course of action. Besides, he understood my orders to make her comfortable meant taking her to a sitting room somewhere, not the blasted dungeons.

"Good. No further incidents?"

"None, sir."

I nod my head to the door in dismissal, mouth twisted in distaste for the man and his lackey friend. But just as one intrusion ends, another demands my attention.

The fire, already crackling and roaring, suddenly sparks with a burst of vivid red Chroma, causing the flames to dance higher until they reach the stones at the top of the hearth. It's both an invitation and a demand. I briefly consider ignoring it, but she knows that at this late hour, I am always in my study. I am always at her disposal, like the puppet on strings she assumes I am.

The High Fae often communicate through fire and blood, which, if I'm honest, can be quite tiresome. It's all so very dramatic. At least she has the decency to wait for me to answer tonight instead of just popping in like usual.

I sigh heavily and move towards the enormous fireplace; the heat singes my face but not enough to hurt. With a wave of my hand, the flames part, revealing a large mirror-like surface at the back of the fire pit. A beautiful face with cruel eyes forms within it, her long white hair flowing behind her and blending with the flames.

"Malicryn." I greet her, allowing a thin smile to curl at my lips. Her eyes, sharp and icy white, flicker with amusement.

"Tairyn," she purrs, drawing out my name with a playful grin. "How is our little human guest?"

Inwardly, I bristle at her tone, the way she belittles an entire species with such casual hatred. The way she belittles a specific human. I can still smell her, the intoxicating scent of spiced wine lingering in the air despite her absence. Outwardly, I keep my expression neutral, suppressing the grimace at my realization.

"In my dungeons."

"Her eyes widen with alarm. "Near the other one? You imbecile. You cannot allow them to bond."

That other one has caused me no end to annoyance with his stubbornness. "Bonded or not, they are no threat. However, precautions have been taken. She's shielded, and they are separated. How long until you arrive?"

Her mouth twists with displeasure, but she drops it for now. "Days yet. Possibly weeks. Things here require my attention at the moment. Someone has been inundating my kingdom with contraband goods. Surely you can handle the little bitch for that amount of time. Or should I be worried that you're more incompetent that I originally assumed?"

She arches an eyebrow, implication clear in her tone. I clench my teeth to prevent a response. Not for the first time I internally rail against the power she has over me. I take a deep breath before responding. "Everything will remain under control."

She chuckles, eerily similar to the crackling of the flames around her, but there's nothing warm in her laughter. Her gaze flickers with an inscrutable emotion as she tilts her head slightly to the side, studying me. I remain impassive, not allowing her to read anything from my expression.

"See that it does," she warns, before the mirror-like surface suddenly fades back into the normal glow of the fire.

I turn away from the hearth, my fist clenching at my side. A headache forms now, thudding in the base of my skull in time with my racing heart. Every interaction with Malicryn leaves the traces of deep regret lingering over every inch of my broken soul. A moment of weakness and desperation turned into a lifetime of servitude.

To her. And to Yurghen.

My Chroma restored in exchange for assisting them with some plot I didn't fully understand before agreeing to. And now…

Now, I find myself a prisoner of my own design. It might be an ornate cage made of power and privilege, but a cage, nonetheless. I rub my temples, closing my eyes to ease the throbbing pain.

Every fiber of my being pulls me towards the Vessel, begging me to give in and fulfill something hidden and unacknowledged inside me. But I have to stay away, distract myself with something else. It seems a simple solution, but I know this ordeal will not be over so easily.