Chapter Eleven
Meg sat on the bed across from Cian. He was sitting with his long legs crossed over each other. His big gray eyes were watching her intently. He looked so much like Beck that her heart hurt. She wanted to lean over and kiss him. She wanted to promise him everything would be okay, but she held her ground. She didn’t need to fall in love with a second version of him. One was all the heartbreak she could take.
“Cian, I need you to concentrate.” Meg crossed her legs and tried to relax. She sat in front of him on the big bed they had shared the night before. Taking his hand in hers, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. “Do you remember why we’re here?”
His lips curled into a tempting curve. He was shirtless and wore nothing except a pair of white linen pants. His long, black hair fell well past his shoulders. It shone in the afternoon light. “I think I can guess. Do you want to be on top?”
Meg shook her head and stayed patient. “We’re not having sex, Cian. We’re bonding. I’m your bondmate. Beck sent me to you. We need to bond so you can think straight.”
That seemed to get through to him. His eyes cleared for a moment, and his hands tightened on hers. “You’re my wife?”
Meg knew her face was slightly sad as she responded. “So I’ve been told. It’s okay, Cian. I won’t hold you to it. We just need to bond, and then we can be friends.”
He shook his head vigorously. “No. Too far gone. Hurt you.”
“It will be fine, Cian,” Meg assured him. She wasn’t sure, but she tried to instill a sense of calm resolve in her voice.
His gorgeous eyes filled with frustration. He was trying to make her understand and couldn’t seem to form the words. “Please, go. No hurt.”
Meg moved closer so their legs were touching. “It won’t hurt me, Cian. It’s going to be all right. Do you remember how to do this?”
His face cleared like a cloud had passed over and now the sun was shining. He smiled again. “Cad è mar atà tu?”
Oh, crap. He’s gone into Gaelic and now I can’t even understand his delusions. She tightened her hands around his. She was going to have to make the connection on her own. She leaned forward, and luckily, Cian seemed game. He leaned forward, meeting her in the middle. She touched her forehead to his.
“Is tù mo ghrà,” he said, his accent lilting around the traditional Gaelic that went with the ceremony. Her bonding with Beck had been devoid of any of the ceremonies that went along with bonding, but Cian seemed to remember. “You are my love,” he had said. She remembered it from the DLs. Meg tried to tell herself it was just words.
He pulled back and looked down at her as though waiting.
“Is tù mo ghrà,” she repeated.
If Cian wanted all the trappings, then she would give it to him. If he really was the other half of Beck, then she feared she meant those words.
He smiled, satisfied, and put his head to her forehead once more. He rubbed his head lightly against hers as though he loved the connection.
If they had been on the twins’ home plane, there would have been a great deal of pomp and circumstance involved in the ceremony. There would have been witnesses and a decorated altar. The downloads she had read on the subject talked about the beauty of the ceremony. There would have been flowers—marigolds, St. John’s wort, and shamrocks. There would have been a length of ornate rope to bind their hands together for the handfasting ritual.
The twins’ father would have overseen the marriage, and bells would have been rung throughout the city to let the people know the heirs had been bonded. Music would flow out of the palace all night long.
The little cottage was quiet. There were no flowers, but Meg felt the weight of what she was doing all the same. She was binding her life to this man. It wasn’t something she could walk away from, though. Liadan had advised her to run, but how could she? She could no more walk away from Cian than she would be able to watch a person drown and do nothing to save him.
It was more than that. She could never abandon half of Beck to fate. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t love her. She loved him. That was all she could control. She firmly intended to fall out of love, but she couldn’t let his brother die.
Then she stopped thinking, or rather she ceased thinking, her own thoughts. Cian’s brain assaulted her.
She was flooded with memory and thoughts, dreams and fancy, and everything that was Cian. Now Meg understood what the blonde had been trying to tell her. She was overwhelmed with him. Sights, sounds, even smells and emotions battered her system. She felt her body sag under the onslaught, but Cian’s strong hands held her in place.
She saw a young girl. She was chasing her through a gleaming white palace. She was his sister. Bronwyn. The name was as clear in Meg’s mind as the image was. In the vision, she was Cian, and she was a seven-year-old boy, full of mischief. Bronwyn had been a brat. She had tossed a mud pie straight in his face, and he was going to get retribution. Meg could feel the cool marble under his bare feet. The palace was filled with light. Cian wasn’t really mad. He was just playing a game. In Cian’s body, Meg ran past Beck. He was coming out of a room with his father. Beck looked so serious. He was somber, but she could feel him. She could feel how much he wanted to join his twin and their sister. Beck wanted to play, but he simply nodded at his twin and followed their father.
Math. She was hit full-force with a load of equations she grasped for a moment, and then they were gone. Cian’s head was filled with math and science and theories on everything. He was so smart. His mind worked a thousand miles a minute. Meg couldn’t process it all. Her brain hurt. Poems and stories and articles on anthropology and engineering written in several different languages flew in and out of her head.
She felt a pounding pressure begin.
And the women…so many women. He loved sex. He craved it. He needed it to feel whole and complete. He got lost in his mind sometimes, but his body always insisted on having its fair share of time. There were blondes, brunettes, and girls with hair the color of the sunset. He was affectionate toward them all. He liked them one or two at a time, and he loved it when he shared a female with his other half. Cian liked to hold a lover in his arms while Beck fucked her. It had been so long since they shared a truly intimate experience. Beck had become so rigid in his sexuality. He hadn’t stopped sharing women with his brother. He had done something worse. He had stopped sharing himself with anyone. Beck had closed off entire sections of their being, and Cian felt the loss.
Meg felt her pulse pound as she was flooded with memories of Cian’s lovers. She had a brief vision of a beautiful blonde with her hand possessively on Beck’s arm. They walked into a brilliantly lit ballroom, and everyone cheered. Cian was left out. It was the night of his formal engagement, but he didn’t want to be there. He couldn’t stand the woman. Cian was sure she felt the same way about him. He was in the way, and he knew it. Beck was resplendent in his formal court attire, but his face was pinched with duty. Beck didn’t love her, either. How were they going to get out of this? Meg was swamped with Cian’s panic as he realized he was trapped.
Meg heard herself moan as the siege continued. Her hands tightened on Cian’s arms. She held on for dear life. Tears squeezed out of her eyes as she became sure her skull was going to split. She hoped it did. It would relieve the overwhelming pressure.
No, she felt Cian protest deep in her soul as the scene in her brain changed. He didn’t want to remember, but it was coming, anyway. It was far too strong to be denied.
Smoke was everywhere. Meg lifted her head and put a hand to her ears. It was so loud. She was in the middle of a battle. There was fire, heat, and the sound of metal on metal. She looked down. A teenage girl was lying in her lap. She looked up with soft brown eyes. They were filled with tears.
“Mama?” the girl asked. She wasn’t confused, Meg realized. She was asking a question.
“She’s gone, Bron.” Meg heard Cian’s voice speaking, saw through his eyes, was assailed with his memories. His voice was filled with sorrow. His mother was dead. He’d seen her die at the end of a soldier’s blade. He hadn’t been able to get to her. “Father’s gone, too.”
Bronwyn held her stomach. She was bleeding profusely. Cian knew it was only a matter of time. They were trapped. There was fire at their back and an army behind the only doorway out. He held his sister close to his heart. Beck was still fighting, but he was shielding it from his brother. Cian would have known if his twin was dead. He wondered if Beck would die when he did. Would Beck feel it when the soldiers outside burst in and shoved cold iron through his gut?
Cian’s hands shook, but he didn’t let his sister see how scared he was. He needed to be strong for her. There was a knife at his side. He wasn’t a warrior, but he would use it to defend her. He had killed a man with it already. The soldier who had stabbed Bronwyn hadn’t been content with taking her life. He had to try to rape her as well. Now his corpse was cooling not ten feet away. Cian tried not to think of him. He focused his being on the sister he was losing.
“Love you, brother.” Her smile reminded him of the five-year-old girl who had followed him around like a puppy.
“I love you, too,” he choked the words out. Meg felt wetness on her face and realized Cian was crying.
Bronwyn’s eyes went dull just as the door exploded inward. Cian looked up, clutching his sister. He was ready to join her.
Beck stood in the doorway, covered in blood. He held a bloody sword in his hand.
“We have to go,” he said with dark eyes.
Then the images came rapidly. The gun that was Cian’s brain suddenly went into machine gun mode. She couldn’t keep up. She was in a forest running from soldiers who had been sworn to hunt the twins down and execute them. She ran from plane to plane. Then she was building this cottage with Cian’s hands. Refugees were everywhere. There was not enough food to feed them, and they looked to Cian and Beck.
A smoke-filled image invaded Meg’s brain. Liadan stood by the bed, whispering to Cian. He tried to get up, but the smoke was too much. It was time to fade.
It was too much. It was too fast. Meg felt the moment her brain shorted out. She barely made a sound as she slipped into a blissful darkness.
* * * *
Cian Finn came to on the bed of the cottage he had built. He was disoriented. It seemed to be morning, or maybe afternoon. He shook his head. It was afternoon, he decided as he studied the shadows on the walls.
He felt magnificent. His head was clear. How long had he been like that? It had been a nightmare of chaos. The clarity in his brain was bliss after the long pandemonium he had been living in.
Cian sat straight up in bed. Meg. She had bonded with him. It was very difficult for him to sort through everything that had happened in the last few years. He was certain now it had been years since he began the long slide into chaos. He might never get those years back, but he remembered Meg. Meg was the one clear thought in his head.
She was his wife.
Cian felt a moment of pure panic when he saw her lying so still on the bed. Her legs were underneath her at an odd angle. For a moment, he was sure he had killed her, and he knew his life would be over, just as he had gotten it back. Then her chest rose slightly. She was alive. She had survived the onslaught that bonding with him would have caused.
Gently, Cian opened the bond between them. It was new, but Cian was impressed with the strength of it. Her mind was tired, but functioning. She was in a deep, dreamless sleep. Her brain needed respite.
He leaned down and pulled her legs into a more comfortable position. She sighed and rolled toward his warmth as though she knew he would protect her. Cian grinned as she cuddled closer to him.
If he hadn’t just put her through hell, he would consummate his marriage in the physical sense. He would roll her onto her back and get between those pretty thighs of hers. He would ride her until they both passed out from the exertion. She was his. He had seen down to her soul. He knew she was perfect for them.
As she had gone through many of the important events of his life, he had gone through hers. He kissed the top of her head and inhaled her sweet smell. So many people had disappointed her. How could they not have seen how wonderful she was? Sure she was quiet, but her mind was quick, and she had the most delicious sense of humor. She was sassy and independent. Her sensuality had been completely untapped and unappreciated by the men in her life. Cian wouldn’t make the same mistake. He was considered to be the smartest man of his generation. He had no intention of proving dumb when it came to his wife. She was an amazing gift.
Cian’s hands clenched as he thought about the last little scene that had played out in his head. He was going to kick his brother’s ass when he returned. He was an idiot, that other half of him. Beck had made Meg feel worse than that worthless ex-husband of hers.
She was exhausted. Her entire body was relaxed as she slept so trustingly in his arms. Cian would make her see how beautiful she was. He would have to be careful, though. His brother had dug them a deep hole. Beck had taken her body, but had refused to share his soul with her. It was selfish, and Cian intended to have a long talk with him about it. She was their responsibility. They had to fulfill all of her needs, and Beck would have to see that her needs were different than the women they had grown up with. Meg wouldn’t want to be a perfect little princess on a shiny throne. She needed to work. She needed to contribute. She needed to be valued for all the things that made her unique.
“T à mo chroì istigh ionat,” he whispered. My heart is within you…
He was just about to kiss his sleeping princess when he heard a knock at the door. Curious, Cian gently rolled away from his wife. He reached for a shirt and walked to the front of the house.
A small brown woman was gingerly opening the door. She was dressed simply in a dark, threadbare skirt and linen shirt, with a colorful shawl around her thin shoulders. Her big feet were bare. Her head was a mass of scraggly, wiry hair and her own thick skin. Her eyes were huge in her small face and black as a moonless night. She was beautiful to him. Flanna was a brownie. The brownies had been domestic help on his home plane.
“Beckett.” She squinted, turning her elderly eyes up at him. He immediately got to one knee so she could inspect him. She had been his nanny throughout his childhood. It hadn’t taken him long to get taller than the brownie who took care of him, but he always showed her proper respect. His throat closed up at the thought that he hadn’t really seen her for years. She walked up to him with a smile that showed her gaping teeth. “I am glad you changed your mind, son. It’s a mistake to leave your wife alone right now.”
“She isn’t alone, Flanna,” Cian said, emotion welling in his heart. “She has me.”
Flanna’s jaw dropped, and she looked at him with wonder. “Cian?”
“Yes, little mother,” Cian said. “I assure you, it’s me. How long was I gone?”
Huge tears welled in her black eyes. “Years, Cian,” she confirmed as she drew him into her motherly embrace. “I thought you would die soon.”
“I did, too.” He hugged her gently, taking great care with her fragile body. “I am so sorry, little mother. I got lost.”
Tears coursed over her cheeks. “Where is she? Where is the Queen?”
Cian smiled broadly and wondered if anyone had even mentioned that part to Meg yet. He doubted she knew she had become the true Queen of the Seelie Fae. “She’s asleep. The bonding was hard on her. From what I can tell, everything’s been hard on my Meg, including Beck. You should know, little mother, I intend to thrash him soundly when he returns.”
Her foot started tapping. “That will be the day, Cian. I think you’ve forgotten which twin you are if you think to fight your brother.”
Cian let his face split into a slightly shady grin. “Well, I didn’t intend to inform him of my plans to beat him. I assure you, I can have him unconscious and tied up in no time at all. He always underestimates me.”
Flanna gave him “the stare.” It was the one that let Cian know he was in trouble. “Now is not the time to be feuding with your brother.”
Cian frowned. “You don’t know how he treated her. He’s been selfish and rude. He formed a bond with her, but from what I can tell, he didn’t actually offer himself. He surely didn’t open to her. She was shocked by the full bond. She hadn’t felt it before.”
Cian got to his feet, a new purpose humming through his brain. He’d hidden something, and now he hoped it had survived the years.
Flanna followed him into the kitchen. “Don’t be so hard on your brother. He’s only done what he had to do to survive. Your father was very hard on him.”
“And he has a lot of responsibility, blah, blah, blah,” Cian said with a frown. He studied the drawers in the hutch. He had built it with his own hands, and he had put a hidey-hole in it. “You think I haven’t heard this all my life, little mother? ‘Allowances must be made for the warrior king.’ All I had to do was think and learn, but Beck had to fight. Father was particularly hard on Beck, so we should let him be a cold bastard? I won’t let him ruin my relationship with our wife. She’s everything I could want in a woman. If he’s too stupid to see that, then he’s welcome to keep to the Liadans of this plane.”
There was something about Liadan. There was something about the blonde woman his brother had taken as his mistress that nagged at the back of his brain. He couldn’t quite grasp it. It didn’t matter. He needed to worry about Meg now. Cian pulled the left drawer out and carefully pushed his hand inside. He felt for the trap door at the back. It sprang free, and Cian felt his treasure.
“You can’t kick your brother out of your marital bed,” Flanna was insisting. “You know that the three of you will never form a triad if you don’t open yourselves to each other.”
Cian pulled his hand free and opened the small bag he had retrieved. “The triad is a myth. I’m not going to develop mystical powers from sleeping with my wife. I feel wonderful, I do, and I’m definitely looking forward to consummating my marriage. I promise I’ll work my hardest to ensure you have some babies to take care of next year, but I won’t become a Green Man, and Beck won’t be a Storm Lord.”
“Just because you don’t have faith doesn’t mean others don’t,” Flanna said with a superior look in her eyes. “Tell me something, Your Highness, what does this mean for the rest of us?”
Cian pulled out a small gold ring. There was a sun on the signet. It was the symbol of the Queen. Bronwyn had pressed it into his hand as she lay dying. His sister had died trying to retrieve the ring from their mother’s rooms. It was all he had left of their mother, and now it belonged to the rightful Queen, his wife. “It means we have some decisions to make. I’m sure even now our aunt is trying to convince her daughter to start funneling money our way. We’ll need it if we’re going to bribe the Unseelie to back us.”
Cian didn’t want to talk politics. He had more important things to do. He turned the bag over. The rest of the contents tumbled to the table, making a delightful clinking sound. He did a quick count and was well-pleased. Flanna reached out and slapped his hands.
“You’ve been keeping money from your brother,” she accused.
Cian shrugged. There was no point in denying it. “He would have spent it on something boring, like food. This was my drinking stash. Now, it’s my get-my-wife-dressed-properly stash. Do you think you can come up with something nice for this?”
Flanna seemed placated that he was using the cash on Meg instead of at the tavern. “I happen to know that the dressmaker in the village is almost done with a beautiful gown for Liadan. I believe she was planning on wearing it to Beltain. It would have to be shortened from what I understand, but I’m sure she would alter it for her queen.”
Cian smiled. If it pissed off Liadan, then so much the better. “Excellent. I’ll take it. Tell the seamstress to let out the bodice as well. My Meg’s got a lovely set of breasts on her. And Flanna, we should prepare the village for the influx of Fae coming to pay their respects to my Queen.”
“But, Ci, Beck told me to keep her presence here quiet.”
Cian’s eyes narrowed as he formed a plan. “Beck wouldn’t be able to contain the rumors. He either bought her or he fought for her.”
“It was an open tourney,” Flanna confirmed.
“Then the vampires know about it, too. They’ll think there’s something wrong with her. They’ll think that the king is ashamed he had to take a human wife if he doesn’t demand proper respect be paid.”
“That isn’t why he’s keeping it quiet,” Flanna corrected him. “Beck is worried about your uncle’s agents. The pretender closed Tir na nÒg because he’s worried Beck will steal onto the plane and assassinate him. He has been waiting for the two of you to fade. After you’re gone, he’ll be able to open the homelands and reestablish trade and contact. You can’t think Torin wants the borders closed. He’ll be furious when he discovers you’ve married. The queen is now a target.”
Cian shook his head. “She’ll be a target no matter what. I’m sure Torin knows about her even now. I have no illusions on that. He has his spies as we have ours. It doesn’t change the fact that she will have a hard time being taken seriously if we don’t treat her that way. The people will accept my queen, or I’ll cease being their king. Well, I’ll cease being half their king, anyway.”
Flanna patted his hand, seemingly giving up the fight. “I will go and get things started. The village will feast tonight, my son.”
“Yes.” Cian looked at his mother’s ring with satisfaction. “We will feast and dance and drink.” And then he would set about seducing his lovely, brave bride.