Chapter 51 Chapter Fifty-One
Kaelani stepped into the dining room—a more intimate space than the grand hall, though no less striking. The arched ceiling was framed by carved oak beams, and wall sconces glowed with a warm, flickering light, complimenting the stunning chandelier that hung just overhead.
A long table stretched between two thronelike chairs at either end, their high backs carved from dark wood and upholstered in deep plum velvet. They looked regal, but surprisingly comfortable—clearly designed for both power and poise.
Soraya dipped into a deep bow, her arm sweeping elegantly across her middle as she addressed Lord Draevyn, who sat at the far end with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“My lord, she refused the dresses.”
Kaelani didn’t wait to be told where to sit. She crossed to the opposite end of the table and took her place—still dressed in her wrinkled gray jumpsuit from the mortal world.
Her gaze flicked toward Draevyn—he was watching her already, silver eyes unreadable.
“Were they not to your liking?” he asked, voice smooth as poured velvet.
Kaelani straightened in her seat. “It’s not that,” she said quickly. “They were lovely. Truly. And Soraya was very kind. I just didn’t think… it seemed strange to wear something so formal just to eat breakfast.”
Draevyn’s gaze lingered on her jumpsuit for a moment longer before he spoke again, his voice measured.
“I can have garments made that better suit your taste,” he said. “Something less… ceremonial.”
Kaelani didn’t respond. Her mind drifted elsewhere as her fingers toyed with the edge of her sleeve.
“Nymera…” Her voice faltered. “Is she…?”
Draevyn reached for a piece of golden, flaked bread—slightly sweet and layered like pastry—and tore it in half with elegant precision. He took a bite before answering, his tone devoid of sentiment.
“She is no longer with us.”
The words landed like ice down Kaelani’s spine. Her throat tightened as an ache bloomed behind her ribs.
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “I lost control. I—I didn’t want to hurt anyone…”
Draevyn set the remaining piece of bread down, wiping his fingers on a dark cloth napkin. When he spoke, his voice was cool but not entirely lacking emotion.
“Nymera’s fate was not undeserved. She was not a good woman, Kaelani. She was warned—by the seers themselves—that her envy would rot her from within, that her wickedness would lead her to her own demise.”
His silver gaze locked with hers. “You may have been the weapon, Kaelani. But she carved the path to her own end.”
Kaelani sat in silence for a long moment, her thoughts tangled in Draevyn’s chilling words.
Not undeserved.
That didn’t offer comfort—didn’t ease the tight coil of guilt sitting heavy in her chest. She had killed someone. The woman who birthed her. Cruel and deplorable as Nymera had been, she didn’t deserve death… not like that. No—she should’ve rotted in that cell, haunted by the choices she made. Not gone in a flash of light.
Trying to still the tremor in her hands, Kaelani reached for a delicate silver vessel near her place setting—something that vaguely resembled a carafe. She poured the dark liquid into the empty cup before her, praying to any god that would listen that it was coffee and not some strange herbal concoction.
The aroma hit instantly—rich, bold, familiar.
Kaelani’s shoulders eased as she sighed in relief. “Thank the stars,” she muttered, pouring a splash of cream and dropping in two pale cubes of what looked like sugar. She stirred, then glanced up.
“With all due respect,” she said carefully, “if I’m not a prisoner here… then I’d like to return home.”
Draevyn didn’t flinch. He reached for another piece of his breakfast—something that looked vaguely like charred fruit over a bed of spiced grain—and offered a faint smile.
“Of course you’re not a prisoner,” he said reassuringly. “You may return home whenever you like.”
Kaelani offered a polite smile in return, lifting her cup and taking her first sip.
It was heaven.
She let out a quiet, involuntary moan, eyes fluttering shut. “Is everything better here?” she murmured to no one in particular.
When she opened her eyes again, Draevyn was watching her with the barest hint of amusement.
“Thank you,” she said, setting the cup down gently. “After breakfast, if someone could just show me the way, I’ll be out of your hair.”
Draevyn leaned back, sipping from his own cup. “You teleported here on your own,” he said. “All you have to do is return the way you arrived.”
Kaelani’s heart sank into her stomach.
The lightness she’d just found in the warmth of coffee dissolved instantly as the reality of Draevyn’s words settled in her chest.
“I… don’t know how I got here,” she admitted quietly, setting the cup down. “I didn’t even know I could teleport. My powers just—appeared. I don’t know how to use them.”
Draevyn’s gaze slid down the length of her jumpsuit again.
“Judging by the… charming ensemble, I’d say wherever you came from, you were the prisoner.”
Kaelani tensed.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowed but not unkind. “What drove you to retreat into the Fae realm? Were you running from someone? And if so… will you be forced to keep running when you return?”
Kaelani hesitated, her fingers curling around the cup once more, not for warmth—but for something to anchor her.
“I was running from the Lycan Council,” she said, voice low. “They planned to send me back to a place that was a living hell for me. And when my powers surfaced… they were afraid. I saw it in their eyes. They didn’t understand what I was. So they tried to lock me away.”
Draevyn’s expression darkened, his mouth twisting with something between disdain and disbelief. “So you want to return… and become their little lab rat?”
“No!” Kaelani said sharply, then softened. “Of course not. But I have a life back there. A business. People who care about me… people who will want to know I’m okay.”
Her voice faltered again.
Her thoughts wandered to Tessa—her laughter, her fierce loyalty. And then, unbidden… to Julian.
The silence stretched between them, thick and weighty, until Draevyn finally spoke.
“There are ways I can show you,” he said, voice low, “to communicate with others—through the mind. You can enter theirs… or draw them into yours.”
Kaelani blinked. “Dream-walking?”
His brow arched slightly, intrigued. “You’re familiar?”
She hesitated. “I’ve done it… a few times. Not on purpose.”
Her gaze dropped to the table, but her mind had already slipped away. Back to those nights—those dreams that didn’t feel like dreams at all. Julian’s hands—possessive and trembling—gripping her thighs. His mouth trailing down her skin, his voice hoarse as he whispered her name. The way their bodies moved in rhythm, desperate and unrestrained, until the world around them fractured into stars. Heat flushed her chest at the memory of his teeth grazing her nipples, his breath ragged against her neck as he gave in to the instinct and marked her again.
The pleasure had been overwhelming. But worse—so had the connection.
She felt it even now, like an old scar itching beneath the surface. Her wolf stirred inside her, rising in a low, aching whimper. Mine, the creature whispered, pining for what they’d left behind—prowling restlessly inside, claws raking at her chest.
Kaelani swallowed hard and blinked, willing herself back into the present. She shoved the memory away like it meant nothing—like it hadn’t just unraveled her all over again.
But Draevyn was watching her intently, elbows resting on the table, his expression unreadable. The silence between them grew taut and uncomfortable.
Then, softly, Draevyn leaned forward. “Let me help you unlock your true potential,” he said. “You are a powerful Fae, Kaelani. Destined for greatness. I can teach you to master your gifts. And the next time you return to your realm… or any realm…” His silver eyes glinted. “You’ll be untouchable.”
Kaelani thought carefully about his offer, weighing it from every angle.
She was going to need to master teleportation eventually—there was no getting around that if she ever wanted to return home. But beyond that… why not learn everything she could? This was who she was. Her powers. This realm. These people. All of it was part of her identity—one she’d only just begun to uncover. She would be a fool to turn away now.
At last, she lifted her gaze to meet Draevyn’s. “I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said. “But I want to start with dream-walking.”
A flicker of something like satisfaction crossed his face. “Very well,” he agreed. “I’m pleased that you’re willing to stay and learn.”
He gave a subtle nod to Soraya, who had remained in the corner so still and silent, Kaelani had nearly forgotten she was there. Without a word, Soraya slipped out of the room.
Draevyn turned back to her. “Before we begin, I want you to meet the seers. But be warned… their appearance can be alarming to those unfamiliar. I’d rather you be prepared.”
Kaelani gave a cautious nod, then reached for one of the pastries that had been sitting beside the coffee. She took a bite—and her eyes widened, nearly rolling back in bliss. The flavor was unreal.
“What is this made of?” she asked around another bite. “Slices of actual heaven?”
Draevyn laughed, the sound low and genuinely amused. “I’m glad you’re enjoying our food. If there’s anything else you’d like—any request at all—you need only ask.”
“That’s very kind,” Kaelani replied.
She had just taken another bite of the pastry when the doors creaked open, and a low breeze whispered in from the hallway beyond, stirring the flames of the sconces.
Soraya stepped back into the chamber, her voice refined as she bowed her head slightly.
“They’ve arrived, My Lord.”
Kaelani rose slowly, uncertain of what to expect—until she saw them.
Three figures glided into the room, cloaked in layers of ash-colored silk and tattered lace that shimmered like starlight in motion. They moved without sound, as if their feet never truly touched the ground. Their hair—white as bone and cascading in tangled waves—hung down past their waists, adorned with braids, beads, and bits of silver. Their skin was pale, almost translucent, stretched thin over high cheekbones and sharp, angular features. Fingers like willow branches—long, gnarled, and bony—folded and unfurled with deliberate grace.
They looked like death dressed in elegance. Ancient. Ethereal. Not alive in the way Kaelani knew life—but something far older… and wiser.
She flinched as they moved in unison toward her.
One of them reached out and touched her face with a skeletal hand, cool and weightless. Another inhaled deeply, as if breathing her in. The third knelt and ran her fingers along Kaelani’s palm, tracing the faint glow that pulsed beneath her skin.
“The power inside you,” the kneeling seer murmured, voice brittle as parchment, “it has no end.”
Kaelani took a sharp step back. “What are you doing—?”
“How long we have waited,” another crooned, eyes like storm clouds locked onto hers. “How many seasons have passed… how many threads unraveled… until you.”
Kaelani swallowed hard, her breath shallow. “Until me?”
They spoke in harmony now, voices woven like wind through trees:
“Yes.
You are the Queen of Shadows.
The one whispered in root and stone.
The soul that balances what was broken.
The fire that will not be extinguished.”
Kaelani’s stomach dropped.
“I’m not a queen,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask for that.”
“You did not need to ask,” the eldest said softly, lifting her milky eyes to Kaelani’s. “You were chosen. By blood. By time. By fate itself.”
Kaelani’s lips parted to protest—but no sound came. The weight of their presence, their certainty, settled over her like a shroud.
She didn’t believe in destiny.
But something about the way they looked at her…
As if they already knew the ending…
Frightened her more than anything ever had.