Two months ago, Nymre would have laughed if someone told her she would host Lorian’s human slave in her chambers. Laughed even more if they said she would remain calm, clear-minded, composed. That she would speak to the girl rather than eviscerate her.
She had painted these walls with blood for far less. How many had died by her hand? A dozen? A hundred?
Yet when she looked at Leira’s face, she saw no threat. Nothing could shake the foundations of her inner peace anymore. Not a human. Not even the cleverest, most stubborn, most persistent of them. She was a fairy – destroyer of Arelt, ruler of the throne’s heart. Ain’asel lay beneath her feet. This human was nothing more than a small inconvenience along her path.
Leira – by fairy standards – was not beautiful. Her limbs were shapely but thick, her body curvy and round, with soft flesh here and there. A wide, round face. Any fairy born with such traits would have lived in misery.
And yet something about her had caught Lorian’s eye. Maybe it was that very difference – her exotic appearance, even among the slaves. But surely, it wasn’t just her looks. There was something else in Leira. Something that stirred Nymre’s curiosity.
Now she stood before her, gaze half-lowered, not out of fear, nor submission. Perhaps she knew Nymre couldn’t truly harm her. That Lorian stood between her and the end of her life. And Nymre would end it – without regret – not for her own plans. How much this human woman understood those plans didn’t matter.
Leira… Nymre had been there when she killed her lover to stop Lorian’s shadows from claiming him fully. She knew the life she lived afterward in Dal’coler. So what has changed? Why did Leira matter now? Nymre had never been able to read minds, but she felt it – a woman’s intuition – this one wasn’t just another toy for Lorian to use and discard.
She was close to him. Perhaps she even loved him.
But how?
How, in the name of the gods, had it come to this? How could a mere human become… so much?
Nymre knew what Lorian admired in women: strength. He’d bedded many lovers, had many playthings, but none had ever held his heart. He had always sought an equal.
For a long time, Nymre had been that to him.
But now… he had found an equal in a human.
And that was almost frightening.
Uncanny.
Nymre’s stare drilled into Leira, seeking cracks in her composure – but Leira remained still, unmoved. No fear. The silence stretched until Nymre decided it had lasted long enough. She hadn’t summoned her just to look at her.
“Leira Askel,” she mused, tilting her head in a motion sharp and birdlike. “You’ve been a thorn in my wing for far too long. I wanted to remove you, but that alone would not be enough.”
Leira didn’t flinch. Her arms were loose at her sides, her posture humble yet relaxed.
“I could kill you, as I have so many others before you. But… I realized that wouldn’t be the end. He didn’t bring you to his bed to use you. He brought you there because he respects you. And somehow, that… surprises me. So much so, I find myself intrigued.”
Slowly, Leira raised her gaze. Her eyes – clear blue, like fresh pond water – held something difficult to name. A quiet defiance. Stubbornness. Emotion too complex to read at a glance. She was more than expected. That didn’t scare Nymre – if it ever did. No, she was in full control. And before she could accept this woman’s presence… she wanted to understand her.
“I am honored, my Lady,” Leira said quietly.
Nymre laughed, a true, unrestrained laugh. That, she had expected from a lesser being. But somehow, it still didn’t sound true.
“You serve my lover. He gave you that status, elevated you. Even granted you immortality, something he almost never does for your kind. And yet, in doing so, he took your life from you. Destroyed your past. Tell me, Leira Askel – what do you really think of Lorian Ain’Dal?”
That struck a chord.
A flicker of something behind Leira’s face, sudden, raw. Nymre almost laughed again. Was that storm inside her because of the question? Or because her feelings for Lorian were so deep and untamed?
“He is my Lord.”
“Of course. And you serve him,” Nymre said, shaking her head in amused disbelief. “I’ve heard that from you before. But no, Leira Askel – I don’t want your masks. I want to see the woman who won my lover’s heart. Every trait that made him fall for you. I want honesty. Show me what he saw in you.”
And Leira smiled.
She smiled.
And with that smile came the shadows – darkness embracing her soul.
It could have been a charming expression, almost innocent. But something lived behind it, something unseen, lurking. Her eyes now locked onto Nymre’s, her face glowing not with light, but with…
Something else.
It boiled inside Leira. Literally.
Nymre might have laughed again, if not for her own foolishness. How could she be so blind? She was a reader of emotions, a seer of the strongest auras. And yet her gift had misled her, completely. Leira was human, and humans lacked fae auras… and still, Nymre felt something. Shadows clung to her. And through those shadows, borrowed power surged.
She felt it.
Darkness.
This woman wasn’t just strong – she hadn’t merely survived torment and humiliation. She was one of them. She had a cruel heart and a shadowed soul. Her spirit was more fae than human, and Lorian had always been drawn to those like him – strong, dark, untamed. A woman like that would be irresistible to him. In the end, it didn’t matter whether she was fae or human. She was more. Beautiful on the inside, at least to him.
Leira had survived Dal’coler and the cruelty woven into this place. She likely had a spine of iron – something that would shatter a fairy, yet only strengthened a human.
And Lorian… he had remade her. Given her wings. Destroyed her, and through that destruction, showed her the power buried within. His craft was brutal, but to him, it was art. He had drowned in her, like in blood.
And Leira – no doubt – had loved the blood she bled for him.
But Nymre knew it wouldn’t last. Lorian loved fiercely, but even he must understand: they would never fit. She was a lesser being, and that truth would surface, sooner or later. She could never fill his life as Nymre had, over hundreds of years. That was how their kind worked. They could indulge in desire, deceive themselves with the illusion of attachment, but it never lasted.
Humans were prey. Fae were predators.
A lamb doesn’t marry a wolf.
Leira was looking at her now, bold defiance burning in her eyes. Attractive. Strong. Lorian was not easily impressed. For him to care for her, she must possess more than just spirit.
But that didn’t matter now.
Nymre rose with perfect grace, her movements fluid, effortless – a touch of nonchalance, like a breeze dancing over the sea. Her gossamer magic shimmered faintly around her as she approached Leira. Foolish girl. Perhaps she thought she understood Lorian, believing she knew what he truly wanted. But it was all smoke and mirrors. No human could truly grasp the mind of an Unseelie fae. Perhaps she’d found a crack in his armor, a flicker of light in his eternal night – ut it was only a mirage. Their species were simply too different. It was nearly impossible.
Lorian claimed he didn’t play with Leira… but Lorian was in pain. And pain often seeks boldness and heat. Understanding, however? That was beyond her reach.
Leira didn’t step back.
That, Nymre admitted, surprised her. She stood only millimeters away now, their auras brushing – hers dancing in Leira’s hair like waves stirred by an unseen tide.
“You think you understand your situation, child,” Nymre said, smiling with unsettling beauty. She met Leira’s gaze, so stubborn, so exquisitely defiant. “Maybe he needs you now. But don’t mistake that for belonging. I won’t let you believe you can have him. You are young and naive – like a young fae stepping into Dal’coler for the first time. You’ve lived a few short years and think you know the rules that own this world. But you know nothing, my dear.”
Leira’s smile was a revelation. There was no fear in it. No doubt.
Something unreadable hid behind that smile.
She welcomed the challenge.
“I know the rules that brought me here, my Lady,” she said, meeting Nymre’s eyes without hesitation. Her heart beat slowly and steady – a heart she had already given to Lorian.
Nymre laughed.
“Your feelings are obvious. You do care for him. How that’s possible, I do not know. But one thing is even more clear: you believe he’ll put you first. That he’ll elevate you even further. Admire you. But you’re still just a child, and he needs a woman. You are brave, clever, and strong… but that doesn’t change what you are. A human creature – no blue blood runs in your veins.”
In a swift, graceful motion, Nymre caught Leira’s chin, her talons pressing into her skin. Leira made no sound. Her eyes remained calm, burning with quiet fury.
“You’ll understand, in time,” Nymre murmured, her voice honeyed, dripping over Leira’s soul. “And I’ll be there to watch, with delight.”
Yes, she was something to behold. No hatred. No fear. Perhaps Leira was the finest human Lorian had ever brought to his bed. As much as Nymre disliked her, she could see it – in the power of her borrowed aura, in the storm of her emotions.
But still, in the end… she was just a human.
And that would always stand between them.