CHAPTER 23
Shaia paced the banks of the river, the soil soft beneath her boots and the gentle sound of running water soothing her. Her heart thumped at a fast pace against her ribs, refusing to settle. She gazed at her footprints as they merged together, marking the passing of time and revealing how long she had been waiting. She clenched and unfurled her fingers, shook them in an effort to expel her nerves, and turned, walking back the other way.
She lifted her head, glancing at the water that flowed around the bend in the stream and glittered in the light from the portal. It wetted the rocks on the other side, where a cliff rose high to shelter this small part of the elf kingdom.
Was he not coming?
He was coming. She was sure of it. He hadn’t missed one of their meetings yet. She had time and could wait for him. Her family thought she was visiting one of her friends and didn’t expect her back for hours yet.
Perhaps she had the wrong place?
She shook her head at that. She had followed his instructions to the letter, and this place, with the cliff on one side and a thick forest on the other, matched his description of the one where he had asked her to meet him this time.
Maybe he had been detained.
“Sorry I am late.”
Shaia gasped and turned, her heart lodging in her throat and trembling there. A warm, teasing smile tugged at his firm lips and sparkled in his amethyst eyes, causing the flecks of lilac in them to brighten.
“Lost in thoughts of me?” he husked, a wicked and tempting note in his voice that had her quivering and caused heat to ignite inside her.
It spread as she looked him over, taking in his crisp black tunic and matching trousers, and his perfectly polished riding boots. The uniform hugged his lithe figure, leaving little to her imagination.
Her imagination still did a very fine job of picturing him as he had been that day years ago by the stream when he had come to her shirtless and fresh from sparring.
His eyes darkened, his pupils devouring the violet as he stared at her, and she stretched with her senses, pinning them on him. Desire. She could feel it beating inside him just as it beat inside her, pounding in her veins, filling her mind with images of them entwined in an intimate fashion.
Her body tingled, the heat pooling lower, at the apex of her thighs, as she recalled the way his hand had felt against her flesh, how he had given her pleasure that had left her shaking, her strength stripped from her.
“Shaia,” he croaked and a pleading look flitted across his handsome sculpted face as his black eyebrows pinched. “You’re killing me.”
She tamped down her wicked thoughts, brought her body back under control and breathed through it to expel her need, not wanting to torment him when they had made a promise to wait until he was in a position to speak with her parents before they did anything intimate again.
It was sheer torture.
He had awoken something in her and she couldn’t put it back to sleep. Whenever she was in his presence, her body came alive, need spiralling through her that robbed her of her breath and had her trembling for him, aching to have his hands on her again.
A pained growl left his lips, his face twisting in agony, and he paced away from her. He stopped a few metres away, his back to her, and remained there for long minutes that felt like hours as he wrestled with himself and she fought her desire, struggling to bring it back under control so she could be with him.
She didn’t want him to leave.
He had done so once, the need to touch her becoming too much for him.
When he finally turned back to face her, he was calm again, no trace of desire in his eyes. She held hers back, reminding herself that it was best they waited, even if waiting was killing her.
He went to a large smooth flat rock that was half on the bank and half in the river, stripped off his boots, rolled up his trousers, and sat on it with his feet in the water. He stared down at them, watching the clear water rushing over them, and then looked over his shoulder at her and held his hand out to her.
She went to him, peered at his feet and up at the sky, and made a decision. It wasn’t ladylike of her, and her family would be horrified if they saw her, but she didn’t care. It was hot today, the air humid, and though she had chosen her lightest summer dress, a pale lilac one that fitted well enough that she could forgo a corset, she needed to cool down.
She unlaced her boots, placed them beside his on the dirt, and then stepped onto the rock. It was warm beneath her soles, but cooled as she neared the river and Fuery.
He looked up at her and offered his hand. She slipped hers into it and allowed him to help her as she neared the edge of the rock and sat down, taking care not to slip on the damp stone. When she was settled, he released her, and she sighed as she hitched her dress up a little and sank her feet into the water.
“Gods,” she whispered as she instantly cooled and flames licked at her cheeks as her eyes widened and leaped to Fuery.
He didn’t seem to care that she had cursed, or that it was very unladylike of her. His eyes remained locked on her hands. Not her hands. He was staring at her legs.
“It’ll break soon,” he muttered, his voice distant, as if he wasn’t quite with her. “It’s almost harvest time.”
“Harvest time?” She frowned at that. There were a lot of different harvests, so which one was he speaking of? Which one did he know about, and intimately by the way he suddenly blinked and looked at her, a flicker of shock in his eyes and something else.
Embarrassment.
He had no reason to be ashamed around her.
She didn’t care about his lineage.
She did care about learning more about him though, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. He hadn’t told her of his family, had kept so much to himself, and now she could see it was because he thought she would react like her mother and be horrified by whatever upbringing he’d had.
“Are your family farmers?” She meant that as a gentle prompt, one designed to ease him into talking to her about them, but he clammed up and turned his cheek to her. While she enjoyed taking in his noble profile, she much preferred him talking to her. “Millers? The millers in my village are one of the nicest families I know. Their son recently joined the legions.”
“Farmers,” he muttered beneath his breath and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.
Gauging her reaction?
She smiled at him and smoothed the layers of her dress as she arranged them so they wouldn’t fall into the water and she no longer needed to hold them. “So… at this time of year… they would be farming… um… some sort of grain?”
He nodded and relaxed a notch. “They farm and mill wheat and barley that we sell to the demons for their brews and bread. Our land is close to the border with the First Realm. It is a beautiful place, a quiet place, but I did not want to live my life that way. I wanted something different for myself.”
Adventure. It was there in his eyes as they sparkled at her, a trickle of excitement running through their tentative connection.
“So you enlisted in the army.” She looked from him to the sky, and wondered what adventure was out there for her.
“My family always spoke of me learning how to farm, how I would join their business and become like them… because that was what my father had done, and his father before him.” He sighed and lay back on the flat rock.
Shaia looked down at him as he folded his arms beneath his head and stared at the sky, his words striking a chord in her.
She hadn’t thought it possible for them to be similar in any way, but they were more similar than she could have imagined even in her wildest dreams.
“Your mood changed.” His violet eyes slid down to her and narrowed, curiosity shining in them. “Why?”
Fear trickled through her veins.
He sat up, planted his hands behind him on the rock, and frowned at her. “What is it?”
She couldn’t find the courage to tell him while she was looking into his eyes so she dropped them to the patch of grey stone between them, studying the lichens as she found the words.
“I feel the same way as you,” she whispered, and gathered the strength to put more force behind her voice as she told herself that it was Fuery beside her, and if anyone in this world would understand, and not judge her harshly, it was him. “I know I shouldn’t. The tradition that binds me is more powerful than any that bound you.”
She started as his hand suddenly pressed against her right cheek, his skin warm against hers, and he brushed his fingers down to her jaw and lifted it, making her look at him.
His eyes were soft with understanding, warm with affection, and she stared into them, losing herself in them a little.
“I know it is difficult for females. You are expected to do as you are told, to follow the path your family set out for you, and gods… Shaia… that is not right.” He growled the last few words, including her name, the force behind them thrilling her as she spotted his emerging fangs between his lips and felt a ripple of his anger roll through her. “You shouldn’t be treated in such a manner. You are strong, and you know your mind, and you should be free to do as you please, as a male is… I understand why you feel the traditions that bind you are so hard to break free from… but know I am here for you, and I will not allow some foolish, outdated view of how females should behave to stand between us.”
Heat bloomed on her face.
“Do not be ashamed or shy away from the things you want, allowing others to dictate your life for you.” He swept his thumb across her cheek, his soft gaze imploring her to listen to him. “You are strong, beautiful, and I will do all in my power to give you the freedom you desire, and to make you see that you have a right to stand at my side as my equal.”
He lowered his hand from her face and she gasped as a dagger appeared in it, the short flat black blade reflecting the light.
He eased onto his feet, caught her wrist and pulled her onto hers. He pressed the dagger into her free hand, forcing her to curl her fingers around the curved leather-bound hilt.
She couldn’t believe it. She had asked him to train her, but he had been reluctant and hadn’t agreed to it, so she had accepted that he wouldn’t train her.
“I will start right now, by teaching you how to fight.”
Those words swam in Shaia’s head as she rose from the dream, a sigh escaping her as she remembered how adamant he had been about that.
His attitude towards females had been so refreshing. He hadn’t believed she should be docile and gentle, or kept from things like fighting. He had wanted her to be able to protect herself, not reliant on males to do that for her.
Gods, it had been wonderful. Freeing. He had made her stronger, both physically and of heart, stoking her desire to live her life the way she had wanted it and not be bound by the rules of society.
She called the dagger to her hand and studied it, watching the way the light of the lamps reflected off the gleaming black metal surface of the blade. She had kept it sharp, had taken good care of it, and had always kept it with her.
She had continued to practice everything he had taught her in his lessons, shutting herself away in her rooms in her family’s home and using the excuse that she was studying more feminine and acceptable things such as needlecraft in order to avoid questions about why she had locked the doors and didn’t want to be disturbed.
It wasn’t the only weapon she owned either.
During a trip to a large town with her family, she had snuck away under the pretence of purchasing fabric for her dresses and had found a store selling weaponry. She had bought another dagger, this one made of silver metal mined in the dragon realms, and had concealed it in a bundle of fabric to keep it hidden from her parents.
It was nothing like the blade Fuery had given her though.
A dagger he had confessed he’d had made as a gift for her.
It must have cost him a lot of coin.
When she had bought the silver blade, she had inquired about elven metal, and the male in the store had blanched and muttered that such finery was hard to come by and he had never been able to afford such a weapon for his store. Not only that, but the kingdom had strict control over the metal, not allowing any unsanctioned purchases and limiting distribution to only a handful of smiths who worked for the palace.
It was special. Unique. Hers.
She twisted it towards the light and frowned as she spotted something on the pillow beside hers in the reflection.
Her heart sank.
She lowered the dagger, rose onto her knees on the mattress and stared at the silver clasp on the pale blue pillow.
She had given it to him as a memento to take with him during his long journeys, a symbol of her love for him. He had tried to refuse it, stating that such finery didn’t suit him, but she had insisted and eventually he had accepted it.
Shaia picked it up. It was cold on her palm, had been there some time. That cold seemed to leach into her, flowing from her hand up her arm to sink into her heart.
Was he telling her to give up on him?
She wouldn’t do it.
They had been apart for four thousand years, but she had never stopped loving him, and she knew that deep inside him, he loved her too. He needed her as much as she needed him.
Perhaps more so.
She wouldn’t allow his past to stand between them and the future they had always wanted. She would find a way to make him see that the feelings in her heart were true, and constant, and unbreakable, and nothing he did could change them. She loved him, all of him, both the dark and the light.
She teleported her dagger away from her, sending it back to her small home, and shuffled to the edge of the bed. She slipped out of her robe, and into her tan trousers, grey tunic and leather boots, and pocketed the clasp as she strode towards the door of her room at the inn.
It creaked as she opened it, and the sound of it slamming behind her echoed through the still building. She didn’t stop to ponder the hour, instead hurried down the steps to the ground floor and out into the street, crossing it swiftly to the guild. She pushed the arched wooden door open and strode along the elegant hallway, and across the reception room, heading for the door in the far right corner.
A male stepped into her path and she bared her fangs at him on a growl, only realising after threatening him that he was massive, a wall of muscle and menace that radiated danger.
He looked as if he might back off, but then he seized her wrist.
His mistake.
She called her blade to her hand and had it pressed to his throat before he could move, a combination of adrenaline and fear controlling her as it screamed at her to fight and protect herself.
“Fuery taught you well.” Hartt’s deep voice rolled over the room, and the large brunet male slid dark eyes his way. “Unhand her.”
The assassin huffed and pushed her wrist away from him as he released it, the force of it shaking her balance so her blade came away from his throat, leaving her wide open.
“Not that well,” he grumbled and stomped away from them, brushing his unruly brown waves back from his face as he stalked towards the exit.
“Do not mind Klay. I think he lost whatever manners he had back in Archangel’s cells.” Hartt issued a troubled look in the big male’s direction and the worry remained in it as he shifted it to her. “Fuery isn’t here.”
“Do you know where he is?”
He shook his head, sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, drawing his lower lip down as it passed over it, and then rubbed at his jaw, his expression shifting towards thoughtful.
“I told him my theory that it isn’t only my bond with him that has kept him from losing himself all these years. It was yours too. You are the reason he has always fought back against the darkness, even when he believed you dead. You are the reason he is still alive now.” He gestured towards the black couches, but she shook her head, too on edge to sit when she needed to find Fuery. “I think it was… is… your love for him that has kept a glimmer of light in his soul despite the darkness.”
A glimmer of light she had apparently caused to grow when she had reconnected with him through their bond.
“It shocked him a little.” Hartt’s sharp amethyst eyes gained a worried edge that showed in his voice. “He left and I presumed it was to return to you, but then he… he cannot normally teleport, not unless he is desperate…”
But he had teleported away from the guild, and now Hartt wasn’t sure where he had gone.
Where would her love go?
She wracked her brain and her heart, searching for the answer to that question, needing to know it because she needed to find him. He needed her now more than ever. She believed that Hartt was right, and love had kept Fuery from slipping into the black abyss, giving him a reason to live, but it wasn’t only her love for him that had kept him going.
It was his love for her too.
A love that she knew was eternal and unbreakable.
It was the promise he had made to her, vowing he would always protect her.
Hartt’s theory had shocked him though. Because he was finding it difficult to believe that she still loved him?
She had felt his fear when they had been together, knew it stemmed from the darkness that lived within him and the thought she might witness it, that it might drive her away.
Or he might hurt her because of it.
Fears that were unfounded, and ones she was determined to erase for him.
If only she could find him.
“He will come back.”
She didn’t heed Hartt’s words, because she wasn’t going to wait. Not anymore. She was done with waiting. She was going to find Fuery and bring him home. She needed to find him.
Where had he gone?
She closed her eyes and thought about everything Hartt had told her, and all that she felt, and tried to think in the way Fuery would be. He would look for a place where he could think, where he could gather himself and somehow come to terms with the things Hartt had told him—things he probably knew in his heart were true. He would look for somewhere that soothed him, a spot that would help him clear his mind and seek the answers to the question that plagued him the most—the one he had revealed to her in her room.
Could he trust himself with her?
Her eyes popped open as a place came to her.
“I know where he is.”
She teleported before Hartt could respond, landing on the soft rich dirt that lined the bank of the river as it curved in a sweeping bend, hugging the cliff on the other side and embracing the woods on the one where she stood. The sound of it cut through the still cool night air, bouncing off the steep rock face.
Her knees weakened as her strength faltered, the teleport draining her more than she had anticipated. She swiped the back of her hand across her damp brow and breathed slowly, attempting to settle her heart. Giving Fuery her blood had left her weaker than she had thought. She reached out in front of her, towards the rough trunk of the nearest tree, needing support while she caught her breath.
The soft click of a branch snapping came from behind her.
Shaia whirled to face that direction, heart lifting as she sought Fuery.
A trio of males stared at her, all of them dressed in black clothing that made them blend into the darkness and long cloaks with the hoods drawn over their heads. Warm light from the small fire they had been sitting around chased across their faces as they each moved a step closer to her, revealing violet eyes. Elves. She breathed a little easier, sure she had shocked them as much as they had surprised her.
They were probably merchants, stopping for the night to rest.
She glanced around their makeshift camp, her gaze slowing and heart beginning a hard thump against her ribs when she didn’t find any goods, cart or horses nearby.
The tallest of the three stepped towards her, leaving his place to the right of the fire.
He raised his hand to his mouth, his eyes dark as they locked on her.
“I did not mean to disturb—” She flinched as the right side of her neck stung and her hand darted up to it.
Feathers brushed her fingertips.
Numbing warmth spread through her from that point, clouding her mind, and she staggered backwards as her legs gave out, her muscles turning liquid beneath her skin. She twisted and hit the trunk of the tree behind her, tried to grip it and find the strength to run as fear rushed in her blood, stealing more of it from her.
Fuery.
She panicked and reached for him through their bond, using her grip on the tree to strengthen her connection to nature and their link.
The tree wobbled in her vision and the light that had flowed into her as her connection to Fuery had opened wavered and died, and darkness swept in to replace it.
She sagged against the tree, her limbs heavy as she struggled to lift her hand, her breath sawing from her lips in shallow pants and sweat rolling down her spine beneath her tunic. She needed to reach it. Gods, she needed to feel it. Her trembling worsened and she grunted as she forced her limbs to work and kept reaching upwards, little by little. She needed the comfort now more than ever.
She sighed in relief as her fingertips brushed familiar lines and curves, initials that Fuery had carved on this tree to symbolise their love and eternally mark it for all to see. Initials she had reinforced with the dagger he had given her each year on the anniversary of their mating, ensuring they remained, and had uttered a prayer for him, asking nature and the gods to take care of her love.
Tears filled her eyes.
She sank to her knees, her hand slipping from the initials to fall into her lap, and her cheek resting against the rough bark.
Darkness swirled around her, and she tried to push it back, but it was too strong, easily devouring her and pulling her down into it.
Words swam in her mind in unfamiliar male voices as she wavered on the brink of oblivion.
“The lord will be pleased.”
Five words that chilled her and she knew with a cold sort of certainty who had sent them.
Eirwyn.