Heir of Stardust and Secrets (Mythic Spark #1)

28. Wisps of Legends

Chapter 28

Wisps of Legends

A s we waited for Thaddeus, I climbed out of bed, padding back and forth, trying to outpace my racing thoughts. A part of Amos was inside of me. Stars, no wonder it had felt so real.

“That’s why it felt so real.”

“Yes,” Fiora said.

“Why Nevander couldn’t wake me.”

“Yes.”

“Why the initial attack felt so…violating.”

“Yes.”

I continued to pace, Fiora and Tarrin watching me. Myron left, presumably to inform Caius.

“And why the room was cold—why I got those marks again?”

“Yes.”

“Is Amos aware of it? Does he know what happened in the vision last night?”

“No. Unless he retrieves the wisp directly from you.”

“So he’s not controlling the visions?”

“Not consciously, no.”

I wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse.

“Can we have the meeting anywhere but here?” I barked, unable to bear my guest suite for another second.

“You’re in your robe still,” Fiora said gently.

“I don’t care. Five hundred people—damn it, fae,” I corrected, “saw me half-exposed on the dance floor. Nevander saw me fully naked, and the king and I had sex. So, I think the cat’s out of the bag in regard to any lingering image of propriety we hoped to maintain.”

They blinked at me.

“Fine,” I said, striding to the wardrobe.

Fancy. Every piece was one of Alejandro’s majestic designs, each one grating on my last nerve. I slammed the door shut. With deceptive calm, and more venom than I’d ever mustered, I said, “What god must one pray to for a simple pair of pants and a shirt in this gods-forsaken place?”

Tarrin looked to Fiora in a silent plea for help.

Seconds later, clothes appeared out of nowhere on my bed.

“Thank you,” I gritted out and unceremoniously snatched the clothing off the bed and made my way into the lavatory, shutting the door behind me.

I took a moment to gather myself and splash some cold water on my face. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, grasping for any tether to normalcy.

Feeling less on edge, I wandered back.

Upon exiting the suite, Fiora held her hands out to Tarrin and me, valenning us away from that wretched room.

In a blink, we appeared in a shaded grove not much farther than Tarrin and I had wandered last night. I could see the terrace where I’d overlooked the gardens and was glad to feel oriented.

Moments later, Caius, Myron, Nevander, and Thaddeus appeared, startling me. I wondered if I could hone my senses to detect such things, then realized it didn’t matter; we were only here for a few more days.

Thaddeus stepped toward me, his eyes filled with concern, then halted. We were in mixed company now, and I was supposedly just his companion. It would be easier when we were back home. Home . The word lingered in my mind. The palace felt different from the familiar comfort the forest provided, more like how an actual home should feel. Safe. Comfortable. Familiar. Most importantly, not here.

“Why are we out here?” Caius asked.

“We needed some fresh air,” Fiora said, and I felt deep gratitude for her kind presence.

“Myron told us the theory. Is such a thing possible?” Thaddeus asked, getting straight to the matter.

“It is,” Caius said. “But it’s rare, and I doubt it’s happened more than a handful of times in Amos’s seven hundred years.” I jolted at the knowledge. Somehow, knowing he was that much older than Thaddeus, than anyone I now stood beside, made me feel vulnerable—like he had access to knowledge beyond our understanding.

Not truly wanting to hear the answer, I asked, “What happened to them? The ones who had a piece of him locked away in their minds?”

The fae stilled, the poignant hesitation of bad news. Nevander and Thaddeus moved closer to me, noticing it too.

I braced myself.

“None of this is a firsthand account,” Myron hedged, “but the stories tell of some going mad from the visions, unable to discern what was true and what was an illusion. Others became the high lord’s puppets, his power tethering his victims to him, while another account says they died from wounds manifested in the visions.”

“What about those who got rid of it?” I asked.

“There’s only one legend of the sort,” Caius began, his tone grave. “The tale speaks of Amos reclaiming the wisp, causing the host’s death. Whether it was intentional or not remains unknown.”

“So, no one has survived this,” I said, letting out a small, humorless chuckle.

“According to legend, no,” Caius replied, his voice laced with a kind of gentleness meant to sooth my panic .

“Well, that’s not an option,” I said. “What do we have to do to get this thing out of me?”

“Nyleeria—” Myron started.

“No. I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupted sharply. The tone he’d used, the pity… I’d heard it too much recently.

“I think what Myron was going to say,” Caius said, “is that, with you being human?—”

“Stop, please. You’ve made it perfectly clear what could happen, but I’m asking for us to find a way.” Silence met me, and I had to stop myself from crumbling to the ground. No, this couldn’t be happening. I dug in, forcing myself to speak. “I can’t endure this every night. If Nevander hadn’t woken me when he did”—my voice wavered, the memory threatening to suffocate me—“then the burn marks would’ve been the least of my worries.” I remembered the predatory glint in Amos’s eyes. The silent promise in them as he devoured every loosely veiled detail on display. The scraping of his tongue on my cheek.

I wrapped my arms around myself.

“I could try with my gifts, Nyleeria,” Myron offered, shaking the memory of Amos’ cold eyes from my thoughts.

I focused on him. “You mean by going deeper?” I asked.

“No. I mean by going to the deepest level I can,” he said, sterner than I’d heard him before.

“No,” I said simply. It was rude to refuse, but the risk… I couldn’t. I hadn’t even defended myself because of it. We would have to exhaust every other idea, no matter how outlandish, before I would consider it.

“May I ask, Nyleeria, why are you so resistant to Myron’s help?” Caius said. There was no judgment in his words, just concerned curiosity.

“You can ask,” I said, letting the rest of the words drop. The meaning was clear—I had no intention of responding.

Silence fell, and our conversation gave way to the ambient sounds of summer. Extending an arm, the sun’s warmth caressed my skin, and I stepped out of the shade, allowing the welcome heat to envelope me. Oh, how I’d missed summer, her soothing melodies, intoxicating fragrances, and fervent caresses. My lids slid closed as I gave in to the radiant embrace and let my soul soak in the life-giving light that was being offered to me.

“The Mother,” Caius said, his tone that of someone who’d just sprung an idea.

Shielding my eyes, I turned to face him. “What about her?”

“Well, I think we’re going on our date a little sooner than we thought.” A broad smile lit up his face, and he gave me a wink.