Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  "She fled to her compound, and began planning."

  "What did she plan?" Bastien prompted impatiently. He calmed at Carwyn's hand on his arm.

  "She began draining immortals over the years. Never so many as to draw suspicion but just enough. She harnessed their energies into a weapon."

  “That’s why my dryads were disappearing,” Corsin surmised; he fiddled with his rich violet robes then leaned back. “Creatures of the earth being taken back into the fold.”

  Eleste's eyes widened, as did Bram and Kaelen's. Everyone else looked suitably perplexed.

  "She could threaten to destroy any city, any kingdom," he added. "And with the deirach elixir..."

  "She could kill the gods," Nerys finished shakily.

  Several mouths dropped. Emrys tilted back in his chair and whistled. "Well, that's some plan."

  "We have the deirach elixir now," Lyra said as she twisted her shirt cuffs nervously. "What are her next steps?"

  Just then, a loud knock resounded through the house, causing several people to jump.

  Bram looked to Kaelen, giving him a reassuring smile before leaving to go to the door. Second, later, a ginger cat bounded in. I instinctively palmed my knife, as did several others.

  Lavinia walked in next, followed by a grim-faced Bram. Alaric's eyes were angry slits as he stalked up to her, slamming his hand around her neck and pushing her up against the door.

  "Give me one good reason not to kill you," he snarled.

  "Can- help-" she gasped as her face slowly turned red. Azael walked over, laying a gentle hand on Alaric's shoulder and motioning for him to let her go. Alaric did so angrily, stalking back to his seat but keeping a firm eye on Lavinia.

  Callisa motioned for her to continue while Velis hopped on an unused chair and sat.

  Tears ran down her face as she began speaking. “I’m so sorry, I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. You all were gone, no one knows where adamanteis is, she threatened Velis, and I was scared. I thought if I complied, she’d have me do basic spells and herbs, but then you came to me, Aeryn, and she commanded that I do the spellwork to control your powers.”

  “I understand, Lavinia.” I looked at Azael. “The stakes change when someone you love gets involved.”

  “I can help,” she said eagerly. “I can help free Sinaia if you know where she’s held, and I can remove the spell on Aeryn.”

  “Why help now?” Carwyn asked suspiciously.

  “I deeply regret my actions, and I want to help. I have allies now, support. I am no longer a lone witch, available to be targeted. Please,” she begged, “let me help.”

  “I, for one, would be grateful, Lavinia,” I said softly. I traced the back of my neck, expecting raised skin but feeling none.

  Alaric spoke quietly. “I know where she is hidden. We need to hurry in case Theia moves her. She’s in an eternal sleep in a cave near the town of Silvaria.”

  How fitting, that the beginning of the end would occur where everything first began for me, I thought to myself. I fiddled with the ends of my hair. I would be seeing the person who practically raised me. The goddess who was like a mother to me. Who visited me in my dreams and clothed me in dresses, laughed with me, comforted me. No longer a figment of my imagination but real, and true, as true as Callisa standing beside me.

  Alright, love? Azael asked in my mind.

  I’m fine, I sighed back, feeling exhausted. He picked up on my cue quickly, and after we made plans to leave in the morning, followed behind me up the stairs to the room I had been using.

  I was reclining my head against the cool tile wall behind the tub, eyes closed, mind drifting, when suddenly a voice echoed around the bathroom walls.

  "Tired, love?"

  I gave a small, undignified shriek before turning to glare at Azael, standing against the wall in just his dark trousers.

  "Why must you do that? Make some gods damned noise," I grumbled, crossing my arms under the bubbles.

  He was fighting a smile, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Sorry."

  I frowned. "You damn well are not." I eyed his unclothed torso appreciatively before bringing my glare back up to his face.

  His facade cracked, giving way to a sharp laugh as he pushed off from the wall and gave me a firm greeting kiss.

  "I truly am sorry," he murmured against my lips. "But can you blame me? The sounds you-"

  He cut off with a yell as I splashed water from the tub onto his body.

  Then I was cackling, a devious glint in my eye, I was sure.

  "Oh, you asked for it," he growled, stalking back to the tub, ignoring my protests as he slipped one pants-clad leg in after another. He draped his body over mine, spilling water over the sides of the tub and onto the white tiles below.

  "Stop!" I shrieked while laughing, pushing against his now soaking wet body in an attempt to regain my space.

  "Never," he nipped my lower lip and moved one leg between my thighs, the fabric causing the most delicious friction. I moaned, clutching his neck, and pulling him in for a wet sloppy kiss.

  “Mmm, this is just what I needed,” he mumbled against my lips.

  “Azael,” I cautioned him. He turned his pale silver eyes onto mine. “Please, tell me how you feel about Alaric being back, now that he’s seen Elias.”

  He sighed, moving behind my body so that he was cradling me. “I missed him greatly, mourned him so strongly…” He played with a piece of my hair, his skilled fingers twirling it around and around. “I’m happy,” he finally decided. “And surprised, worried that he’s been through so much without us by his side, worried that he’s changed just like us.” He held me tighter and rested his chin on my shoulder. “I’m so glad he’s alive,” he whispered.

  “I am too,” I whispered back, turning my head to give him a gentle kiss. “Let’s go rest.”

  He groaned in protest, palming my breast, and looking at me forlornly.

  “Come on, you horny bastard,” I laughed, getting out and enveloping myself in the fluffy white guest towel.

  He followed behind me, drying himself off as well and changing into clothes he had brought over.

  I was enveloped by his arms on the bed; his body was firm and stable behind me. The drapes were drawn, the room silent and dark. I felt a pressure in my chest, though I did not know what. Azael was warm, a comforting presence, but something felt off. I stared into the darkness, shapes appearing from nothing.

  I was startled when I felt a tear streak down my face. I sniffled slightly, not wanting Azael to hear. Of course, he heard it. “What’s wrong, love?” He said, the picture of concern. He turned me over to face him, gently using his index finger to wipe away the lone tear.

  “It’s dark, I- I can’t-” I stuttered. It felt like the walls were closing in on me again, like I was back in that cell on the dirty floor using a rock to count the days. I was terrified. I hated how weak I felt, how fragile and delicate. I began to shake, to curl in on myself. He wrapped around me tightly, like he could hold me together with his touch.

  “It’s alright,” he murmured. “You’ll be alright.” He whispered endearments and platitudes for a long while as he stroked my hair and slowly brought me down. Then he got up and drew the drapes back, letting in the moonlight.

  Next, he walked over to the fireplace and started a fire, stoking it to make sure it stayed, sending embers scattering. When he came back over to the bed to wrap me up once more, the room was glowing. I rested my head on his muscled chest, sliding a leg over his and holding him tightly. He smelt like pine, and I nuzzled my head into his shirt to absorb some of his warmth.

  I was still frightened, still embarrassed to be frightened. I probably would be for a long time. I could see how Azael carried the scars of what had happened to him. Some nights he woke up with tears running down his face; others, he had to go for a walk in a bright place, to feel the artificial light during the night hours. And now it was me that needed the help. I had thought the nightmares of t
he murders were terrible, but the nightmares where I was carved into were worse. I knew he was all too happy to do it, though, all too happy to take care of me. He had been there for me when we were imprisoned; he was selfless, slightly mad, caring, gentle, and fierce. He took what he wanted when he wanted it, and I loved it. I loved him, I realized. I loved that he put the others first, that he cared so deeply. I loved that he was so playful; I loved all his mad parts, all his sane parts. Loved that weightless feeling our banter gave me, the warmth that exploded whenever he was near, lips on mine, hands linked.

  “I think I love you,” I murmured into his chest.

  “Sorry, what?” He said incredulously.

  I lifted my head, like I was beleaguered. When in reality, my heart was racing, set to explode right out of my chest. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingers and toes, pounding. “IsaidIloveyou.”

  He smiled widely, his pearly teeth shining along with his eyes in the low light. “One more time, please,” he begged me. His eyes were sparkling.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “I love you.” An involuntary smile spread across my face as I bit my lip and waited for him to answer.

  He pulled me into him, holding me tightly; I laughed, rocking with him as he leaned his forehead against mine. “I love you too,” he whispered, his minty breath washing over me. I kissed him softly, sliding into his lap to rest against his chest. We kissed languorously, a passionate meeting of our tongues. I leaned closer, so that my core rested against his arousal and rocked slowly, feeling him get impossibly hard, until he finally begged. “Please,” his eyes flashed, “stop teasing me,” he growled. The way it should be, where he begged only me and me alone.

  I smirked, sliding my way down his body, and leaving kisses the entire way. I teased him slowly, sucking on his hip bone before blowing gently on his inner thigh. “Ah- Aeryn,” he moaned.

  I moved closer to where he wanted, blowing alternatively hot and cold before licking a long stripe. I traced my fingers along his thighs, feeling his coarse hair under my hands as I gripped him hard. I took him into my mouth and moved slowly, letting my hand take over what I could not. Wanting to reward him, to make him feel good. I began to bob up and down his length, and he let his hand drift to my hair, grabbed a handful, and pulled it gently. I may have been performing, but I felt powerful, in control. He writhed under my attentions, moaning as I swirled my tongue; I worked him until he was a whimpering mess, then finally let him slide deep into my throat.

  “Goddess, yes! Don’t stop, Aeryn, please don’t stop,” he groaned. He mumbled nonsensical statements while I kept a steady pace. I loved watching him become speechless, watching his composure crack.

  Finally, he put a halting hand on my head, “if you don’t stop-” he panted. “Please let me inside you.” I bobbed one last time, wiping my mouth with my hand, and working my way up his body. He kissed me fiercely, and I found myself hot and wet, knowing he could taste himself on my tongue. He spread me open using his lithe fingers, getting me ready for him in small, steady strokes. He rubbed me slowly, teasing me until I felt that I would be the one begging. I moved his hand aside, desperate to feel him inside me, and began sliding down his length slowly. I bit my tongue to withhold my loud moan at the stretch and stopped when he laid a soft hand on my cheek and told me, “don’t hold back from me. I want to see it all.”

  So I gave him my all, using my thighs to pound down mercilessly. I moaned loudly, throwing my head back and feeling the sparks throughout my body, the delicious warmth that was spreading. Ecstasy.

  I thrust a hand in his pale curls, leaning into him as he stroked his hands over my body reverently. My breasts were flat against his chest, the pressure delicious. Our breath mingled, hot and fast with our movements.

  I was so close. Listening to him moan and pant as he rested his forehead on mine, I was close to finishing. He saved me from the act of waiting and began shaking uncontrollably. “I’m going to- I need to,” he gasped. I nodded, fortunately having procured a tonic from Lavinia. He threw his head back as he spent himself, the cords in his neck straining with the effort. I bit into the column of his neck gently, following right behind him, the warmth of the fire heating my body and reflecting off my sweaty skin. I felt euphoria explode in me and moaned in response, collapsing on his chest and feeling the aftershocks rhythmically squeeze him, causing quiet moans to escape his mouth.

  “Holy gods, you are a gift.” He said, looking at me in awe. I smiled shyly, stroking his damp hair back from his face.

  “And you are mine, my love.”

  Several hours later, I awoke to screaming. But as I looked around, I did not see the estate; no, I saw the sun palace. Theia was standing nearby, dressed in trousers with a long dress splitting down the middle over them. All around me, people were being struck down and subdued; Alaric lay prone in front of Theia, seemingly unbreathing. Azael faced away from me, making a keening sound at his brother’s body and his sister in supplication.

  That was when it hit me; I was in Azael’s dream. I had traveled and done something new, watched the events at solstice unfold with him in his nightmare.

  “Azael,” I whispered, wary of startling him.

  He turned to me with a wrecked look, tears running down his face, his pale hair matted with stress and sweat.

  I snapped my fingers, changing the dream to a garden. It had flowers in abundance, the moon was shining, and trees lined the edges, blocking the great beyond. He fell to his knees where he stood.

  I sank to my knees and pulled his head into my lap, cradling his trembling body as best I could. My long hair spilled over his body and shifted with my movements as I gently rocked back and forth. He lifted his arms to clutch my waist tightly as I murmured reassurances. With his face burrowed into my lap, I doubted he could hear my whispers, but they soothed me just a little. It was agony seeing him in pain, someone who had worn a mask his entire life, who held back his smiles and his laughs until scowling was all he seemed capable of. I had never seen his veneer crack to that extent before. My tears trailed down my face and fell into his hair.

  "Shh, my love. You're okay. We're okay," I crooned as he shuddered. I felt a distinct dampness where his tears were soaking through my blouse. I felt a surge of anger, so much anger that this beautiful broken man had been dealt such a rough hand, that he couldn't seem to catch a break. I gently turned his face to mine before pressing a gentle kiss to his brow, his temple, over his closed eyelids, and finally to the tears tracking his cheeks.

  "I'm sorry," he rasped. I shook my head calmly before settling him back into my arms. I stroked his hair as I sat with him, quietly murmuring and humming as the hours passed and the sun rose in the sky. I vowed to myself that I would seal every new crack in his heart. That I would replace every tear with a happy memory and shower him with so much love that he would struggle to feel the darkness on the nights I couldn't be there. He gave one last shudder, and I watched him collect himself and rebuild his walls. He clung to me a few moments longer before he turned his face up to mine, once more struggling to apply the picture of composure. Though his eyes red-rimmed and a stark blue, a beautiful luminescent cyan that I would never have found if I weren’t watching him break.

  "I love you," I whispered, voice cracking. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

  He kissed me gently, tasting of salt and pain, affection and devotion, then gently pushed my hair back from my face and stood, reaching a hand out to pull me up.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Got anything better?” Asrian taunted as he ran from left to right. The gift he received from the goddess of love was speed, and he was damn good at it. He could move from one end of the training field to the other in several seconds. He was trained impeccably, moving too fast for me to hit him with the moon bolt.

  He had agreed to help me train, being the only person who could serve as a moving target.

  “I don’t want to!” I yelled. “What if I hurt you?”

  “Don’t fail me, Aeryn. Show me wha
t you can do.” I grounded my feet, felt the earth flow up my calves and thighs. The sun shone down on my face, heating my features, and I resisted the urge to shield my eyes. The breeze carried the scents of fire and flowers, a combination I never thought I would smell.

  I felt the power rise in response to my request, filtering through my body and roiling in my chest. I sent it exploding outwards, jolting back from the kick and moving my mark slightly off from where Asrian was running to right in front of him.

  “No!” I screamed, watching it in slow motion. The silver power crackled as it traveled, moving at the speed of light. It hit Asrian on his chest, sending him flying backward and into a tree. Asrian, who had taken me aside to offer me special training, who had allowed me to try one of his special tarts that he baked. And how his eyes twinkled when he told a joke that made others laugh, who included me in everything even though I had only just met him.

  Azael jogged from the sidelines onto the scene, rushing to Asrian’s side to check on him. “Holy gods,” I murmured, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “He wanted you to hit him,” Callisa said softly, approaching from my right. “That was the whole point.”

  “I didn’t think I actually would! I didn’t want to cause him pain,” I exclaimed, running to Asrian. He was prone on the dirty ground, unconscious. His chest was bloody and smoking, and his face was pale and drawn. His russet hair was matted with sticks and bark.

  “Goddess,” I moaned, feeling sick and upset. My body ached with guilt, and tears began falling rapidly. I looked at my hands, my unblemished hands. I felt like they should be covered in blood, or scratches. Not capable of harming others with no harm to myself. Could I really handle this power? Was I responsible enough to hold it?

  “He’s going to be alright, Aeryn; he’s immortal. He will heal.”

  “I know, but the pain, look at what I did!” I gestured to his smoking shoulder, the cracked tree. Corsin fixed it with the swoop of his hand, looking to me with concern on his brow.