The Chalice of Nightmares (Lorcan fanfiction)

Chapter 17

Lorcan's gaze remained fixed on the tree line, his patience fraying with every passing second. His foot tapped an irregular rhythm, the only outward sign of the frustration boiling inside. Two hours—Seraphin had been gone for two hours. She had disappeared into the woods with Whitehorn, and while the fae male had returned, Seraphin had not.

Whitehorn had said she needed time, but Lorcan couldn't fathom what she could be doing for two fucking hours. He clenched his jaw, glancing at the sky as if to measure the fading light. Ten more minutes, he decided. If she didn't show up by then, he would go into the woods himself and drag her back, whether she liked it.

Aelin's voice cut through the still air, her conversation with the red-haired female sharply contrasting with Lorcan's mounting tension. The stranger had shown up an hour ago, commanding an armada to her name.

Lorcan had sized her up in the few moments he'd spent looking her way but dismissed her as a non-issue. She wasn't his concern right now.

As usual, Whitehorn stuck to Aelin's side, like a dog to its master. In the shade nearby, the shifter rested, curled near Aedion Ashryver, the two appearing far more relaxed than Lorcan felt. Fenrys, Gavriel, and Elide stood around the fire, a small bubble of calm amidst the chaos, while the witch and Dorian strolled through the grass as if they hadn't a care in the world.

They were an odd bunch, and one he would have preferred not to acquaint himself with had Seraphin not wished to. And just like that, Lorcan's mind was already halfway into the woods, imagining the worst. His eyes kept drifting back to the trees—searching, waiting.

Then, the shifting of branches caught his eye. At first, he thought it was a trick of the wind, but no—something moved, parting the foliage. His pulse quickened, a flare of relief taking hold as a figure stepped out of the woods.

A female with a cap of silver hair that shimmered beneath the sun's fading light, her steps deliberate, and purposeful as she headed towards him.

Lorcan exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His feet moved instinctively, closing the distance between them, his eyes locked on Seraphin as though he were afraid she'd disappear again. His hand ached to touch her, his fingers desperate for the feel of her skin, for the silky weight of her hair between them. His gaze softened, hungry to drown in the green depths of her eyes.

He had never cared much for the colour green—until he met her. Now, it seemed to surround him, in the grass beneath his boots, in the leaves of the trees, in the very essence of his being. The world had turned green, and it was because of her.

Two hours, he thought with a flicker of self-deprecation. She'd only been gone two hours, and here he was, on the verge of falling apart, desperate and restless. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it—if it weren't so damn true. But none of that mattered because she was his mate. He would never leave her side.

But as Seraphin drew closer, something in her posture made him pause.

Her steps were slow, hesitant as if each one cost her something. Her shoulders were drawn tight, her skin pale as moonlight. When she finally reached him, her greeting was soft, her voice lacking the warmth that usually sparked between them.

"Hey," she said, her lips curving into a smile that felt wrong. Too brittle. Too close to breaking.

Lorcan frowned, his heart clenching. He stepped forward, his hand already reaching for her. "What's wrong?"

Her smile faltered, just barely, but enough for him to see the cracks. "Nothing."

She glanced away, her fingers twisting at the hem of her tunic. When he moved to cup her face, she shied away from his touch, a tiny movement that shouldn't have hurt as much as it did—but it sliced through him all the same.