Page 64 of This Midsummer Heart
I must be careful with mine.
Seeking answers after what feels like both an extremely long sleep and a short bout of wakefulness, I begin, “The elf who brought me here—“
That’s as far as I get before Mercurial jumps in. “He’s the dark elf king, isn’t he? Auberon! And that makes you the lady Titaine, Houselord of the Fetes!” Mercurial presses a hand to her chest, bowing her head. Even without a clear view of her features, it’s apparent she’s very young. “I am one of the fetes under your care, my lady, though not all of us here are.”
My face must register my surprise, for Evanora continues, “It’s true, my lady, that the people of the south mostly consider themselves separate now, unless they came from the northern wolding in recent years. I myself never thought to answer to any Houselord but that of the Enchanters—but I see you are worthy of the title. Not just any fete could survive two wounds from a fae-killer blade.”
Awe has crept into her voice, but I cannot say I feel worthy of it. Mostly, I just feel horrible. “I don’t remember much of what happened, but that dagger—if it is an arcane fae-killer, that would explain much of how I feel.”
“The elf who brought you said it was such.” Evanora mirrors Mercurial, bowing her head. “I am sorry, my lady.”
Before she can continue, a flush of horror steals over my already prickling skin. I know what she is going to say.
My magic is gone.
Even now, as I try to reach for it, it’s as cold and distant as the stars in the night sky. Everything I had, everything I still held onto despite the loss of magic around me, has vanished. It’s as if my very capacity to hold magic has been destroyed. But how? I remember the blade, and the shadow of my attacker…
“We healed you as best we could,” Evanora continues. “There is only so much we can do in the face of such a curse, even if the elf king broke it.”
“Auberon broke the curse?” I would not have thought it possible, but even raising my eyebrows hurts.
“That is what he said, before he collapsed.”
Wincing, I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Please, take me to him.”
“He’s sleeping, my lady,” Mercurial says, rushing to the other side of my bed. With the efficiency of an experienced healer, she simply grabs my ankles and stuffs my legs back into bed.
Maybe it’s for the best. I’m so tired…
“He’s been sleeping ever since he arrived here. The healers are having a bit of a disagreement about why, but it looks like magical overuse to me. When his body is ready, he’ll wake.”
Magical overuse. He must have used everything he had to get across the Bridge of Miracles. “Would you believe me if I told you he had no particular magic until a few days ago?”
Mercurial and Evanora both cock their heads, highlighting the unusual length of their necks. “Has magic strengthened on the northern continent?” Evanora asks. “How could an elf gain more magic, so far from the spirit lines of Nox and Chrysanthemum across the sea?”
I close my eyes, feeling sleep stealing over me as surely as if I’d just taken a draught. I’ve never felt this weak before. I’ve never felt so…unremarkable.
Which provides me with a way to explain.
“Auberon is a remarkable man. No, magic isn’t returning to the northern continent. But chaos is.”
Mercurial sucks in a breath. “Then it is good you are here, my lady. Mayhap the City of Nox will have better answers for you—and better magic to allow your body to heal.”
It might be minutes later when I hear Evanora speak again, her voice low as if she intends her words only for Mercurial. “A dark elf with awakened chaos magic. He must truly be the king of the dark elves—more like the kings of old in the stories. But if he is more chaos than darkness, he will need something to temper it.”
He does have something to temper it,I want to reply.Something to temper him as a man. Me. His opposite. His mate. We truly were meant to find each other on the road that day—even if we made a mess of so much that came after.
But my lips won’t move, and I suspect it would all sound like nonsense even if they could. A few weeks ago, I would’ve thought it was nonsense, too.
Now I can see what a fool I’ve been.
The man who crossed the Bridge of Miracles, who broke a horrible curse on an ancient blade, who traveled with me all these weeks, is not the same Auberon I was bonded to. He’s changed. The arrival of his magic is merely an outward sign of that.
The Blade of Hedril chose to manifest for him for a reason. And my heart, with all its magic, chose him for a reason, too, even if I was not strong enough to forgive old hurts and admit it.
“Need to tell him…” I manage, even though, this time, I’m not really trying to speak.
I need to tell him I love him. That I wish for a second chance. That I won’t hold back this time, or guard my heart, or pull away at the first sign of trouble. That I’ll truly be his.
