“Go back to your fucking castle, King Namir. Whatever we were is over. I don’t give people second chances; not even my damned fated mate.” My magic was gathering in my abdomen again, but this time, it wasn’t with fear—it was with fury.
Hatred.
Sadness.
And when it burst, there wouldn’t be a wolf.
There would just be me, and the shadows that seemed to have consumed my soul.
His eyes burned into me, the shadows in them nearly black. “I won’t leave you.”
“Yes, you will.” The magic that had gathered within me exploded, and for once in my life, I welcomed it.
The shadows erupted from my abdomen, from my skin, from my veins. The air was thick, and sharp, and furious, the magic gathered around me in a thick sphere of swirling, hissing power.
They would keep Namir out—keep him away.
The sphere stretched wider, my head tilting back and my arms spreading wide as the power poured off of me. I didn’t know how much I possessed, or how much damage I could do, but I knew that Namir’s shadows danced through every part of the forest that surrounded his city, protecting it and apparently alerting him when his brother tried to get in.
If his magic was that vast, so was mine.
He’d said before that he only possessed the throne’s power, and that my connection to the shadows was different than his own.
Different enough to keep him away from me, I hoped.
There were no markings on my throat; our bond hadn’t actually formed. I didn’t know what would set that in action, but it wasn’t as if I could ask Namir.
He’d only tell me half the truth.
The wall of shadows I’d created continued spreading and stretching, pushing Namir with it. The king didn’t break through, though I could feel him fighting my magic, trying to cut through my shadows.
He couldn’t, though.
I was still free.
Not completely, but… free enough.
Chapter22
Namir
I collidedwith a tree hard enough to break a lesser fae’s back, then crashed to the ground too quickly for my shadows to catch me.
I deserved the pain, though.
Diora’s words had killed me—and they had killed me because I knew she was right.
I should’ve trusted her sooner.
I should’ve confided in her earlier.
I should’ve warned her that Laith would be coming after her, that her “monster” was just her mind and body’s way of protecting itself, that things weren’t always going to be as easy as they had seemed.
Since we’d met, I’d been trying to protect her. And I would never stop doing so—but I had gone about it the wrong way, that was for fucking sure.
I’d wanted to give her the life she dreamed of, where she could become a chef or a seamstress or a ceramicist, or whatever it was that she liked. I’d wanted her to live out her days safely and happily. I’d wanted her to have everything she could possibly imagine—to live a life filled with peace, and safety, and security.
But it was clear, now, that what I wanted for her wasn’t an option.