I frowned at the apparition, trying to discern dream from reality when those cruel eyes locked on me and narrowed.
Reality, I decided, closing my eyes to focus on falling into Claire’s mind...
“You don’t belong here,” Ophelia said, her voice sharp and cold and reminding me of our stark surroundings. Wherever she’d taken Claire, it was icy and unwelcoming.
“I could say the same to you,” I replied, cocking my head. “What are doing to my mate, Ophelia?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Mate?”
“Don’t play coy. You know what Claire means to me and can sense our bond. What is it you want, Ophelia?” I demanded.
She blinked at me, the action slow and deliberate. I glanced around the cell, noting the rotting bars and moldy stones. Somewhere with water, which made sense. Ophelia was a Spirit Fae with access to the water element.
But why would she choose this as her desired meeting location?
“Where’s Claire?” I asked, searching for the source of whimpering I still sensed in my mind.
“She’s fine,” Ophelia said. “It was you I wanted to talk to.”
I arched a brow. “Interesting. I thought I didn’t belong here.”
“You don’t. Or I thought you didn’t.” She shook her head, a hint of madness lurking in her expression.
She resembled a much older, far more tired Claire. Something that shouldn’t be possible on a fae so young. It appeared as if someone had siphoned all her beauty and youth from her, leaving her frail and gaunt.
“Why am I here, Ophelia?” I prompted, drawing her focus back to me and away from whatever thought had captured her mind.
“You care… about my Claire?” she asked, sounding uncertain.
“She’s my mate.”
“Not just a ruse?” Her head tilted in an eerie way. “She says you’re using Claire for power. But I don’t sense deceit.”
“She who?” I wondered.
“You know who,” Ophelia replied cryptically. “She’s orchestrated all of this, you know. I never should have listened to her. I thought… I thought she would leave me be. Freedom is a dream, young king. She lied.”
“Who lied?” What started as a coherent conversation had melted into confusion.
“She did,” Ophelia murmured, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. “Part Dark Fae. Part Spirit. She’s using my Claire. You’ll see. You’ll all see soon.” She began to hum a broken song, the sound hauntingly beautiful. “She’s coming. I need more—”
A harsh zap had me grabbing my head and stumbling backward, the dark cloud in my mind sucking energy from me on a gush of sound that brought me to my knees.
Cyrus’s voice rose above the chaos, his hands on my shoulders as he blasted me with his water element and knocked the leech loose from my spirit.
“Fuck!” someone shouted.
But I was too busy reeling beneath the unexpected attack.
The bitch had tried to siphon spirit off me, using me to connect to the source.
I gripped my hair, ready to pull it from my head when I heard Claire screaming from the bed. It snapped me out of the last vestiges of my dream state and sent me flying toward her, only to see her gazing upward with tear-ridden eyes. She grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me onto the mattress, her arms weaving around my neck. “I thought… I thought…” She hiccupped, her voice in hysterics, her body trembling beneath mine. “I thought she took you from me…”
“I’m right here, princess,” I whispered, meeting Cyrus’s furious stare. “I’m fine.”
“You’re a fucking idiot is what you are,” my brother seethed. “You let that thing in your head again!”
“She was in Claire first,” I argued. “Better she latch onto me than her.”