Love, Blood & Fury

by Melissa J Kincaid

  Her eyes drifted to Elijah, seeing his lips curling in the hint of a smile. Now if only he could paint that. His rare, hesitant smile – she would hang that over her mantelpiece like a prized possession.

  Her hand reached out, hesitating a breath from his cheek as his eyes met hers, her fingertips hovering over a small smear of colour on his skin.

  “You’ve got paint on your cheek,” she whispered.

  His expression changed then, an emotion she could not name fluttering over his face before becoming stoic once more, like a leaf falling to disturb the clear water before them – drifting out of sight and disappearing downstream.

  Arii swallowed, gazing down and breaking the moment before the sudden tension between them became too much to handle.

  “You’re a master with blades, and now a master with a brush. Is there anything you can’t do, Master Wolfe?” she said, her gaze sliding back to the canvas, before skipping to the rippling pool beyond. Birds darted over the water, catching bugs in the morning light as they dipped and dove.

  Elijah gently placed the canvas down, and she swore she heard a deep exhale of breath – as if he had been holding it in.

  “Well, I shouldn’t admit to it but… I’m a rotten cook. Give me a rabbit to skin – but don’t ask me to deliver anything spectacular.”

  Her eyes danced to him once more, surveying his silver eyes as he leaned back, hands splayed behind him and ankles crossing.

  She had never seen him look so… relaxed.

  It was a good look on him.

  “Well, who expects you to cook when you have castle servants to do it for you?” she pointed out with a small smirk, watching as a breeze played with his dark hair.

  “This is true,” he agreed, his voice low and deep.

  Oh, how far they had come. She had never thought they would be speaking in soft tones to one another, let alone sitting side by side on the banks of a tranquil, beautiful pool of water such as this.

  There was no anger, no venom, no need to outmatch one another for once. Elijah lifted the canvas again, leaning to grasp a thin brush.

  Arii leaned back, fingers splayed upon the warm blanket. Her head tilted, eyes fluttering closed as sunlight kissed her skin.

  “What is your mother like? Colleen?” she asked softly, listening to the gentle swish of the brush against canvas. Elijah was silent for a few moments before speaking, his tone tinged with surprise.

  “Colleen? She is a strong, gentle and kind woman. In all the years I have known her, never has she once raised her voice – even in anger.”

  When Arii’s eyes opened, she saw that small smile once again twitching at the corner of his mouth. “She has always encouraged me to be the best person I can be, and not for a second has she ever doubted me. Of all people to have found me in the forest that day – I could not have asked for anyone better. She treats me like… like I’m her true born son. I have never felt anything but accepted by her.”

  Arii was surprised by his answer – and yet, she was not. Elijah spoke of his adopted mother with clear respect and admiration, and as her eyes danced from his face to the canvas, she felt a warmth bloom across her chest at his words. Despite what little she knew about the bodyguard, and despite his cool and withdrawn facade, one thing was obvious to her – he loved his family deeply.

  “Your father?”

  “Colleen’s husband died a year before she found me.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Whispered Arii, surprised to feel a dash of sadness. Elijah inclined his head slightly, watching her for a few moments before continuing his work. “From what I have learned, he, Derek, died of Dragon Fever. They were married young, and Colleen speaks of him often. Even though I never met the man – I feel much of me has been moulded by his memory, living on through Colleen’s undying love and admiration of him.”

  “And… do you ever think about your birth parents?”

  Elijah dipped the tip of the brush into a pot of blue paint, his brows bunching as he considered her words. When he did not speak for a time, Arii felt perhaps she had overstepped. They were still almost strangers, after all. They may have found a soft middle ground – but that did not mean they trusted each other.

  Finally, Elijah spoke, his voice a low whisper. “Sometimes…” he paused, before adding, “But I cannot remember their faces – so recalling who they were or what they were like is beyond my memory’s clarity.”

  “That must be difficult,” she said.

  “Yes, but I have learned to accept it over time.”

  Arii tried to imagine what it was like – to have years and years of yourself lost beyond a hazy void – just out of reach. Again, she found herself wondering what could have happened to this hesitant, misunderstood man beside her, where he came from and who he truly was.

  With a sigh, Elijah began to shift, packing up the paints and brushes as he said, “I appreciate the gift, Miss Clearwater. It was strangely thoughtful of you.”

  Her lips pursed as she retorted, “You think me incapable of giving gifts?”

  Elijah’s hands paused over his brushes, head tilting to look at her. “Well, yes. You do not seem the gift giving type. From what I have seen so far, I believe all you’d give is the gift of death,” he replied, his tone smooth and deadly serious. His silver eyes lifted, meeting hers. Arii’s tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, her brows climbing in a look of mock surprise. Oh, he knew her far better than she gave him credit for.

  “Well, you’re off my Winter Solstice gift list then, Wolfe.”

  His lips twitched in reply as he gathered the supplies. Slowly, she moved to help him, corking the top of a pot of mercury-coloured paint. She held the container up, watching as the light filtered through the glass – causing the paint to shimmer within.

  “This one… This is my favourite.” she whispered.

  Elijah stood, eyeing her with an unreadable expression as she added, “It reminds me of your eyes.”

  He held out a hand to her.

  After a small moment of hesitation, Arii placed her hand in his, the callouses of his fingers brushing her palm before firming his hold – pulling her to her feet.

  Suddenly she was against his chest, her palms splayed as they both became still. Head up to gaze at him, her lips parted lightly.

  She knew she should move, should step away, but she just could not bring herself to do so. His scent fluttered over her Fae senses, that annoying tug pinching at the middle of her chest once more.

  “You know now of something I enjoy, it’s only fair you divulge to me something of yours,” he whispered, not making to move away either. His head tilted ever so slightly, eyes roaming her face as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

  Arii envisioned her blade as it slid through tender skin – the feel of warm blood as it skittered across her face and drenched her fingers. She imagined splitting the throat of someone sinister, making them smile from ear to ear.

  Did she truly enjoy death? Or had it become all she really knew?

  No… no, that was not true. Another thought came to mind.

  She imagined her fingers skimming the smooth cover of a book, the smell of the paper, the feeling of excitement as she delved into a brand-new story – into a world far brighter, happier and better than her own. Holding a book reminded her of her father, as she perched upon his knee in his study, listening to the soothing cadence of his voice as he read to her. Images flickered across her mind – a shadow memory of her father’s face, smooth, angular and strong, his hair as dark as decadent chocolate and eyes the colour of midnight.

  He had sparked her love of reading, tending to it until it was a raging flame, her little hands eager to grasp the next tome and delve into another world. She once wished to place quill to paper and weave her own story – a story of dragons, magic, strong heroes, and fearless
heroines, along with incredible foes. She had looked up at her father as she described her fantastical stories, grinning as she said, “Don’t worry, Da. Good always wins in my story, for evil will be driven away by magic, and love. Magic and love will always save the world from darkness… Right?”

  Oh, how wrong she had been.

  Their land – their home had been plummeting into a blackening abyss for far longer than she had existed, plagued with fear that outweighing the good in the world. Uncertainty had created division… division had created fear… and then fear had begun to tear Fythnar apart.

  And magic? Once a glittering, shining, spectacular force – now it was but a sigh upon the wind.

  Despite the darkness, small stories of hope remained, inked into countless tomes nestled in libraries across the land. Stories of a land united, rich and prosperous. A shadow of pain bloomed across her chest at the thought of her father, at the rare feeling of grief she felt at his loss. She suddenly had the strange urge to be embraced, to press her face into a warm chest. It was not a feeling she was wholly unfamiliar with – but it was one she had buried deep in the confines of her black heart, even now.

  Despite the time that had passed since her father’s death, despite her suppression of emotion and the blood on her hands – she still felt that flutter in her stomach when faced with a wall full of unread books. No matter how much death she faced, no matter how much violence she witnessed, she was sure her love of books would remain until her very last breath.

  In that moment, as she stared up into Elijah’s eyes, she was reminded of that eagerness once more – to discover a new story…

  His story.

  They say not to judge a book by its cover – and she would fully admit that she had a bad habit of doing just that, reaching for the books with the most intricate and beautiful covers. She imagined Elijah as a dark, alluring and sturdy book with intricate silver detailing, just waiting to be held gently and opened slowly.

  She had a feeling he would take time - lots of time to reveal the details of his chronicle. She imagined it as a carefully woven adventure, shrouded in thick, opaque mist. He had told her he had no memory of his past before being adopted.

  Arii felt almost sheepish now, having judged Elijah so harshly in the beginning. As she stared into his deep, steel grey eyes – she noticed tiny dark flecks in amongst the silver.

  “I do enjoy a bloody good book…” She whispered finally in response to his question, her hands pressing gently upon his chest. Beneath her palms she could feel the steady – albeit slightly quickening – thump of his heart.

  A whole new look shimmered across Elijah’s features. It surprised her just how expressive his face could be, and if he was anything like herself, then the expressions were involuntary. She imagined it to be a look of curiosity but was unsure as it faded just as quickly as it had appeared.

  “It’s strange…” he said, and she felt the gentle press of his palm against her lower back.

  “What is?” she murmured, feeling her cheeks begin to flush under his unblinking gaze.

  “I didn’t think you’d be able to sit still long enough to absorb a book.”

  Her brows began to narrow, heat rising to her cheeks. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  A tiny smirk, then that heart jerking dimple formed on his right cheek.

  Oh.

  Was he… flirting with her?

  Like a fish out of water, she was unable to do anything but open her mouth for a moment.

  “That’s a little harsh, even for you,” was all she could manage, eventually.

  Brows rising, Elijah whispered. “Alright, prove it then. This is my first afternoon off in some time.” His head tilted ever so slightly, his hair brushing across his forehead as he drawled, “Accompany me to the library? That is – unless you have somewhere else to be?”

  Her heart fluttered in her chest.

  This Elijah… this Elijah was new. She was not sure what to make of it – but she could see a haze of hesitation in his eyes despite his words.

  She knew he had walls – heavy steel walls much like her own, wrapped tightly around his defences. It was evident in his movements, in his speech, and the way he hid behind the cloak. This… this was delving way passed his comfort zone, that she was sure of.

  Question was… was she willing to let a tiny bit of her own defences slip in response?

  Her fingers brushed the front of his tunic, delicately plucking at the buttons as she gathered her labyrinth of thoughts. Warmth warred against ice as a small storm began to ripple into existence in her stomach, years of suppression causing her insides to curl into a knot. Between them, warmth stirred. They were close, so close.

  “I appreciate the offer – but…” she paused, biting her lip. She felt she were on the tip of unfamiliar territory once again, and as was her way – she felt the impulsive need to withdraw into herself. Her eyes lifted, meeting his as she rasped, “Tikkani needs me for this… thing.”

  Argh, it took everything within her not to cringe at just how pathetic she sounded.

  Elijah huffed a small laugh, before being the first to step back – his expression nonplussed. He plucked the pot of paint from her grasp, placing it back in the satchel at their feet.

  “Perhaps next time. We should get back,” he said as she watched him pack in silence.

  The moment had passed – whatever that moment had been, and she felt the absence of his warmth like a strike to the chest.

  He straightened, casting his gaze over her and hitching the leather satchel upon his shoulder. “The Viridya library holds some incredible stories, ones I know are hard to find anywhere else. I’m sure Lorch would allow you free access anytime you like,” he said gently.

  As Elijah turned to stride away, Arii was left staring in his wake – uncharacteristically lost for words.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The events of the night she had escaped Viridya Castle with her mother plagued Arii’s young mind in nightmares for weeks afterward, even after they had found haven in Evergrave with a small family of Shifters. Approaching the town, dirty and exhausted, the family took them in without hardly a thought. By this time, everyone in the continent knew of what had transpired in the castle, and what had befallen the royal family. Even now in the present, the memories seemed to slide back into the forefront of her mind unbidden.

  “You gonna eat that?”

  Arii gazed up from her barely-touched stew to the boy sitting across from her, his vivid green eyes fixed on the bowl clutched in her palms. The boy’s hair was long, as dark as a raven’s wings and as shaggy as a dog’s coat.

  “Um, no. I’m not hungry,” said Arii, hesitantly offering the bowl to the boy. He was skinny and lanky, but she noticed that he ate as much as the grown men some nights.

  Where in Fythnar did all that food go?

  “Thanks!” the boy chirped, taking the offering, and digging in.

  Arii watching him wolf down the stew with wide violet eyes.

  “Arii, wash your hands and get ready for bed,” said a gentle voice from a nearby hut.

  Evergrave was a town of elaborately carved wooden homes nestled in amongst the thick, tall trees of the Evergrave Forest in the East Court of Fythnar. Many of the homes were carved into the impossibly large trunks of the ancient pine trees, accessible by winding wood staircases and pulley-operated elevator systems. It had taken Arii some time to get used to the height, often feeling woozy as she slowly made her way across the swaying bridges that joined the homes together in amongst the treetops. At first, she had refused to even be lifted in an elevator, only agreeing when her mother promised to shield her eyes the entire way up.

  She was not terrified anymore, but that did not mean she would be swinging from the branches and flying across the bridges like the boy before her often did. Sh
e took the bridges and stairs with caution, her little face pursed with concern whenever she had to move from one home to another.

  Now the boy was looking back at her, his teeth flashing in a toothy grin as he set down the empty bowl.

  Shortly after they had been taken in, Arii had been approached by the boy, his cheerful grin and playful nature easing the confusion and fear within her. She was hesitant at first, but he persisted and soon the two children were playing together, becoming firm friends. Arii felt she had not smiled in weeks, but Krepth had a way about him that made her forget her worries - just for a little while.

  “Don’t forget, tomorrow I’m gonna show you the rock pools I told you about,” he said, grinning and showing little sharp canines. The Shifters were so much like the Fae, only they did not have inhuman strength and speed, instead their magic gave them the ability to shift into an animal that resonated with their soul. Where Fae could conjure and use their magic in all sorts of ways – the Shifters could not save for a few with healing abilities.

  Arii stood and dusted off her knees, giving the boy a smile. “Oh yes, I can’t wait. Promise you’ll show me how to skip rocks on the water, like you told me about.”

  Krepth gave her a gangly fingered salute as she turned and followed her mother into the little home they were occupying. It was not the biggest home in the treetop town, but it was warm and cosy. Windows had been cut into the walls, shielded with wavy glass that caused droplets of rain to run in random patterns. The room had a little kitchen, the benchtops and cupboards carved from the golden wood of the tree itself, fixed with a silver sink and taps.

  A metal-hedged hearth was set into the wall with a carved flue running up and out, designed for cooking meals inside. There was a lot of wooden texture in the small space, but soft purple cushions on the carved sofa and the soft white down bed across from it helped offset the onslaught of wood. Intricately woven tapestries of forest animals hung around the room, making it more homely than cramped.