Seven Courts of Love and Magic

Chapter 8

Zaria

Someone is pulling at my arm—hard. Through the chaos of the night, I don't recognize him at first, but then his blue eyes pierce through the darkness. Nyx.

His grip is relentless and his angry voice comes out in rasps. His hair falls in ringlets in front of his eyes. "Are you out of your mind?" He's pulled me away from the crowd. "What in Cauldron's name do you think you're doing?'

"I'm performing the Great Rite—let go of my arm." I grunt in pain and pull out of his grasp, rubbing the sore skin.

His eyes are a dark storm. I can feel the rage rolling from him in waves. "Like Hell you are. I'm not letting some random male fuck my mate."

His mate. His mate? I take a step back, letting out a harsh laugh, reeling with anger myself. "Your mate? Suddenly that means something to you?"

He swallows, the muscles in his neck tensing. He doesn't know how to respond. The drums beat in the background, the smell of burning wood suffocating the air around us.

I turn to go back, smug. "That's what I thought."

He grabs my hand this time, stopping me. "Wait." He sounds desperate. Don't let it fool you. It's his natural response, his primal instinct.

I yank on his hand, pulling him close, ensuring he hears my words with clarity. "I am not your mate. And restoring the magic of Prythian means more to me than anything else."

He doesn't pull away, his face inches from mine. "This is ridiculous Zaria, this isn't going to restore Prythian, not even close."

We've retreated further into the shadows. I'm screaming. "Then help me, Nyx." He looks around with a worried expression, searching for my father, no doubt. "Help me like you wouldn't the first time I asked you."

He hesitates and I look down between us to where our hands remain entwined. I feel cold, despite the fires surrounding us. The warmth of his hand is welcoming but I let go, taking a step back, keeping the necessary distance between us.

Shaking my head, I turn to finally leave, to rejoin the ceremony, but his voice calls out from behind. "I will, okay, I will help you. I didn't hear you before, but I do now."

I shake my head again, not turning to face him. I can't look him in the eyes if he's going to disappoint me again. "I'm not making the mistake of trusting you this time," I say quietly.

His voice is barely above a whisper. "My father is dying. I hear you now. Please." My control breaks at the word and I whirl. I see the blue depth of the sea, begging me. "I need to help—for him, for Prythian, for you, for the Spring Court." He hesitates. "For me."

——————

We stray far from as many people as possible and Nyx follows me into my room. Iris is relaxed on my pillow, purring softly. I bend down to pull off the thin slip covering me and find Nyx watching me with a strained look. He turns around instantly, avoiding my gaze. I laugh softly and step out of the slip. "Please, it's nothing you've never seen before." I glance at him from over my shoulder. He shifts uncomfortably and shoves his hands into his pockets.

I change into a comfortable tunic and loose pants. "You can turn around now," I say, crossing my arms. He turns slowly, making sure it's safe.

Crawling over the covers of my bed, I shove towards Iris, taking the cat into my lap. Nyx stands in front of me, his hands still shoved in his pockets, unsure of what to do or say. The drums can still be heard from the distance, the fires still burning bright through my window. He looks from me to them and after a few silent beats, finally speaks. "I can't believe Tamlin made you do the Great Rite," he says with disgust.