Chapter Nineteen

 

 

Davian was off on another military mission. He wouldn’t give Jade any indication of what he and Morgan had discovered that had them so hush-hush and scouring Canada. All he told her, in a placating tone that had made her simper, was that they had a concrete lead on the colony of demons they thought were under the rule of the fire wraith.

Since the demons had vacated their camp, Davian and Morgan believed the wraith wouldn’t come after her again. Without Davian being close to the village, there’d be no point in the wraith using Jade as bait. That, however, did not keep the slayers from heavily protecting her, upon the king’s orders. He’d also charged a small patrol from his army with watching the woods on the demon side of Ryleigh’s boundaries.

When Toran dropped her off at the village square on the morning of Christmas Eve, he said, “We’re back to training tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. I’m fine now. Come for me in the afternoon.”

He nodded. “Walker will take you home tonight after you’re finished at the tavern.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You’ve been a huge help, Toran.”

He rode off and she headed toward Lisette’s library. But the line of people outside the bakery drew her attention. So too did the fact that the sidewalks and streets had been cleared of the fresh powder that had accumulated over the past month. A layer of packed snow still covered the surfaces, but it was so much easier to trek through the small community—a treat this time of year.

As she approached the bakery, Ginny Lambert, the last in line, waved her over. “Jade! Thank the Lord. You really are okay.”

Unexpectedly, the older woman gave her a firm hug.

Malcolm Carter, the town’s highly skilled blacksmith, said, “You had everybody worried.”

“I’m fine,” she assured them as her presence garnered more interest. Ignoring the curious looks, she nodded toward the inside of the shop and asked, “What’s all the fuss about?”

Just then, Marge Leighton, the baker’s wife, appeared. “I heard Ginny say your name. Thank goodness you’re all right. Attacked by a fire wraith? How horrific!”

“Yes,” Jade said as she fought the chill rippling through her at the reminder.

“Here, take these.” Marge thrust her plump hand toward Jade. She held out a chipped plate. “Cranberry and orange muffins. They’re to die for. Well,” she added hastily as the group gathered about seemed to collectively gasp. “Those aren’t quite the appropriate words to use in our village, are they? But the muffins will not disappoint.” She whirled around and headed back inside to keep the customers moving along.

“Wait! I haven’t paid.”

“For you, Jade, they’re on the house!”

She gazed down at the pastries and shrugged, a bit confused.

Leaving the crowd, she found another line at the coffee shop, which offered little more than the standard fare in coffee. However, it was more convenient to grab a mass-produced mug there than brew a pot over the fire in offices, shops, homes. Still, the average cup of joe wasn’t worth a fifteen-minute wait.

“What on earth is going on?” she asked Walt Steinman, the village dentist.

“Gourmet coffee, rumor has it.”

Jade sniffed the air. “Smells like Christmas.”

“Nutmeg? Cinnamon? Hazelnut?” Walt queried. “I can’t even figure out what they’re using to spice up the usual beans, but it beats the hell out of the same old, same old, don’t you think?”

“I agree.”

She stood behind him, but didn’t have to wait for her turn. The shop owner, Judith Mills, came out with two large, ceramic mugs, their typical to-go cups that everyone who ventured away from the shop returned at the end of the day.

Judith ceremoniously handed them over as Jade balanced the plate along their rims.

“Take this to Lisette. She’ll love this new flavor,” Judith said.

Jade’s brow furrowed.

“Don’t worry about paying me. You’ve been through hell, from what everyone around here has heard. We’re all so relieved you’re alive, Jade.”

She merely nodded, since she couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. Judith patted her on the cheek before turning away.

Carefully making it to the library, Jade kicked the door with her booted foot and Lisette pulled it open.

“Oh!” the older woman exclaimed as she reached for the muffins so they didn’t topple.

“Surprise,” Jade said. “I’ve become Alice.”

“Did you like the book?”

“Very strange. But so is this village today.”

She joined her friend at the desk by the fireplace and set the mugs on top of it.

Lisette said, “Someone’s playing not-so-secret Santa.” She inclined her head to the left and Jade’s gaze followed.

Four boxes of books were stacked in the corner.

“Where did they come from?” Jade asked as she wandered over to the new collection.

“Found them sitting on my doorstep when I arrived this morning. I dragged the boxes in and now I’m trying to find space for them because they’re very exciting titles.”

Jade knelt and sifted through the hard- and paperback books. “Not all of them…” She extracted three textbooks from the bin, a smile playing on her lips. “Geometry, Calculus and Trigonometry.” Under her breath, she muttered, “What a smartass.”

Standing, she turned back to Lisette and said, “The Leightons have cranberries and oranges to make muffins with and the coffee shop has a variety of new spices. Take a sip.”

“It does smell delicious. All of this had to have come from the castle.” She speared Jade with an inquisitive look. “Why is the Demon King suddenly so generous toward the villagers, I wonder?”

Jade sipped her own coffee, then shrugged. “’Tis the season?”

“I’ve lived in this village since it was established, Jade.” With an indignant huff, Lisette added, “Don’t be coy with me. I know you better than that.”

She sighed. Again with that reputation of hers. “Maybe he’s feeling guilty over the attempts on my life.”

“Or maybe he’s taken a liking to you.”

Jade’s stomach fluttered. She had to suppress another smile. “I wouldn’t make too much out of it.”

“Jade.”

She drank her coffee, averting her eyes. Lisette did not give up.

“You do understand the ramifications of an association with him?”

Thinking back to her conversation with Davian about her ability to open up to him and Sheena more so than her human friends, she dug deep to be honest with Lisette.

“I can’t say I know for sure what I’m doing. Yes, I understand the ramifications. The dangers. The insanity of it all. But he’s not what I’d originally thought. And he doesn’t dislike humans. He has many regrets about the war—in fact, he never wanted the destruction that occurred.”

Lisette set aside her cup. “You’re being sympathetic toward a demon.”

“Not sympathetic. Empathetic, maybe. He’s not the first to unleash an army on human beings, you know.”

She scoffed. “That’s hardly a defense.”

Jade stood and crossed to the fiction section of the library. She scanned the shelf she was all too familiar with and retrieved a novel. Returning to the table, she handed it over.

“North and South?” her friend asked. “What about it?”

“You do recall the Civil War, right?”

Lisette glowered. She laid the book down, not saying anything more.

Jade sat across from her. “I’ll never be disconnected from my feelings or the experience of being a human in a world under demonic rule. But I do like the idea of peace.”

“At what price?” her friend pointedly asked. “You could find yourself in a very difficult and perilous position if you’re not selective about the company you keep.”

Jade knew better than to argue further. Lisette made sense, after all.

They finished their coffee and muffins in silence. Jade was about to leave when Alex Stanton from the post station blew in, one arm wrapped around a large metal object that appeared to be extremely heavy for the wiry man. He all but dropped it on the spare desk in the corner and dumped a satchel next to it.

He took a moment to catch his breath as Jade closed the door behind him. Then he told her, “Special delivery for you.”

“What is it?” she asked as she stepped around him.

Lisette answered the question. “It’s a manual typewriter. A Royal from the early 1900s.”

“There’s parchment too,” Alex said as he lifted the flap on the satchel to reveal a thick stack.

“The ribbon looks to be in good shape,” Lisette mused as she inspected the machine. She grabbed a sheet and rolled it into place, then typed a few words. “Very nice. Quite smooth, in fact, so perhaps it’s been recently refurbished.”

Jade was perplexed. “What am I supposed to do with it?”

With a laugh, her friend said, “I haven’t the slightest idea. Write a book, I guess. You do love reading them. Maybe someone thinks there’s a story inside that head of yours.” She went back to her desk.

To Alex, Jade said, “Thanks for bringing it over.”

“Sure thing.”

He left the library and Jade sat at the chair behind the typewriter, staring at the letters on the keys. “Why are they not alphabetized?”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a keyboard. The logic I once heard is that they’re arranged by common usage. You become accustomed to where they’re located. If you practice enough, you can type without even looking at the letters.”

Jade laughed. “Yeah, right.” She started pecking out words, nonetheless. Fascinated, even though she wasn’t actually typing anything coherent—just acclimating herself to the layout—she spent the rest of the afternoon clicking away before heading to the tavern.

When Walker returned her home, she got another surprise.

As she entered the living room, she found it decorated with garland on the fireplace mantle, along with lit candles everywhere. The rectangular table was set for two with her usual dishes and accented with a long, plush arrangement of garland, pinecones and tall tapers.

The scent that wafted her way took her toward the kitchen. She didn’t make it there, though. Davian stepped into the oversize doorway between the hall and the living room and propped a forearm against the wall.

He grinned sexily. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It was after midnight, so his timing was impeccable. “I like how you spruced the place up,” she told him. “Maybe I needed a man, after all.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be festive.”

“Or kind.” She stepped closer and put her hands on his waist. “Tell me I didn’t guilt you into sharing some of your indulgences with the village.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t. You made a legitimate argument and I listened. If I say I want to promote peace, I should back it up with goodwill.”

Staring up at him, she said, “It neither went unnoticed nor unappreciated.”

The backs of his fingers grazed her cheek and he said, “You do make me look at things from a different perspective. A bigger picture. It’s fascinating.” In a reflective voice, he contended, “I seemed to have forgotten that I’m not just a leader of my alliance, but that I rule North and Central America—and am therefore a leader for everyone who inhabits this landmass.”

“We’re not all of like minds,” she admitted, “but the demons within your coalition haven’t violated your command. And the humans, including the slayers and the witches, have obeyed your laws. Harmony may never be an appropriate word for us to use, but co-existence can be much more genuine and less worrisome if we can at least partially bridge the gap. There haven’t been any uprisings led by the mortals, but we’re still carefully monitored. Yet outlaw demons can prey on us at any time.”

“Yes, that is something that troubles me.”

That he agreed with her intrigued Jade. “Did you learn anything new while you were out with Morgan?”

He kissed her tenderly. “Let’s have dinner.”

Hmm…avoidance.

Though she didn’t press, suspecting he’d tell her any news he had when he felt the time was right. She realized she trusted him enough to not poke and prod. Not that her mind didn’t churn with curious thoughts…

Pushing them aside, she asked, “What can I do to help?”

“Sit, and let me finish what I’m doing.”

She laughed. “So demanding.” Regardless, she slipped into a seat at the table and inhaled the lovely aroma of pine mixed with the hint of cinnamon.

With efficiency to rival Sheena’s, Davian set out bowls of food, from baked potatoes to sage-flavored stuffing to steamed asparagus and a vegetable medley. But his main dish surprised her most.

“Filet mignon,” he explained when he placed a plump, round piece of meat on her plate. “With Hollandaise sauce.” He drizzled the pale-yellow concoction over her steak.

She eyed the beef and said, “I have no idea what this is.”

“Just wait.”

He disappeared out the front door, only to come back a few seconds later with a bottle in his hand. “Champagne from France. I had it chilling in the snow.”

She gawked. “Seriously, this is how you eat at the castle?”

“Well,” he said in a tone that wasn’t arrogant—or contrite. “I am the king.”

“True.”

“Besides,” he said as he popped the cork on the bottle, “Ryleigh has cattle and a butcher. He could provide this same cut.”

“Oooh, your first jibe.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “I’m not trying to be snide. Merely stating a fact.”

Jade’s subconscious instantly hit upon something she’d deliberated over for some time. “It’s sort of like all those books in Lisette’s library that hardly anyone but her and I read. Once the villagers figured out how to survive post-war with things they’d recovered and salvaged, recreated from scratch or traded for, they seemed satisfied with the status quo. Instead of looking for ways to make improvements.”

“Maybe that’s because my army destroyed all the previous advancements.”

“And we think you might do it again, if we try to progress? That’s an interesting conjecture.”

Davian seemed to chew on this a moment, then diplomatically offered, “Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss politics tonight.”

“Agreed. Except…” She thought of the book she’d handed to Lisette earlier. “Have you ever read North and South?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s a fictitious novel centered around the Civil War—which took place during your formative years.”

He shot her a playful sneer at the age remark. “Go on.”

“Well, the main character is the son of the owner of a southern plantation who goes off to West Point and meets the male heir to an iron factory in the north. They have significantly different life experiences, obviously, and don’t share similar viewpoints on most topics, all because of where and how they were raised.” She sipped her champagne and was momentarily sidetracked by the effervescence. “Wow…that’s good.”

Davian grinned. “Thought you’d like it.”

He never failed to nail down precisely what she liked. But that was another topic—one to explore later…in bed.

“Anyway,” she continued, fighting distractingly arousing thoughts, “above all that, the commonalities these two men actually do share are significant.”

“Such as?”

“Honor. Respect for their families, their friends and their legacies. Even open-mindedness.”

“Good qualities to possess.”

“Yes. And despite all their opposing opinions, they become the best of friends. Their families even bond to an extent. But the tensions increase as the regional issues escalate. The war eventually breaks out and they’re pitted against each other—so too are their families. Yet no matter the pressure of their heritages, somehow they find the strength to remain friends amongst the turmoil and against all odds.”

Jade found an acute relevancy in the parallelism forming in the back of her brain.

She said, “In the long run, they’re devoted to their friendship—a true brotherhood. They’re committed in a way that pushes them to help each other through the horror of war, even teetering on the verge of sedition in some instances. The disjointed politics of that period in our history tore apart an entire nation and many families—but these two men inevitably refused to let their bond become a victim of circumstance.”

Davian set his glass aside. “Studies vary, but later accounts indicated nearly eight hundred and fifty thousand soldiers died…as well as countless civilians.”

“That’s huge,” she said. Not as high in casualties as the Demon War, but still. It was an exorbitant number. Percentage-wise, given the population in the late 1800s, there had to be a close correlation to the death tolls.

“The war didn’t just come about because of opposing attitudes regarding slavery,” Davian added, “but also because the north felt it necessary to advocate for the Union—to keep the states intact, as instituted by the Declaration of Independence. Secession by the south was considered treason against the country.”

“In the end,” she reminded him, “relations between the north and south were restored.”

Davian’s finger and thumb curled around the stem of his champagne glass. He’d brought both of them with him, since she didn’t own anything so elegant. He swiveled the crystal flute as he inquired, “Are you hinting we should engage in our own Reconstruction Era?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I think an honest evaluation of the state of affairs is in order first. After all, when the Demon War broke out, this country was already in a fit of unrest—ironically over things like racial differences and the Confederate flag.”

There’d been more to it than that, though. She said, “Terrorism ran rampant so that even attending a concert or a sporting event—or just going to work—put one’s life at risk. A decade before the Demon War, the economy had suffered horrifically. People suffered,” she amended. “Lisette said it’d been a dire situation with the real estate, financial and job markets, so much so, there were quite a number of suicides and the homeless rate escalated. Apparently, there was a lot of despair and division of political, social and cultural opinions even after the recession—which increased tensions amongst humans, no need to even factor in the demons at that point.”

He leaned forward and gazed at her. “What is it that you want, Jade? Common ground across the board?”

“Is that asking so much?”

“Someone has to hold more power.”

“I don’t disagree. But shouldn’t the entity in power hold the entire territory in its best interest?”

One corner of the Demon King’s mouth dipped.

Jade pushed a little harder. “What pisses you off more—that I challenge you, or that you’ve already contemplated everything I suggest?”

He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he lifted his fork and simply said, “Eat.”

After dinner, they finished their champagne while snuggling before the fire, something she’d told Michael she’d longed for way back when, at the onset of autumn. That conversation seemed as though it had taken place years ago.

Later, Davian took her to bed and made love to her.

As they nestled in the sheets and gazed at one another while lying on their sides, facing each other, he said, “I have a gift for you.”

“I got it already.” She’d completely forgotten about the typewriter. “Not sure what I’m supposed to compose on that thing, since I don’t know anyone outside the village to correspond with, but I was instantly enthralled by it. Lisette thinks I should write a book.”

Her resultant snicker seemed to trigger his furrowed brow.

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked.

“What would I write about?”

Davian kissed her and murmured, “You’ll figure it out.” Then he rolled away.

“You’re not leaving so soon?” Her tone was a bit on the panicked side, because Jade had missed him while he’d been gone. Clearing her throat in hopes of sounding a little more collected, she said, “I mean, you only returned this evening. And you haven’t even told me about your scouting trip with Morgan.”

“Give me a moment.” He walked out of the room. Since he only wore his briefs, and his clothes were strewn all over her bedroom floor, she took solace in that he wasn’t on his way out of the cottage, back to the castle.

When he reappeared, he climbed into bed, resuming his previous position. They cuddled under the covers, though a low fire burned in the hearth, keeping the chill from the air.

Davian handed her a small, black velvet bag. She worked the drawstring opening as her curiosity mounted. Dumping the contents into the palm of her hand, she stared in shock at her real present.

A ring.

“It’s mother of pearl,” he told her. “Comes from oysters and abalones.”

The wide band was made of the shimmery, iridescent white mineral.

“You’re giving me jewelry after I lost your necklace? Which I still feel horrible about, by the way.”

“We’ll find it in the spring, when the snow melts.”

Her gaze on the ring, she gnawed her bottom lip a moment, then said, “I don’t know, Davian. I’ll never forgive myself if we can’t locate the necklace. And if anything were to happen to this ring… God, it really is beautiful.” She inspected it closely. Letters were printed on it in thin black script. “MLA?”

His velvety lips swept along her temple. “My love always.”

Jade’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at him, her pulse hitching. “Who would have guessed you’re so romantic?”

“Just needed the opportunity to prove it. And the right woman.”

Her eyes misted. “I’ll be extremely careful with this.”

When she slipped it onto her ring finger on her right hand, he said, “Correct finger. Wrong hand.”

Her breath caught.

“It goes here,” he told her as he removed the band and placed it on the other hand. He gazed deep into her eyes and whispered, “I love you. And I want you to be my queen.”