~~~
“I’m sure it was nothing but wolves. They occasionally enter the gardens in search of food.”
Arii had to reign in her disbelief and an obvious eyeroll as Valdis paced the length of the long mahogany table where Lorch, Commander Hawke and a few other men of his personal council sat.
Was he consuming Crystal Ice, or was he just mad? Did he seriously expect wolves to have flayed the man’s skin and ruptured his ribs, eating his heart in the process? Besides, how on Earth had the beasts entered the castle while it was locked up tight at night?
Lorch pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, looking tired in the firelight. “Wolves? Father, that sounds insane.”
“Perhaps a feud among the peasants? A blood debt unknown to us?”
Lorch’s eyes lifted and his lips were set in a hard line. One of the councilmen spoke then, an older man with wispy white hair who looked to still be wearing his bed clothes. “Perhaps it was the same person who slaughtered our guards in the Amberbourne tavern? A message meant for us to decipher?”
“Preposterous, we are reading too far into this!” cried Valdis as he slammed a fist against the table. “Servants die all the time, it is nothing new.”
Why was he so fixated on brushing the man’s death under a rug?
Arii’s gaze slid to Lorch and she found he was watching her, his blue eyes glimmering with concern. “What else can you tell me of the body, Miss Clearwater? You inspected it, did you not?”
She felt all eyes on her as she stood by the council chamber doors. Clearing her throat, she stepped forward. She felt Elijah’s presence a foot away, a solid figure close by.
“I noticed his skin was tainted, seemingly with tiny shards of crystal.”
That made the room pause with a heavy silence.
“Crystal, what kind of crystal?” said the white-haired man.
“The night was dark, perhaps your eyes tricked you?” snapped Valdis from across the room, his tone laced with condescension. “Mayhap his skin was wet with perspiration from his fight before death.”
“I know what I saw,” growled Arii, causing the room to silence again. Her chin lifted and she saw pure rage simmering in the man’s eyes as they met, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The way Valdis looked at her was as if she were a roach under his boot.
Unblinking, they stared each other down in a silent battle of wills.
Lorch was quick to stand, his chair creaking across the marble behind him as he spoke quickly. “Leave me with Miss Clearwater, I wish to learn more of what she saw.”
Valdis’s mouth opened to protest, but Lorch’s look was final. “Father, please.”
His father’s look was dark, but he complied with stiff bow and followed after the councilmen as they filtered from the chambers.
Lorch lifted a hand as Commander Hawke moved to follow. “Commander, I’d appreciate your input if you will stay for just a moment.”
The older man paused and turned to face the King.
Lorch’s cerulean eyes found Arii once again and flashes of their stolen kiss in the castle hallway fluttered across her mind’s eye.
“The man’s heart was missing, and his skin was littered with crystal?” Lorch continued, lifting a goblet to his lips.
“So it seemed, Your Grace.”
Elijah spoke then as he approached the table. “Something about this feels… wrong.” He paused and rested his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Lorch was nodding in agreeance, before his head inclined to Commander Hawke. “Commander, have our best healers survey the body and come to me tomorrow with a full report.”
Commander Hawke nodded before bowing and turning from the room to fulfil his orders.
The King’s eyes slid to Elijah and when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically low. Tired.
“Leave me with Miss Clearwater, Elijah. I will be along in a moment.”
Elijah stiffened and before his protest could be voiced, Lorch raised a hand to silence him.
“Now,” he ordered. The air in the room was heavy with sudden tension, and Arii found her fingernails had been biting into her palms since her stare off with Valdis.
Elijah bowed stiffly and slowly made his way from the room without another protest, but she knew he had been glaring at them with disapproval. The cloaked man paused by the King for a moment, and Arii heard the gentle whisper of Lorch’s voice. “I trust her, Elijah.”
Gods how foolish he was.
The door clicked behind Elijah, and Arii found she had been staring in his wake.
Lorch approached her, his eyes dark. “Are you alright? Seeing something like that would turn the stomach of a seasoned soldier.”
Arii’s eyes lifted to his as he paused before her. His head tilted ever so slightly as he surveyed her casual dress. She had not had the time to change between seeing the body and being summoned to the council chambers.
“I’m fine,” she admitted.
Lorch’s hand lifted, his thumb skimming her bottom lip. “Then why do you look like you are about to spit fire like a dragon?” His lips twitched in a small smile as colour rose to her cheeks at his touch.
Damn her body, giving her away so obviously.
“Your father, he…”
“Don’t worry about what my father thinks.”
“Do you not?”
Lorch chuckled low and ran his fingers along her jawline, causing flutters to ignite in her stomach like hundreds of tiny butterflies. His fingers snaked around her nape, and Arii’s eyes drifted to his face, his expression so open that it caused her to pause. Slowly, her eyes dropped to his lips.
“Of course I do, but I believe he is wrong about the wolves. Something else is the cause of the man’s death and I’m going to find out what it was,” he said, his voice taking on a faraway quality, as if his mind lingered elsewhere.
He leaned in and she could smell the sweet smell of lavender and honey combined, with the faintest hint of cinnamon. Strange, that smell was new. His lips brushed hers, and she found she was holding her breath as the King’s hand tightened at her nape. His tongue brushed the bow of her lips and she found them parting, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
She realised she was kissing him back, and with just as much simmering, barely held back passion, their tongues dancing gently. His hand slipped around her waist, resting on the dip of her lower back, fingers spreading and pressing her body closer to his.
He pulled away ever so slightly and spoke into the small distance between them, his breath warm on her face. “Why is it that I cannot get you out of my head, Miss Clearwater?” His voice was almost pained.
She swallowed and found herself staring at the smooth lines of his face, the clean-shaven ledges of his cheekbones and the thick crescents of his downturned eyelashes against his light olive skin as he sighed heavily. She knew that if he lingered to long, Elijah would soon come bursting through the doors to see what was halting them. She wondered if the bodyguard knew what was happening at that moment. If he did, she knew she would pay at training in the morning.
“I’m quite unforgettable,” she said in answer, slightly breathless.
Lorch smiled and leaned back, studying her face. “That you are,” he admitted, before grinning slowly. “You certainly aren’t humble, are you?” he said, his lips pulling in a lopsided smile before stepping away.
“You don’t become unforgettable by being humble,” she said, a slow smirk spreading across her face.
“You’re such a surprise, Miss Clearwater.”
Oh, he had no idea.
The cool air in the space between them seemed to wash them both from their haze, and the King was soon pressing a kiss to the palm of her hand, eyes never leaving hers as he whispered a breathy, “Go get some sleep, Arii. We w
ill talk on the morrow.”
Arii.
He was beginning to throw formalities to the wind.
She was not sure how she felt about that.
As the King paced from the room, Arii felt a strange sensation eating at her stomach.
Later she realised it was sadness at his exit, and low, keening longing.
Chapter Fifteen
“Colkirk has the best mead you say? Well, you have not tried Mrs Mulvany’s famous honey mead – best golden drop in the North I’d say! Come, they serve it in the tavern just around the corner,” Lorch announced as they slipped down the main causeway amongst the bustling town of Viridya.
The town, connected to the castle grounds, was neat and spotless, the complete opposite to the dirty, rat infested towns making up the remainder of the North Court.
Visiting the town was something the King did monthly – ensuring he mingled with his loyal subjects. People bowed and sang praises his way as Lorch browsed their stalls, frequently complimenting the shopkeepers on their interesting wares and hoping their families were well.
Arii had been bold enough to ask why he did not frequent the other towns of his kingdom. Perhaps if he did so, he would see how much the people needed help. He had deflected her question, before moving on to how incredible the weather was – and had she been back to the pool since they were there last?
If she did not know any better, she would have thought he was avoiding her question altogether.
Well, she knew better.
Elijah and Arii trailed close behind as Lorch paused at a stall piled high with silks, the King’s golden rings glittering on his outstretched hand as he fingered a billowing sheet of gossamer. As he conversed with the shopkeeper, Arii’s head tilted to survey Elijah.
He had stopped, his cloaked hood angled towards a stall.
Arii’s brows rose, wondering what had snagged the man’s attention. Shifting to gaze around him, she noticed a little display laid out with rows and rows of little pots of paint and artists’ tools. There was an incredible array of colours on display, from blues to yellows to oranges – some with matt finishes and some with hints of glitter mixed into the paint, setting off the rainbows of colours with sparkles in the sunlight.
The woman behind the counter smiled warmly, and Arii noticed her cheek was smeared with a streak of yellow paint. Her eyes were a warm brown – her skin a deep shade of chocolate and her dark hair pulled back into messy bun, the thick curls barely contained within the leather tie.
Arii’s brows scrunched as her eyes darted up to Elijah’s shadowed face.
“See any colours you like, My Lord?” the woman asked, her voice light and friendly. Despite the strange air around the hooded man, despite the fact she could not see her customer’s face – it did not seem to deter the woman from offering her service. Her lips curled in a grin, a little space between her two front teeth appearing as she said, “We just received our shipment of hide canvases, they hold the colours far better once the paint dries – unlike the standard parchment.” The woman angled her easel – showing them her artwork.
The canvass was covered in splatters of paint, no particular image to behold – but Arii could not help but stare at the random flurries of colour. They all worked so well together, the brush strokes haphazard and splotches of paint splattered like the woman had slit the throat of a unicorn – letting the rainbow lifeblood spray across the canvas like rain.
Of course, her mind would slide to violence.
“Can I put you down for some fresh canvas and paint, Master Wolfe? You always stop to look.”
Arii’s rows rose as the woman smiled at Elijah.
Strange, the shop owner acted as if Elijah was not a stranger to her.
Elijah hovered at the stall for a few moments more, before his deep, gentle voice drifted from the confines of his hood. “Thank you, Maggie – but not today.”
Maggie nodded, busying herself in arranging some of the paint pots before her, seemingly nonplussed with his gentle rejection.
“Next time, then!”
As they continued on after Lorch, Arii whispered, “A painter, ay?”
Elijah remained silent, his boots barely making a sound. She knew he was surveying their surroundings for any signs of danger – any threat to the man before them. She was not expecting a reply, so when his voice drifted gently between them, she had to keep from glancing his way.
“I used to, but not for a long time.”
“Do you visit the stall often? The clerk seems to know you.”
His lips twitched before saying, “Sometimes I stop to see what new paints she had come up with. Maggie has a keen eye for colour.”
It was strange, Arii did not see the harsh, brooding warrior as someone who would enjoy something as simple as painting. What would a man like Elijah hope to paint, anyway? There was a note to his voice that – had she not been so keenly aware of the tenor of his vocals – she would not have picked up. It was a tinge of sadness, a touch of longing for something he missed.
Arii risked a glance back at the art stall, watching as Maggie offered a wooden artists’ palette to a browsing customer – her features bright in a smile.
Slowly, Arii’s eyes drifted back to the cloaked man beside her, realising that she in fact still knew nothing about him. Simple things like what his favourite colour was, or how he enjoyed his coffee? Did he have a pinch of sugar with cream – or just straight black, bitter like the way he snapped at her in the training ring?
She was itching to know more.
So, as the afternoon sun dappled the market stalls as they cleared up for the night, Arii returned to the artist’s stall, placing down a small bag of silver in front of the woman. Choosing a satchel of colours and a handful of supplies, along with a couple of canvas squares, Arii offered the woman a grin as she hefted the package into her arms and headed back to the castle.
There was a knock at his door that had Elijah pausing, his finger on a passage in the book he was reading. He placed it down, heading to the door, his brows drawn.
Opening the door, he paused, eyes dancing over empty air.
His eyes dropped to the floor, resting on a neatly packaged satchel of artist supplies, carefully bound in a ribbon of gold.
Elijah’s brows shot up in a look of rare surprise as he cast his gaze down the hall both ways, wondering who had left the gift.
A gift? He never received gifts.
Hesitantly he dipped to lift the package, turning and pressing the door closed behind him with a gentle click.
Resting the parcel on his bed and stepping back, Elijah rubbed at his jaw, the look of surprise never leaving his face as his mind instantly danced to Arii. She had seen the way he had paused at the stall, his eyes catching on the beautiful array of paints and their assortment of colours. Could she have done this? He did not see her as the gift giving type.
Then again, he hardly knew her.
It had been so long since he had painted, so long since his hand had done anything but deliver violence and death. Art had once been an escape, something he enjoyed doing. Since his ascension to the King’s bodyguard, he had not had the time – nor the drive – to pick up a brush and let his mind go.
He paused, noticing a little note tied to a gold string, the end curling around one of the thicker bristled brushes. Pinching the card, he flipped it to read the simple note scrawled in black ink. The writing was sloping and elegant, far neater than he expected of her.
I would like to see what those hands can do with a brush in them, brandishing paint instead of steel. Compose me a masterpiece.
Arii.
He imagined her face, eyes lightening with curiosity as she noticed his hesitation before the stall of art supplies, the gentle tilt of her head, her honey tipped hair sliding over her shoulders as she surveyed
the arrangement of colourful paints. Sunlight had danced over her features, lighting her dark eyelashes with a tinge of gold as her lips twitched with a small smile.
That strange feeling began manifesting in his chest at the sight – at the hint of unveiled inquisitiveness that made her face soften.
Until her eyes met his, and the cool façade lifted like a mask once more.
He wanted so badly to trust her.
But around Lorch, he trusted no one.
Elijah stared at the note for a whole minute, his mind slowly slipping back to the gift.
Gods, she was so unexpected.
With a small smile, he began to unlace the golden ribbon.
~~~
Arii was not sure why she was heading down the road, peering up at the hanging willows as dawn’s light filtered through the leaves. She felt drawn to the pool, the peaceful place she had been introduced to by Lorch. That day felt so long ago.
The sun bounced off the crystal water that rippled gently, and she found her eyes sweeping the delicately swaying blades of grass as she paused.
When she saw his dark hair fluttering in the breeze, she did not feel surprise.
Arii paused a few paces away as Elijah touched a brush to the canvas resting on his knees, sitting on a blanket next to the array of paints she had purchased for him. He did not turn his head as he said, “You know, I have not held a brush in nine years.”
She grinned. “I’ll bet you’re shit now, huh?”
His head tilted, silver eyes surveying her with a quirked brow, his expression lighter than she had been expecting.
“See for yourself.”
She dipped to rest on her knees as she joined him on the blanket. Elijah angled the canvas, showing her the painting.
She felt her breath dash between her lips as her eyes glided over the almost perfect brush stroked image of the pool before them, the details intricate yet slightly abstract.
It was incredible.
“Holy hell,” she whispered. “I take that back.”
Love, Blood & Fury Page 23
