Page 76 of The Bound Mage
The kind of person that would make a good queen.
But just the thought of being replaced stirred the bond from its content rest, molten power prickling beneath her skin. And she couldn’t affordthat—not today.
Araya stood, folding the blanket and laying over the back of her chair before slipping from the library on silent feet. Despite the early hour, voices already drifted up from the floors below—soft conversation, the clatter of dishes, the scent of something warm and spiced. Ithralis was more alive than she had ever seen it, crowded with those Eloria had deemed indispensable to the retrieval effort.
Even the High Luminary had come—trailed by an entourage of white-robed devotees that mingled with a small army of soldiers and Healers, filling bedrooms and the common areas of Ithralis with talk and laughter.
But even in a place this full, it was possible to feel alone.
Araya made her way outside without speaking to anyone. The early spring air bit at her cheeks as she crossed the courtyard, mist curling low across the stones. She pulled her cloak tighter, ducking into the garden she’d worked so hard on with Thorne.
The secluded alcove where he’d waited for her still stood undisturbed, the quiet of wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. She paused beneath the arch of dead vines, tilting her head to study their twisted length. They would have been beautiful in full bloom—lavender curtains spilling down, their sweet scent perfuming the air and their lush leaves casting dappled shadows in the sun.
Maybe Eilwen could regrow them, once Eloria lifted the shadows. The garden would bloom again, even if she wasn’t here to see it.
Araya settled onto the damp bench, drawing her cloak tight around her shoulders. She hadn’t come to grieve what had been or mourn what she would never have.
She’d come to practice.
Araya held out her hands in front of her, turning her mind inward to brush across the current of power that flowed through her. Back in the New Dominion, she never would have dared waste valuable magic—conservation was the first thing the human minders at Kaldrath had drilled into them when they arrived, weeping and terrified. It wasn’t their power to use. It belonged to the Arcanum, just like their names.
But that was the human way.
She drew a steadying breath, opening herself to her power. It rose to her invitation, a faint shimmer warming her palms. For a heartbeat, it held—the thin, translucent beginnings of a shield.
But then it faltered, shivering between her hands before it broke apart and dissolved into the mist.
Araya hissed through her teeth, dragging the remnants of her power back under control. They all said she could do this—that it would come as naturally as breathing. She’d done better sparring with Loren. She’d saved Thorne’s life with her magic. Loren even claimed he’d seen her use her power instinctively before, back in the New Dominion.
So why couldn’t she reach it now?
Araya closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe. This was just nerves. Today was important. If they succeeded in retrieving the king’s remains from the heart of the Veil, she’d be that much closer to going home. Gods, she could be on a boat this time next week. Back to the New Dominion, and Jaxon, and the life she’d built for herself.
The thought didn’t fill her with the relief it should have.
“This is an interesting place to find the mate of our crown prince,” a smooth voice cut through the silence.
Araya’s eyes flew open, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end at the sight of the silver-haired female just a few paces away. Even without her ceremonial mantle, there was no mistaking the High Luminary’s glacier-pale eyes and haughty bearing.
Araya stood, wrapping her cloak around herself like a shield. “Does Loren know you’re out here?”
“Be easy, Lady Starwind.” The High Luminary’s lips curved in a small smile. “I seek only a moment of your time. Even without His Majesty’s recent… demonstration of what his shadows will do when you are threatened, I would never be fool enough to detain the mate of our crown prince against her will. Iam merely curious what drives you to seek solace in a garden of shadows and death, when most would turn to the Goddess and her temples in times of turmoil.”
“I grew up with the Gods,” Araya said warily.
The High Luminary hummed softly. “Of course. The humans brought many gods with them when they sought sanctuary in our lands, searching for a place where they wouldn’t be prosecuted for practicing magic. And we welcomed them—called them kin and mixed our blood with theirs. After all, we all carry the Goddess’ blessing, no matter how much aether we can summon to our will.”
Araya shivered, tugging her cloak tighter around her shoulders like a shield.
“But humans are never content with the gifts they’re given.” The Priestess sighed, her gaze distant. “They sought more. And when the Goddess did not offer it freely, they turned to fae blood and fae bone, committing atrocities to take what they could never earn. Your prince’s father was the king to finally heed our warnings. He forbade the practice of using amplifiers, decreeing that what we were given must be enough. But by then the damage was done.”
Araya’s throat tightened. This wasn’t the story she’d learned from the human minders who raised her, but she knew how it ended. She had lived it.
“Humans are short-lived,” the High Luminary continued. “But they breed like rats. A few become dozens. Dozens become hundreds, then thousands.” Her gaze swung back to Araya, rooting her where she stood. “The clever and cunning among them quietly hoarded fae relics, crafting them into powerful weapons. With their numbers and the element of surprise…it was a slaughter.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Araya whispered.
“Because, Lady Starwind, you aren’t the first to believe you can rewrite what the Goddess has designed,” the High Luminary smiled sadly. “Nor, I imagine, will you be the last. But every fall begins with the belief that we know better than the divine.”
