by Lexi C. Foss
“He might,” Kols said. “He knows the Quandary Bloods are still alive. Which means he knows I was trying to hide something by saying I dueled with Shadow.”
“I think he knows a lot more than you realize,” I drawled, very aware of what Malik knew and hid from his son. But it wasn’t my place to engage in that conversation.
Kols’s eyes flashed. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning you should talk to him,” I suggested, rolling my neck as another shudder went down my spine. Fucking gargoyle.
“And what should we do about Aflora?” Zeph demanded. “I’m not leaving her with Zakkai. You say he won’t hurt her, but your word is unreliable.”
“I’ve never lied to you.” I’d just withheld certain details. Or a lot of them. Regardless… “I would never put Aflora in jeopardy.”
His eyebrows shot up as he huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I believe that. She’s only been imprisoned twice because of you and then disappeared into a paradigm where I can’t mentally reach her at all. All three instances scream safety, don’t they?”
My teeth clenched. “She’s fine.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Then I’ll take you to her,” I said, throwing my hands wide. “Is that what you need? Because he’ll let me into the paradigm. I mean, he might kill you in the process since you’re tied to Kols, and he wants the entire Nacht family line to burn. But sure. Let’s give it a go. Now, perhaps?”
I was so done with this bullshit about trust and lies and deceit. I didn’t enter this role of my own volition. It chose me. Fate decided to make me her bitch and turn my world upside down. I’d spent years protecting everyone. And for what? To be attacked by a damn gargoyle and left to suffer beneath an elitist spell?
Fuck this shit.
I just wanted a damn nap.
No, I wanted to hold my mate.
Oh, but she hated me now. Again.
This wicked loop needed to fucking end.
“You know how to locate her?” Kols asked softly.
“Of course I do,” I snapped, done with this dance.
Kyros cocked a brow, surprised by my tone.
I ignored him.
“Can you work out a way for Zeph to see Aflora?” Kols pressed. “One where he isn’t killed by Zakkai? If what you say is true about him caring for Aflora, then perhaps he would be open to a meeting, to discuss how to work this out between us.”
Now Kyros’s lips parted.
As did mine.
Because never had Kols suggested such a notion. He always wanted to charge in there with all his elitist energy and destroy.
But now… he wanted to talk? To seek a potentially diplomatic solution? This couldn’t all just be because I’d bitten him. Maybe it had something to do with Aflora, or the Council sharing their knowledge of the Quandary Bloods. That’d been another change in this rendition of events, as had everything that occurred before it.
This entire version of time differed from the others.
It sparked a glimmer of hope inside me that maybe I’d finally gotten this right.
I really hoped that was the case because there was no going back now, not without forfeiting everything I’d learned in the process.
“I can try talking to Zakkai,” I said slowly. That wouldn’t have been possible in the past since I’d betrayed him in every way. But this time, I’d worked with him, at least on the surface. I still had every intention of betraying him in the end.
Unless…
No. I couldn’t think like that. Not after everything I’d seen.
Zakkai was dangerous to us all. And Aflora would be, too, if she chose to join his path.
Hell waited for us all regardless of her decision.
“I want to talk to him, too,” Zeph said. “He doesn’t scare me.”
“He should,” Kyros interjected, pushing off the wall. “Because he scares the shit out of me.” His dark eyes landed on me. “We good?”
I nodded. “For now.”
“Excellent.” He stroked the hilt of his sword and vanished.
I wanted to do the same thing, but one look from Kols had me remaining in the hall.
“We need to talk through our relationship going forward,” he said.
I frowned and pinched my leg, concerned that perhaps I’d fallen into a dream state after the gargoyle’s little attack. Because this wasn’t the Kols I knew. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent Kyros away.
“I know you’re still hiding things,” he continued. “And I’m going to overlook it. But we need to work together, not against each other.”
My brow furrowed as I glanced between him and Zeph.
When the Warrior Blood nodded in agreement, I knew this all had to be a dream. Because no way in hell would these two ever decide to work with me.
“We’ll start by you contacting Zakkai to arrange a meeting,” Zeph said, his green eyes on me. “I want an introduction to this infamous Source Architect.”
Kols nodded. “As do I.”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear before, but Zakkai wants to kill you, Kolstov.” I made sure each word was enunciated clearly so there could be no mistake in the interpretation of my words. “He wants to kill Tray and Ella, and anyone and everyone else associated with the Nacht family. Do you understand that?”
“Then Aflora is in danger,” Tray interjected. “Because she’s mated to Kols.”
“Not fully mated,” I replied. “And Zakkai can help her undo that link, something that will be even easier for him to do if Kols goes anywhere near him.”
“She won’t let him remove our bond.” Kols sounded far too confident. “And even if she does, I’ll just bite her again.”
“If you’re alive to do it,” I pointed out, shaking my head. “You’re asking me to help you commit suicide.” And I’d bitten him to prevent that. “I may not like you, but I am not going to help you die.”
“I can’t be killed by you talking to him, can I?” Kols countered.
No, but I certainly could, and then what? I thought, exhausted from this conversation and several iterations of it before this point.
Of course, the others all ended rather violently, so I preferred this temporary lapse in pain to discuss this cordially.
Except Kols apparently had a death wish in this version of events.
Because I’d bitten him? Was that the catalyst for this madness? Or had I finally determined the right sequence of events?
I shook my head, my mental gymnastics giving me a colossal headache. “I need a nap before I talk to Zakkai.”
“Okay,” Kols agreed.
I studied him. “Seriously, this whole”—I waved a hand over him, unsure of how to define his behavior—“is alarming.”
His lips twitched. “This whole what?”
I just gestured at him again because fuck if I knew how to describe it.
The result made him chuckle and Zeph roll his eyes. “Do you two need a room?” the Warrior Blood deadpanned.
“No. I’ll be fine in Aflora’s bed,” I muttered, shadowing to her room before either of them could argue with me. Her floral scent hit me right in the chest, sending a spike of agony through my spirit as I fought the urge to reach out to her again. To apologize for what I’d done. To verify that she was okay.
But I felt her in the bonds, her fury hot and very much alive.
Give him hell, little rose, I whispered to our closed mental door. Flay him alive.
Because Zakkai fucking deserved it and worse.
I hated him more than I hated myself.
Or I wanted to, anyway.
If I were honest, I also understood him. Which was why I’d sided with him in previous versions of our history. And also why I allowed a tiny flare of hope to touch my senses now.
Maybe this time we would get it right.
Or maybe… maybe this was the final version that would end us all.
ZAKKAI DIDN’T WANT to give me clothes? Fine. I’d make my own with the wand he’d l
eft on the nightstand.
My wand, I thought, my lips curling. I could feel the power whirling through me, recognizing my inner magic. Maybe at one point it had belonged to him, but it was mine now.
“Now, what to wear?” I mused, tapping my lip.
I muttered an incantation and waved the conduit around while studying myself in the mirror. Pants and a shirt were too plain. Hmm, a dress was too formal. No, I needed something rebellious and badass.
Knee-high boots—yes.
I paired it with a skirt.
“Hmm.” I uttered another spell, changing the fabric to a checkered pattern with dark green as the primary color. I added a white blouse, then magicked a cloak with a three-headed-snake charm as the clasp.
Zeph would be so proud. I resembled a Warrior Blood.
I tapped my chin. What else? I added a choker to the mix with gleams of red silk woven between black strands. Kols would appreciate the Elite Blood touch.
And lastly, I created a band for my wrist with violet threads to resemble Shade. I wasn’t happy with him, but he’d never hidden his devious intentions from me. He’d even warned that I would hate him, which I’d sensed hurt him deeply. So whatever he was up to held a deeper purpose; I just didn’t know what it was yet.
The only missing embellishment was a cerulean flair. Nope. Not adding that. If Zakkai wanted me to wear his colors, he could provide me with more than a robe.
I ran my fingers through my blue-black hair, gave myself a once-over in the mirror, and tucked my wand into the pocket of my cloak.
Where are you? I asked my Quandary Blood mate.
Find me was his coy reply.
I narrowed my gaze. You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?
His responding chuckle did nothing to alleviate my ire. If anything, it only stoked the flames. I didn’t appreciate his little mental mind game or the memories he’d implanted in my head. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be. Yet, I couldn’t find any trace of magic surrounding their existence. It felt as though he’d unlocked them, not placed them there, and that was even more unnerving.
What else existed in my memories that I didn’t know about?
I shivered and focused on finding Zakkai instead.
It wasn’t hard. He’d practically left me a path of cerulean magic to follow. I couldn’t see it so much as feel it, the energy signature familiar and palpable to my senses.
I wound through the stone corridor, noted the fire lamps flickering with magic along the rocky interior, and passed several closed doors.
Two Midnight Fae stood sentry at the end of my path, one of them opening the final doorway for me and revealing yet another hallway, this one lined with glass windows on one side. I peered out of them and noted the array of wildlife and trees below. We were about three stories up, in some sort of castle. The sun rose over a set of mountains in the distance, making me frown.
This landscape wasn’t anything like the burning thwomps on the Academy grounds. No charcoal blades, raven-like stones, or fire gnats. Just a meadow of pretty flowers, healthy trees, and a mountain of green.
It’s not time for gardening, Aflora, Zakkai taunted in my thoughts, reminding me of the memory he’d skewed.
Stay out of my head.
Afraid I can’t do that, sweet star. You’re my mate, after all.
For now, I retorted. We’re going to break the bond, at least according to the fake event in my head.
Who says it’s fake?
I do, I replied, trailing after his essence again down the hall. It led me to another stone corridor lined with doors.
A few Midnight Fae mingled, all pausing to stare at me with widening eyes.
I ignored them, holding my head high, and allowed my cloak to billow in my wake. No sense in making friends. I didn’t plan to be here long.
A pair of double doors stood closed at the end of the hall, the edges lined in Zakkai’s energy. I sent a blast of magic against the center to blow the doors open, then walked through the threshold with the sole intention of finding the man playing in my head.
Only, a room of Midnight Fae paused mid-bite to gape at my rather forward entry.
They were all framed by windows overlooking the mountain, their tables evenly spaced in a cafeteria-style setting with Zakkai at the front of the room.
He sat beside Laki—if that was even his name—and several other fae. All of them stared at me as I approached, the chatter turning to whispers.
I ignored them all, my focus on my mate. He’d changed into a button-down shirt and tie, his white hair loose and wild around his broad shoulders.
The picture of sin.
He even had a glass of red wine—likely spiked with blood—to finish off his vampiric appearance. He sipped from the rim as his silver-blue eyes ran over me in clear appreciation. Then he set the glass down as the brunette beside him leaned over to whisper in his ear. It was an unmistakably intimate gesture that she strengthened by sliding her hand under the table, presumably to rest on his thigh.
I studied her familiar features with a frown.
Dakota, I recalled. She’d referred to me as a queen.
And from what I inferred by her current body language, she was very friendly with my king. My heart raced at the notion, my eyes narrowing as a result.
She had to know Zakkai was my mate.
Except he intended to break our bond, so maybe she didn’t care.
I shouldn’t care either.
However, part of me wanted to march over there and remove her hand from Zakkai’s leg. A ridiculous instinct, considering I didn’t even want him to be my mate.
I already had three; I didn’t need a fourth. This was just temporary. If he wanted to make flowers with that dark-haired Elite Blood, then so be it. I’d much prefer to just kill him anyway.
Have you come to play? he asked into my mind, his head cocking to the side—the side that was noticeably away from Dakota.
That’s interesting, I thought, ignoring his question.
Her full lips pursed as she straightened, her dark eyes flicking to me. “Nice of you to finally join us,” she said, removing her hand from Zakkai’s thigh to place it on the back of his chair in a decidedly proprietary move.
He didn’t seem to notice or care—likely because she touched him often—and instead smiled at me. “I see you decided on Academy attire. Does that mean you want a lesson?”
A hum of conversation flowed behind me, a hint of excitement touching the air.
“Last I checked, classes with you weren’t part of my curriculum. I think I’ll stick with the itinerary Kols provided, thanks.”
His grin widened. “Oh, but there’s so much I can teach you,” he said, his voice a sinful caress that seemed to imply so many meanings to his phrase.
“Kai,” his father said, a hint of caution in his tone.
“One moment,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with wicked intent. “I’m indulging our queen.”
“I’m not your queen.” I folded my arms. “You’re not Elemental Fae.”
“No, we’re not,” he agreed. “But you are most definitely my queen.” He pushed his chair back, knocking Dakota’s hand from it without ceremony. She quickly pulled her arm in, her lips flicking downward in brief annoyance before flattening into a straight, emotionless line.
“Kai,” his father tried again, but Zakkai was already moving around the table.
“Did you have trouble sleeping, Aflora?” he asked as he sauntered toward me. “Is that the cause of your current mood?”
“Trouble sleeping?” I scoffed at the notion. “Is that what you call it?”
He smirked and stopped in front of me to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
Sweet star, you’ve insulted me by charging in here while wearing clothes that represent all your mates except me. He cupped my cheek. If you kneel for me, I’ll forgive you. The words were softly spoken into my mind, a promise underlined in intent.
This was his territory, not mine.
It would be wise to show a little respect.
The problem was, I had no respect left in me to give.
“I’ll never kneel for you.” I enunciated the words clearly for everyone to hear. Maybe I should have replied mentally, but I had nothing to hide. And I meant what I said. “I bow to no one.”
Gasps met my bold statement.
But a glimmer of amusement shone in Zakkai’s gaze. “I can make you kneel.”
“You can try,” I countered.
The crowd broke out in louder whispers, and Laki heaved an audible sigh from the front of the room.
Apparently, my responses bothered him. Well, he could eat a burning thwomp. So could Zakkai, for that matter. “Just break our bond, and I’ll be on my way,” I said.
“Did you bring my wand?” he asked, ignoring my statement.
“No, but I brought my wand.”
His lips twitched. “Good. You’re going to need it.” He began rolling his shirtsleeves to his elbows, his gaze holding mine. “I’ll give you the first spell for our duel. I’m a gentleman like that.”
“Duel? I’m not dueling with you.”
“Oh, but you are, little star. You’ve challenged me, and I accept. So we’ll duel.”
“I didn’t challenge you.”
“Consider this your first lesson, Aflora. When you inform your king that you refuse to bow to him after insulting him with your entry and attire, it results in a challenge.” He cracked his neck, his shirt fully rolled to his elbows now. “Either kneel or deliver your first spell.”
“You’re not my king.” Perhaps goading him was the wrong thing to do, but my survival sense no longer seemed to exist.
“I’m the Source Architect. That makes me your king.” The patience underlining his tone would have been admirable had I been able to admire him.
“A title doesn’t command respect,” I informed him in a similar tone. “Actions do.”
He arched a brow. “Meaning?”
“You attacked an academy full of students and a village of innocent Midnight Fae. Those are actions I’ll never bow to.” Not to mention altering my memories, I added mentally with a narrowing of my gaze. I’m not some delicate little flower you can manipulate with your Quandary magic.
