Page 15 of Magic Undaunted

“Why did you go alone?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Stryker’s gaze darkened, his breath catching. “Because I thought I could handle it. I was wrong.”

Unspoken desire hung between them. Her heart pounded as the truth settled over her. Neither of them could do this alone. Whether they liked it or not, she needed Stryker… and he needed her.

Chapter

Seven

STRYKER

Stryker sat in the small, dimly lit tent, rubbing his wrists where he’d been loosely bound. The rebel camp wasn’t at all what he expected. It hummed with activity, and the sounds of life—of camaraderie—seemed to be all around him. It was a strange thing, witnessing the rebels up close for the past few days. He had spent so long seeing them as enemies, threats to the order of Celestia, but now, watching them work together, caring for the rescued fae, he was beginning to see cracks in his once-clear beliefs.

The rebels were not the lawless, chaotic force the High Council made them out to be. They were unified, driven by something more than rebellion for rebellion’s sake. There was compassion here. Something Stryker had rarely felt among the cold, rigid ranks of the Council.

The soft murmur of voices drifted through the tent walls, and every now and then, he caught glimpses of fae checking on the wounded, offering words of comfort. It was unsettling how much it rattled him, this realization that these so-called enemies were more than just rebels. They were people. People who fought for something greater than themselves.

And yet, none of that prepared him for what was coming.

The flap of the tent shifted, and Stryker caught his breath as Elyria stepped inside. The tension between them had been simmering for days, but now, in this small space, it was like a live wire ready to snap. Her presence filled the tent, charged with the same intensity that had always drawn him in, even when everything else screamed for him to push her away.

She stood there for a moment, watching him with those sharp gray eyes, the weight of their shared history hanging between them like a heavy fog. Her face was set in a calm mask, but he could see the conflict beneath it. The struggle between duty and the raw emotion that pulsed between them.

Finally, she spoke, her voice cool but edged with something deeper. “We need to talk.”

Stryker sat up straighter, grinning as his gaze locked onto hers. “So, is this the part where you interrogate me?”

Her lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “Something like that.”

“Torture or seduction. I know which I’d choose.”

A soft smile escaped her as she moved closer, her presence sending a shiver through him. She was still so infuriatingly beautiful, still the same fierce warrior he had fallen for all those years ago. But she was also different—hardened, changed by the things she had seen and endured.

He couldn’t shake the memory of the last time they’d spoken like this, their heated argument before she had walked away. That fire, that passion, was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. But there was something else now—something raw and unspoken between them.

“What do you want to know?” Stryker asked, his voice low and steady, though inside he felt like a summer squall starting to build.

“I need to know what you know about the mage,” Elyria said, her eyes never leaving his. “About the weapon. About everything the Council is keeping hidden.”

Stryker clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, and I’m not convinced they know either. I was sent to investigate the incident at the gathering, which led me to the rogue mage. I don’t have all the answers, but I do think Oberon knows more than he’s letting on.”

Elyria shook her head, her eyes indicating frustration, but was it with him or the situation. “You’re lying. You’ve always had more access than anyone else. You’re Oberon’s loyal warrior. He keeps you close even though you aren’t fae.”

“My greatest shortcoming,” he chuckled, but her words had struck him like a blow. He knew he should remain calm, probe her for as much information as he could, but before he could stop himself, his anger flared. “You think I want to be loyal to Oberon? That I don’t question him, and my allegiance to him, every damn day now? You think I don’t know that they’re hiding something?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of his response, but she didn’t back down. “Then why stay with them? Why continue serving a Council that’s willing to sacrifice everything, even the lives of its own people?”

Stryker pushed to his feet, facing her as the air between them sizzled—years of anger and regret bubbling to the surface. He reached for her, but she took a step back. He let her go, again. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was doing my duty. My kind have been protecting Celestia and those who inhabit the fae realm from chaos. But now… I just don’t know anymore.”

Elyria’s breathing seemed to slow, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What about us, Stryker? Was that ever real, or was it just another part of your duty?”

The question hung between them, thick with pain and longing. Stryker felt the memories of their time together flooding back—the nights they had spent in each other’s arms, the way she had made him feel like there was more to life than duty and honor.

He stepped closer, his voice raw. “It was real. You know it was.”

Elyria’s eyes shimmered with something he hadn’t seen in years, something that stirred the old, familiar ache inside him. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, replaced by the mask she wore so well.

“I don’t know anything anymore,” she whispered, her voice breaking just slightly. “Everything I thought I knew… it all changed the moment the Council cast me out. You let them do it. You didn’t fight for me.”

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