Page 39
I gasp, nearly pulling back, but the stone in my other hand cools the burn, balancing the energies that flow through me. Whatever connection exists between these powers, they recognize each other, speaking across distance in a language only magic understands.
My fingers hover a hair’s breadth from the crack, where the faintest current of cool air grazes my skin.
Taking a deep breath, I reach into the fissure, but an unseen force stops my hand.
I spread my fingers over the invisible barrier, and a resonance rings out, vibrating through my bones and echoing in my chest. Light spiders outward from my touch to race along the veins of opal in all directions, illuminating the network spread throughout the mountain.
The blood tattoo burns white-hot for three heartbeats, then settles into a steady, pulsing glow that matches the rhythm emanating from beyond the seal.
Behind the light comes movement, an eye opening after eons of sleep. It isn’t alive, not in any way I understand, but it hungers, it waits, it remembers.
Images flood my mind of a palace of opal and moonlight, fae with skin that shifts through every color of the spectrum, a queen with hair spun of crystal, and unending darkness creeping through the sithe.
The visions vanish as quickly as they came, leaving behind only fragments and a sense of loss so profound my chest aches with longing for something I have never known.
My magic rises, demanding to fix what was broken, to unseal what has been imprisoned.
“Amalia Wolf, step away.”
The command cuts through the fog that had taken over my thoughts, and I snatch back my hand as if burned. The opalescent light retreats to a muted pulse, but the sense of waiting remains, taut with expectation.
Heart hammering, I turn slowly to find Theron standing at the edge of the overgrowth. Thalindor stands behind him, silent and tense, one hand resting on his sword.
Theron’s fear gives way to fascination as his attention moves past me to the fissure in the mountainside. Light from the crack casts strange shadows over him, sharpening his cheekbones and washing his silver irises in liquid mercury.
In this moment, the Silver King resembles a god from myth, come to the mortal realm to bestow favor and fury.
I lick my dry lips. “How did you find me here?”
His focus returns to me, and his lips twitch with amusement. “I can track you anywhere.”
“Motherfucker!” My fingers fly to the glamour cuff that hugs my ear. “Did you tag me?”
“I assure you, I had no such relations with my mother.” His lips widen into a smile. “And, yes, I quite enjoy the image of this tagging. You are a wild creature in need of monitoring.”
My lip curls in a snarl, and I move to unhook the cuff.
Theron crosses to me, and his hand covers mine. “Do not. It is not safe for you here.”
Then he takes in the rest of me, pausing at the deep V of my dress.
A purple flush darkens his cheeks. “Not safe, indeed.”
I snap my fingers under his nose. “Hey, my face is up here.”
“Was this not meant to draw attention away from your face?” His hand over mine shifts, and his thumb sweeps over my racing pulse. “Are you not gratified that your disguise is so effective?”
His berry sweetness fills my nose, offering a distraction of his own that I quash. I’m already too drawn to his twin brothers. I will not add further temptation to my list.
“Are you drunk, Your Highness?” I ask dryly. “Did you drink from the flaming fountain?”
With a put-upon sigh, Theron lifts his head. “What did you find?”
I rise to my feet, brushing dirt from the silk of my skirt. “A doorway. The stone is reacting to it, but it’s sealed, so I’m not sure Elionn could have come this way.”
Theron turns, and his hand rises to hover above the surface of the crack, not quite touching as he traces its outline in the air. His silver rings catch the light, reflecting it back in fractured rainbows.
“This shouldn’t be here,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Not after all this time.”
