From a guardian standpoint, I approved. And I imagined Cyrus did as well, hence his presence in Claire’s life.
I ran a palm over my face, thinking of all the things I needed to discuss with my brother. He would want to know who knocked me out and put me down here, but I couldn’t remember. My memories were hidden beneath a thick wall of ink, one I hoped Cyrus could help me demolish. Because the answers were right there, at the back of my mind, hidden behind that mossy black substance. I’d prodded at it all week, trying futilely to demolish the block. Whoever had put it there was powerful in the darkest way.
Mortus seemed too likely a suspect, even though I sensed his presence all around this place.
No, I suspected something more sinister.
Someone had been using him as a puppet.
But the question remained: Who?
A gust of wind sailed through the room, blowing out the torches on the walls. I relit them with a wave of my fingers, the fire second nature. Claire’s presence hummed on the breeze, her eagerness thickening my blood.
“Exos?” she called, her voice the most beautiful sound in my existence.
“Over here, baby.” I clasped the iron bars, hoping she could at least see my hands from where she stood.
Her energy warmed my being as she approached.
So close.
Almost there.
My Claire.
My breath stuttered out of me at the sight of her, all those golden locks illuminated by the flame in her palm. Her blue eyes seemed lit from within, her smile rivaling mine. “There you are,” she breathed, studying my prison cell. “Back up.”
Vox and Sol came to stand behind her, their postures protective. Especially the Earth Fae’s. And the look he directed at me said I was the threat in his mind.
I tilted my head as I stepped away from the bars—per Claire’s request—and met the male’s gaze. “You’ve been hurt by one of my kind.” I could see it in the scars lurking in his spirit.
“Understatement,” he grunted.
My lips curled. “I bet you and Cyrus get along famously.”
Both Sol and Vox snorted at the mention of my brother, which only amused me more. Cyrus only knew how to rule, his royal blood providing him with the authority and power to do so. And he excelled at it by not putting up with petty bullshit.
Like past grievances that didn’t apply to either of us.
Hmm, but with Sol, I bet he took a measured approach, not demanding he do anything at all while allowing him the false perception of making his own choices.
I shook my head. Cyrus was good. Very, very good.
Claire’s elements whirled around her, a mixture of water and air building in her palm. “I’m going to blast the hinges,” she said, focusing.
“Damn,” Sol replied, arms folded. “I’d sort of like to see you burst through this door like you did upstairs.”
“And hit the Spirit Royal in the face?” Vox asked, arching a brow. “Would definitely leave a mark.”
Sol smiled. “Exactly.”
“We’ve only just met and already you’re making threats.” I tsked. “And here I hoped we could function as a happy unit.”
“Yeah? Talk to your ass of a brother about that.” Sol’s animosity clouded the air, suggesting I’d missed some sort of altercation.
“Shh,” Claire murmured, her eyes closing. “I need to hear.”
Energy singed the air, blowing her hair away from her face and painting her spirit in a warm glow that rivaled my own. I braced myself against the wall, sensing the building power, and grinned as she expertly honed in on the hinges of the door with a shock of ice. They froze instantly, then rattled beneath her onslaught of wind, cracking and inevitably shattering to the floor.