Page 189 of Cursed Evermore
“I cannot tell them apart yet, Your Grace, but I feel it. Even now, her magic grows. My Lady carries the mark of an ancient bloodline we must honor.” Hedion tilted his head, and Pyrion mirrored the gesture. “The same vein of power as yours and the Nightblades who have gone before you.”
My heart stopped beating for a few seconds then slammed back to life with violent force. “Power like mine? And my ancestors?”
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s what makes her yours. A soul of equal power we must honor.”
Those words hit harder than anything else. She was truly mine. Not just in my head but written into the very fabric of her power.
I drew in a breath, slow and uneven. “Gods be good.”
“Your Grace, the realm has awakened what was sleeping. Now her powers are taking form. Shaping.”
Shaping.I was right to be cautious. And this was just the beginning.
She’d made vast progress in a matter of days.
The question now wasn't what Elariya was; it was what she was becoming.
I'd thought I was chasing a ring, but apparently, I had something even more valuable.
And she had been right beside me this entire time.
Chapter 37
Wolfe
“The Bonded and the Broken”
The next two days passed in a blur, a vague cluster of events that melted together in my mind, no different from drifting through the Void.
There was enough to keep me occupied, but my mind never left Elariya. I kept seeing her face and those eyes staring back at me with hurt and disappointment. And I kept feeling like the bastard I was.
Standing by my word, I hadn't seen her since our fight. I'd purposely stayed away, deciding we both needed time apart to cool down and process. I especially needed it to get myself back on track and rebalance my mind. I never achieved the latter, but after hours of research with my Bloodsworn and Arielle's studious visits to the citadel, we'd come up with a few ideas for a new spell.
It was still a work in progress with theories scattered here and there that required deeper thinking and testing, but at least the ideas were there. So was hope.
All being well, I could start testing out a few of those ideas next week. Maybe I'd know more about my mage by then, too.
I'd kept my silence about Elariya's ancient magic. Thankfully, she hadn't said anything to anyone either. I'd always been open with my Veythral, but on this occasion I felt it was best to keep the secret under wraps until I knew more about her powers. Hopefully that would be soon.
I’d figured that the only way I could know more is by continuing her training with Arielle.
Right now, I needed to sleep. Or rest at the very least. It was well past the witching hour, and even with my ability to go days without sleep, I was tapped out.
I'd spent all day with Bastian and Alaric investigating the rebels. We'd gone over intel from my spies showing a decrease in activity in the regions where the rebels had been active only a handful of weeks ago. It would almost appear that they'd gotten scared and backed down, but the warning in my heart told me otherwise. I felt something different was happening, and they probably had more help, perhaps others who had joined forces with them to side against me.
I'd been in enough wars to smell an oncoming threat clinging to the edges of the wind. It had been a hundred years since I'd fought in the battle with the Isles of the Northern Seas, but the ability to smell conflict had never left me. Galaythia had not seen civil war in my lifetime, nor my father's. I would hate for it to happen on my watch.
Potential war on the rise was enough to deal with, but Dreynthor's name day celebration was now four days away, and I had to attend, whether I wanted to or not.
Thankfully, my uncle had left me alone since the council meeting, but I'd seen him briefly a few times. At the celebration, I was sure he'd want to speak to me because of the princess and throw his threats at me.
I phased into the silent hallway at Vyrenth Hollow and took in the stillness of the manor. Everyone should be asleep. Including her—my mage.
It was hard to believe that we only had fifteen days until her next memory reset. Then she'd forget me. It was a bittersweet, cruel thought that she'd forget what I'd said, as if it didn't happen. But she'd also forget the context of our argument, which was overflowing with all the things we'd never said to each other.
I passed the hall that would take me to her room and stopped before turning the corner.
I wanted to check on her like I used to before the argument, but that wouldn't help either of us. Seeing her now would only weaken my resolve. I needed to harden my heart.
