His hand clamped around my wrist, unyielding. “Not this time, little dove,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel dragged over coals.
He shoved me back, hard, until the edge of the bed caught behind my knees. I buckled, landing with a thud.
One leg pressed between mine, the other braced to pin my arm. His face loomed close, shadow cutting sharp across his jaw.
“That should’ve worked,” I hissed.
“You will yield,” he growled, teeth bared.
Darkness.
It was daytime. Somehow, impossibly—daylight.
Mist hung over the garden trees, vines cascading from ivory arches. And in the center of the courtyard, a woman knelt, sitting on her knees in a gown the color of onyx sprinkled with stars.
Hair like smoke. A cloak of shadow. Her fingers caressed the face of a man who knelt before her—his frame rigid, proud, tears streaking down his violet skin.
“You must not follow me, Gabriel,” the woman whispered. She touched her forehead to his. “You must stay in Nyxarra and protect our land. I will find my way back to you.”
“I cannot, my moon,” he choked. “It is my duty to keep you safe.”
“No, my stars. It is your duty to keep the realm safe. There will comea time when the land will house two kings. And when silence no longer sleeps, you will know her.”
He tried to hold her tighter. She let him. And then she vanished into the mist.
I opened my eyes to see Malachi hovering over me, breathing heavy, hands still pinning my arms in place.
The shadows around us trembled, then slowly began to recede. One lingered, tracing my scar across my mouth down to the base of my neck.
The world hadn’t quite righted itself. My body still buzzed. My skin ached where he touched me, but not from pain. I stared up at him, at the sharp tension carved into his jaw, at the way his golden eyes searched mine like they were trying to unearth a secret. This close, I could see that his irises weren’t just gold—they were faceted, layered, the outer rim burnished darker than the center.
His grip loosened, but he didn’t move.
Something in me pulsed. Confused. Caught somewhere between the aftermath of a vision and the heat of his fury. Was this about Gabriel? Or something else? Something older. Something he was trying not to name.
The echo of the vision still clung to me, raw and disorienting. My skin crawled at the thought of him inside my head, showing me things I hadn’t asked to see. I didn’t know whether to recoil in fury or demand to know how he’d done it.
“Am I supposed to know what any of that meant?” I breathed, my voice sharper than I intended. “Because if you’d just asked—nicely—I might’ve let you explain. No hands required.”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just stared, like he was weighing whether I was worth the truth.
“You’re right,” he said finally, voice low, teethclenched. “I apologize.”
Then he pulled back, quickly rising to his feet.
“That was a memory,” he said.
I stood, breath still shallow.
“Gabriel was her personal guard,” he continued. “And her lover. The woman you saw—that was Eryndis.”
He began pacing.
“Shadow Elves aren’t just loyal, Aurelia. Their bond is older than vow or spell. Once they sense something worthy—something that calls to their purpose—they begin to align with it. And once invited, once accepted… They dedicate themselves completely. It’s not a choice. It’s a calling.”
He stopped pacing, eyes flicking to mine.
“When you spoke to him, he didn’t hear possibility. He heard promise. Because he sensed something in you. And you…you invited him into it. And now, he will not stop. Not until one of you dies.”