Page 39 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“I’m listening.”
“Magic depletes in one of three ways: using it yourself, a Well-blessed mate borrowing it, or forceful, stolen depletion—like what happened to Rory. The former two ways rejuvenate naturally, but the latter cut a fae’s lifespan to mortal levels. When Rory had no more to give, she aged. What if Titania did the same to humans who woke from the old world? What if being a Never means they’ll never have magic again?”
“You’re saying I could have been like you—” Geraldine shakes her head. “I mean, like your mother was?”
Guilt floods me as I think of how, by learning to be his weapon, I indirectly aided Nero’s theft of magic from my own people. As a Reaper, Rory went on missions specifically to steal from Guardians so Nero could portal with forbidden metal—bringing guns and ships into Elphyne.
“It’s a theory,” I admit, rubbing my neck.
Geraldine’s eyes harden. “Then that bitch stole from us. Made us mortal.”
I hug her until the tension eases from her shoulders, then return to brooding at the fire, longing for my old fire-sprite friends.
“We don’t know for sure,” I remind her. “But she tried enslaving the Six instead of asking about their Guardian teardrops.” My gaze darts around, following the flickering light. “She might not have needed to steal anyone’s magic if it still flowed abundantly in this land. Five years is enough time for magic to fade with all the metal used here.”
The saddest part? If it meant escaping Titania’s chains, I wouldn’t put it past the Six to deliberately let magic fade. Fox’s words echo:“We will devour the world if it means keeping you safe.”
“None of this is in the books,” Geraldine frowns at the shelves. Max’s soft snoring joins Peggy’s between fire crackles. “I found only a small section on the Sluagh, as you mentioned.”
“Maybe Titania wanted it that way. This keep is enchanted. Fox collected some items himself, but everything else could be her design.”
“Where would he have gathered authentic books, in Elphyne?”
“Titania and Oberon brought many treasures into their original slumber,” Legion answers, startling us as he enters with Bodin. “Then they brought them back into this world when they woke. Fox raided the Ivory Palace whenever he could.”
Legion cuts an imposing figure in his tailored black winter coat. Brass spectacles perched on his nose add to his austerity and catch the flickering firelight. Bodin’s presence is equally commanding in a black shirt, open at the collar. It’s the same cut as his work shirt but somehow more decadent. Maybe silk. The laces are open enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of a smooth, muscular chest. It’s hard to look away. There’s something about the clothes he prefers that makes my blood heat. Everyone else covers up in this cold, but not him.
“Are you wearing that?” Bodin frowns at my outfit.
Having been toBurn After Reading, I know my low-cut dress is tame compared to typical attire.
“You will don a cape,” Legion states.
“Have you not been there?” I counter. “It’s warm.”
“Then you will change into something . . . more.”
My brows rise. “You directed Peablossom to make this dress—my whole wardrobe, in fact.”
He clears his throat. “That was before.”
“Before what?” I tease, though I know exactly what he’s alluding to, and it makes me all hot and prickly and giddy inside.
“You are being deliberately obtuse,” he says, without real bite.
I shrug, smirking. “My other dresses are similar. We don’t have time to change. It’s almost midnight. Oh, and Cait said her offer still stands. Mean anything to you?”
Dodging the subject clearly irks him. But instead of snapping at me, he turns his piercing glower on Geraldine.
She quickly averts her eyes, fear spiking her scent like spilled pepper. I bump Legion’s shoulder, glaring at him and Bodin.Be nice,I mouth. Today’s training scared my friends enough. If this is more possessive, protective bullshit as earlier, I won’t stand for it. My friends don’t need to feel unsafe in their own home. Because that’s what this is—their home. The Six will have to learn to coexist.
Bodin looks perplexed by my annoyance, but Legion’s expression smooths into something more approachable. Geraldine keeps her head bowed through our silent exchange.
I squeeze her hand reassuringly. After an hour of researching the Sluagh’s monstrous origins, I don’t blame her fear.
Legion eyes Peggy sleeping at the table and Max by the fire. “Unfortunately, your friends may no longer lodge at the castle.”
“What?” I gasp. If that’s his version of ‘nice,’ we need a serious talk.
