Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

27. Getting Pedantic

Chapter 27

Getting Pedantic

I n my panic, I let the blanket slip from my grasp. I tried to snatch it back, but it had already fallen away, and I didn’t dare take my eyes off Amos. Thankfully, I had on my night shift, though the thin fabric did little to conceal my peaked nipples, which were now fully on display.

Amos noted them too, raking his ice-blue eyes up and down my practically naked body.

“Nice,” he crooned. Disgust ran through me, and the acrid taste of bile slipped up the back of my throat.

He sniffed the air and dragged his eyes over me once more. I had to stop myself from shrinking back.

“I see the king finally put his cock inside of you. Good for him. Maybe now the smell of lust he carries with him will be replaced with the sweet tang of your scent. How delicious.” He licked his lips as if he could taste me from scent alone.

I didn’t move. Didn’t dare say a word.

“Too bad he left. I would have been happy to do this with him; maybe you’d be more forthcoming if his life was on the line. No matter. I’ll get what I came for. No one will interrupt us this time, Nyleeria.” My name on his lips held nothing but violent promise, and a shiver jerked my body.

My ears popped as an impenetrable dome encased us once more.

It was that same deafening silence. Those same bonds. His same voice. Trapped. I couldn’t—A scream tore out of me, continuous and guttural, until it felt like I’d swallowed tiny shards of glass, and a mere whimpering rasp was all that came out.

The High Lord of Winter stared down at me with a vulpine grin.

Despair hit me, and I scrambled to look deep within for that core of power I’d silenced earlier—I wouldn’t go down without a fight. But as I searched, I was met with nothing. It was empty, devoid, as if it never existed.

Amos laughed.

“Not this time, Nyleeria.”

The bands solidified and tightened like a tourniquet, and my scream of pure agony was choked off. I closed my eyes, praying to anyone who would listen.

My body trembled so violently, I thought my spine would shatter, and I shook as if I were being throttled.

From a distance, I heard Nevander’s voice. I tried to grasp for it, but, like mist, I couldn’t hold on. He was on the wrong side of the barrier.

“I’m here,” I tried to scream, but only a screeched squeak came out. “Nevander. I’m here. Help me. Nevander.” I had to choke back the blood that bubbled up, forcing me to abandon calling out his name.

In a long, slow stroke, Amos licked away some of the gurgling blood that’d splattered onto my face.

“Are you ready to answer me now, sweet, delicious Nyleeria?”

“Nyleeria!” Nevander screamed in panic.

I half breathed, half swallowed freezing water, choking on it. Amos disappeared, and I looked up to find Nevander straddling me, gripping me hard .

“Wake up. I need you to wake up.”

I blinked the water out of my eyes and began coughing. As I found my way back to consciousness, I rolled toward the edge of the bed and vomited on the floor.

Nevander soothed me, placing a hand on my back as he said, “It was a dream. You’re safe. It was only a dream, Nyleeria.”

My stomach emptied again.

Once it settled, I eased back into bed. Unbearably hot and soaking wet from the bucket of water that Nevander had poured over me to wake me up, I flung the sheets off, and Nevander’s eyes widened in surprise. He quickly handed me a robe, a proper robe. It took me a moment to realize I was naked. I gave him a grateful look and slipped it around myself, tying it closed just before my body convulsed, cramping with the effort.

Dizzy and still oscillating between the dream realm and this world, I heard voices.

“How did this happen?” a male voice demanded—Caius’, I thought.

Nevander tried to explain to him that it was only a dream.

Fiora’s voice came through clearly from above me as I lay, unseeing, on my side. She gripped my wrists with tiny, delicate hands. “ This does not happen to someone from a simple dream,” she said, anger lacing her words.

“Does Thaddeus know?” Caius asked.

“Tarrin is getting him,” Nevander answered.

I lost consciousness, waking to Thaddeus’ tender hands stroking my hair.

“Nyleeria?” he asked gently.

My eyes fluttered open, but I couldn’t muster much more. My body recoiled at the effort, and I dry-heaved again.

“What happened?” Thaddeus demanded to the room at large. Smaller female hands replaced his, comforting me.

Nevander tried explaining again.

“How long did it take to wake her up?” Myron’s velvety voice asked .

“Almost ten minutes,” Nevander said, and I noticed then that his voice was raw from yelling at me to wake up. No wonder he’d used water.

“How long was she in this nightmare?” Myron asked like a healer trying to understand all angles before diagnosing and prescribing.

“Half an hour at most,” Nevander offered.

“How are you so sure of the timing?” Caius said, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Silence. Nevander didn’t answer knowing it was when Thaddeus had left—we all knew telling them would cost us.

“She had a visitor until then,” Nevander hedged.

“Who?” Caius demanded.

“That’s none of my business, and none of yours, High Lord,” he said, and everyone tensed.

“Caius, it’s of no consequence,” Fiora interjected. “If Nyleeria decides to tell us when she can, that will be her decision to make.” Her words left no room for negotiation, and I felt immense gratitude toward her.

“My darling,” Fiora said with deep affection to her love, “when you healed her, did you not help with the memory of today?”

“No,” Myron answered, his footsteps coming closer to her, to me.

“Why ever not, my dear? It’s something you would’ve done for a fae had they endured the same trauma. Surely, the girl deserves similar consideration, no?” Her words held no judgment but possessed the tone of someone looking to understand.

“She refused it. Once before I started healing her, and then again when I tried anyway.”

“She refused it before you began? How did she know about such a thing?” Fiora inquired.

“I’m not sure, but the second I tried, she told me to stop. It was like some sort of violation to her. I’ve encountered nothing like it.”

“Do you know why?” Fiora asked, and I assumed she was addressing Thaddeus .

Shit. I really needed to pull it together, get up, get both feet in this reality.

A long silence filled the room before Caius offered, “She communes with the Mother.”

“Does she really?” Myron asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yes, I think she knows and sees things that humans, and even some fae, remain blind to. She spent a lot of time in the forest as a child—still does, as she told me. I’ve even invited her to commune with me so I can teach her the Mother’s language, not just the feel of her. That’s how she experiences it,” he explained, and I had to give him credit for the accuracy with which he relayed our conversation.

“Guys,” Tarrin said, the word dripping with annoyance, “this is fascinating and all, but Nyleeria is lying over there in what looks like a catatonic state, with similar markings on her body as before. Can we please help the poor woman instead of having a philosophical conversation about how the Mother works in mysterious ways?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but he delivered the question seriously in a way only he could pull off.

“Right,” Myron said. “I can heal her again, going deeper this time.”

I groped blindly for Fiora.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Fiora said soothingly as she stroked my hair.

With great effort, I looked up at her, a plea in my eyes—the movement making my body go into another fit of convulsions.

“Myron,” Fiora said, “you can’t go deep.”

“Okay,” he relented, “I won’t, but I can put her in a dreamless state for a few hours to help heal past what my magic can do and give her mind a rest,” he explained. “Mind you, someone will have to stay and watch over her. I’ve never seen dreams manifest like this. I want to make sure she is okay.”

“I’ll stay,” Nevander offered.

I don’t know why, but more than anything, I wanted it to be Fiora. I squeezed her hand, a silent question. She smiled at me, and said, “No, I’ll take care of her.”

And at that, Myron’s familiar power gathered around him and ushered me to sleep.

Later, I awoke, finding Fiora next to my bed in one of the chairs from the sitting area. She put down her book and smiled at me.

“Hello, sweet child. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” The word came out as a squeak.

Fiora flicked her hand, and a droplet of water about the size of a fist appeared and floated before me. Too tired to be as mesmerized as I should’ve been, I sat up and softly cupped the water. Bringing it to my lips, I greedily drank it like the last dregs of soup in a bowl until it was gone.

I smiled, looking to Fiora. “I could get used to this,” I said, loving the casual use of magic.

“I believe you could, Nyleeria. I think Myron is right in that our realm was born for you.”

“I’m not really sure what that means.”

“You will one day, I suspect.”

“Thank you for staying with me, and for defending my privacy,” I added, a little embarrassed.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Nyleeria. King Thaddeus would make a fine lover, even for fae standards, by the looks of him,” she said with a knowing smile.

My eyes shot up. “How did you know it was him?” I asked, fully giving myself away if she’d only guessed it.

She laughed, the soft sound caressing me. “I was the first fae to enter this room, and the smell was, well, to put it delicately, strong. I let the breeze cleanse it from the air and threw a glamor over you and the king to hide the scent. I might have to let it stay over you, though; I’m not sure a bath will suffice.” She crinkled her nose.

“He said the same thing last night,” I said, and a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered what Amos had said about the king’s scent .

“Who did?” Fiora asked, looking confused.

“Amos. Well, in my dream. So, I guess it was my own figment, then,” I said, feeling stupid for treating the dream like reality.

“Information that you didn’t know presented itself through Amos in your dream?” There was a sharpness to her voice that made me go on alert.

“Yes. Why?”

“Was anything else revealed in this vision of yours?”

I noticed the change in wording from dream to vision but put it aside as I ran through the memory as quickly as I could, not wanting to linger. Dread filled me again.

“Well, Amos is right about one thing,” she said, her words making my stomach lurch.

“What?”

“I can smell your terror as you relive the vision, but your heart rate plummets, which is counter to any other creature’s natural response.” Her head tilted with curiosity, as if she were trying to figure out why.

I wasn’t sure what to say, so I settled on answering her original question. “No, nothing else was revealed.”

It looked like something dawned on her before she asked, “Nyleeria, can I ask you one more question about your encounter with Amos on the dance floor?”

I nodded, not wanting to answer but knowing she was following a train of thought.

“When he spoke to you, was it like you and I are talking right now?”

A shiver ran through me. “No. It was loud, as if it were coming from inside my mind, from all around me.”

“May I invite Myron back in?” Her voice was calm, but I could feel a sense of urgency in her tone that I hadn’t detected before.

I nodded, not thinking I had any other option, and curious about what my answers had revealed to her .

She got up and went to the door, then returned to my side. Within minutes, Myron entered the room.

“What is it, darling?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“It wasn’t a dream. It was a vision. Amos spoke in her mind, not to her, at the celebration,” Fiona explained. Baffled, I continued listening.

His eyes widened, then shot to me, assessing. “You’re sure,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His powers wrapped around me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, alarmed by the sudden intrusion.

“She can feel you, even when it’s that subtle,” Fiora said.

“Yes, every time.”

“Tarrin,” I called to the door, and instantly, he was there. I looked back to them. “I’m sorry, I want him here with me.”

Tarrin came up to the other side of the bed. Silent, but there, ready if I needed him.

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you, Nyleeria,” Myron offered.

“You’re talking about me as if I’m not here. It’s unnerving,” I said.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Tarrin demanded.

Ignoring Tarrin, Fiora addressed me. “Nyleeria, Amos has a rare ability to go into minds. It’s a fickle magic, one he can’t always control, but it exists nonetheless. Normally, when he enters, the breached mind has no awareness or recollection of what’s happened. You could tell, which is why it sounded like he was in your head. But more than that, I think that when he was forced to leave, a part of his essence, his magic, was trapped inside of you. The reason those marks showed up from your dream is because it wasn’t a dream at all but what’s called a dwelling vision—as real as what happened on the dance floor—and it’s serious.” The weight of her words pressed down on me, and a new wave of dread slid down my spine.

Tarrin must have felt it too.

“Nevander,” he called out, and the door opened at the command. “Get the king.”