“Stop waiting,” she begged him. “If you don’t want to be here, then go home.”
“And possibly never see you again?” He looked hurt that she’d even suggest it. “You’ve been my lifeline, Tanith. You’re the only good thing in my existence, and I’m a man of my word. We come together. We leave together.”
She sighed. “But what if I stay?”
Kent blinked, pausing and shaking his head. “I don’t think you will. You have too much to lose. Ellesmere. Meelah. Your mother. Coatis. Me. Is this place really worth sacrificing all of that?”
Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her locket. If she stayed, numerically, she’d have more to gain. A new home. Acceptance. A future. A permanent Ellesmere, eventually. Javaid. Riven. Ardeen… Shaw. Then again, it wasn’t the number as much as it was the value of each thing. She still didn’t know which was more important to her, and she felt selfish for admitting it.
“I think I deserve to make that choice for myself.”
There was a knock on the door before it swung open, interrupting Kent and Tanith’s staring contest. Shaw stood in the doorway, fully dressed in his formal silver and black uniform. For a change, his dark auburn hair was pulled back, knotted behind his head, though his warm brown eyes hardened as they looked back and forth between Tanith and his brother.
“Is this a bad time?”
Kent stood, giving Tanith one last look laced with disappointment before facing his older sibling. “No. I was just leaving.”
He slipped by without a word, probably returning to his own room where he’d brood for another day. Shaw didn’t look the least bit surprised as he closed the door, stepping further into the room and casually leaning his shoulder against the bedpost.
“Was Meelah returned alright?”
Shaw nodded in confirmation. “Yes. She was delivered to Ellesmere’s shores and will travel through the continent, across the Devil’s Passage before reaching Ograboden mid-next week. Your mother thought nothing of it, and one of our spies intercepted her letter to my father wishing him well.”
Tanith swallowed, relieved, but tense as though their con could still go awry. “And you took her memory? She won’t remember this place or seeing me again?”
His mouth tensed regretfully. “I’m sorry she didn’t choose to stay.”
“Don’t be. Her calling was always Ellesmere.”
Shaw tilted his head. “And yours?”
History. It was the first thing that came to mind. History was her calling, and she was meant to record it. She’d always known that. She just didn’t know where to do it from; a temporary throne in the human lands, or on Wickenvare forever, without her title.
“I guess I’m still figuring that out,” she admitted. “Did you need something?”
He had the gall to smirk. “Are you so eager to get rid of me?”
“Just curious to know why you showed up here. I’m surprised you had the balls considering your stunt. It still isn’t fair that you forced Meelah through all that.”
Shaw nodded, grin falling. “I know. I regret making that decision without consulting Riven, but can you blame me for my reaction? Truly, would you hate me more or less if I hadn’t tried to stop it?”
Tanith hadn’t thought of it that way. If she and Riven hadn’t come to an agreement, she’d have thanked Shaw for intercepting the ship. Instead, she rebuked him because the king took pity on her and the situation. It was pure luck, and maybe Shaw had gotten the raw end of the deal. He’d been left out of the loop, after all.
“I don’t hate you,” she admitted. “I despise you. There’s a difference.”
His humor was back. “What did I do to deserve that?”
“You’ve already heard most of the list,” she reminded him. “Leaving Kent behind in Shadow Hunt. Pretending you were dead. Showing up again and being a pain in the ass. Tossing Kent overboard. Dangling me above the water. Harassing me on the beach. Lying about having lived here for years after arriving. Tricking me into sleeping with you while being dishonest. Leaving without me in the morning. Stopping Meelah’s ship. Showing up in my room like an absolute nutter…”
“Okay,” he said finally. “I agree, some of those are plausible, but I never tricked you into anything. In fact, if I remember correctly, you came onto me.”
Tanith scoffed. “You were being a jerk! I was just trying to prove a point.”
“By guiding my hand to feel how wet you were,” he reminded, stepping forward. He wrapped his fingers around the wooden armrests of her chair, leaning down to look her in the eye. “You wanted me. You just didn’t know how to ask.”
He looked at her lips then back up again, a silent question. Tanith wasn’t sure what to make of it; if he was trying to prove a point, or if he wanted more.
She pushed herself forward, angling her face away from him to force him back, giving herself room to stand. “I don’t think so,” she said stubbornly, slipping past with a hot meal on her mind.
She never even got to the door because Shaw’s hand was at her arm, tugging her back into his chest as he slipped his arm around her, keeping her pressed solidly against him. “You forgot, I’m really good at telling when people are lying.”
Her breath hitched as she saw the raw hunger in his eyes. He made no further moves, refused to, and she knew why. He wanted her to do it again. In a better state, she might have refused, but it had been a long day and she was frustrated. Just enough to make a move, despite her better intentions.
Tanith grabbed the collar of his silver coat and tugged him down to meet her lips. They met unforgivingly, kissing as though trying to bruise one another with their soft mouths, and Tanith couldn’t get enough.
She felt his fingers tugging at the end of her braid, loosening it so he could dig his fingers into the dark roots and gain better control. Tanith sighed into him as his tongue slowly traced her lower lip, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Do you think this is a trick too?” he asked lowly, studying her carefully.
Once, she might have thought so. A week ago, she could have easily been convinced that Vaere Shaw and his warm body were just another illusion crafted by the invisible island, but she knew desire when she felt it. Recognized it as something she’d felt for him long ago.
They’d been children once and she’d been infatuated with him months before his disappearance. It hit her harder than she’d ever admit to anyone, but what she felt for him then, she understood now. Her attraction to him was undeniable. It always was, and even into adulthood, she’d never been so enamored with anyone else.
Yes, he was a liar, a killer, a thief, and much worse, but he was Shaw. He was the firstborn son of Shadow Hunt, and there was a time that Tanith had found herself in the library, doing her research in romance novels to sort out the pull she felt towards him.
There was a time when she cried herself to sleep at night because she thought he was dead. Because she thought she’d never get the chance to tell him how she felt. Then there was her anger. Her betrayal because he was very much alive. Just not with her.
But now…
“No,” she admitted. “I don’t think it’s a trick.”
It was all the confirmation he needed, rewarding her with a long, slow kiss as he led her backward. Tanith’s knees hit the bed, then her back as he climbed on top of her, his hands roaming beneath the pale blue skirt of her dress, his tongue tracing her collarbone.
“Good,” he whispered against her skin, squeezing her thigh as he settled between her legs.
She pulled his mouth back to hers, claiming his lips with another kiss. He tasted like he’d eaten something mildly spicy, and it burned Tanith in the best way, setting her on fire as she wrapped her legs around him.
Then he pulled back, his eyes void of emotion.
Her heart stalled, a mix of embarrassment and panic running through her. It was a trick. He was playing her. Again.
“I’m sorry,” he said then, shaking his head and blinking twice. He cli
mbed off of her and straightened his coat, leaving her to readjust her skirt. “Mind link. I have to go.”
Tanith eased slightly at the admission. Not a trick. Just an interruption. A very inconvenient one. She nodded and stood, finger-combing the strands of her hair that he’d made a mess of.
“Is it Riven?” she asked.
He shook his head again. “No. My temporary replacement. There’s an issue with a shipment we’re picking up today.”
She grinned slightly. “Still grounded?”
“Like a child,” he confirmed, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll check on you later. Try to stay out of trouble, will you?”
“No promises,” Tanith countered, causing him to shake his head as he slipped out the door.
She dropped back onto the bed with a sigh, her heartbeat finally slowing down. Now there was another mess of things to figure out.
Her interest in Shaw.
The infatuation hadn’t dimmed in so many years, but she’d already had him. Kissed him. Slept with him. She wondered when the feeling would dim, if at all. She wondered what Kent would think. He was already upset with her, but this… There was a reason she never mentioned she had an eye for his older brother.
Back then, she couldn’t even admit it to herself, but now… He was another option to consider, but perhaps the most versatile one. When he was done being grounded, he’d sail to and from the human lands again. She could still see him, even if she didn’t remember the last week they’d spent on the island.
As Tanith readied for dinner, she tried to squash her problems into a few questions that needed to be solved. What was she going to do when her three weeks were over? What would be the deciding factors in the meantime? And what was she going to do about Vaere Shaw?
CHAPTER 22
Tanith took breakfast in her room the next morning, waking with the rising sun and not frowning at the dresses Kenna brought in for a change.
“Those are stunning,” she admitted, watching her maid lay the fabrics out all around the room. “But I thought you were only bringing two?”
“That was the plan,” the blonde admitted, “but King Riven went shopping, and here we are. He thought you’d look like a queen in any one of these, so which do you want today?”
Truth be told, she was still craving pants, but she could never complain about anything as grand as any of the pieces in front of her.
Most of them were grayscale, ranging between white, grays, and blacks, but there were a few pops of color here and there. The one draped over the couch drew her eye, a harsh black piece that wouldn’t be too insufferable in the island heat. It had thick straps and no sleeves, ruffles leading to a heart-shaped bodice. The skirt was voluminous, probably knee-length and there were ruffles on the hem too. It was the most casual of them all, the vast majority being long gowns fit for any royal event, so she pointed towards it immediately.
“That one.”
Kenna almost looked disappointed as she snatched it up, helping her change and tying her hair into a high ponytail. “The king said you’d want your hair out of your face today.”
She hummed but didn’t argue as she slipped on a pair of shoes and watched Kenna try to fit all the gowns in the wardrobe. It was a huge piece on its own, but whether or not they could all be stuffed inside was to be determined.
“Come in,” Kenna called.
Tanith frowned, certain no one had knocked when the door opened, and Riven stepped through with a content smile. He wore a black shirt and dark trousers, scanning Tanith’s outfit in appreciation.
“I knew that would be breathtaking on you. I trust you find the others suitable?”
She nodded. “More than, though I wish you’d have told me you were going shopping to expand my wardrobe. I could have given you some tips.”
“Next time I’ll take you with me, and you can model them in the stores,” he countered.
“Next time?” she wondered. “Are you planning to overwhelm me with an influx of clothing?”
The king shook his head. “I would never. There are nineteen dresses. One for every day you have remaining here until you make your decision. If you decide to stay, I’d be more than happy to take you shopping for more.” He held out his hand, gesturing towards the door. “Now, are you ready?”
Tanith nodded, stepping out first and leaving Kenna to her organization. “Library?”
Riven smiled nodding and starting off in the right direction. “Library. I figured I couldn’t keep you from it any longer. The historians are thrilled to meet you. I think they want an interview if I’m being honest.”
“And they live here?”
“No. Some choose to live in the same housing as the maids and guards. Some live in the city,” he explained.
Tanith’s brows drew together in confusion. “But you said I could live in the palace if I stayed and pursued history.”
“I thought I might have to sweeten the pot for you,” he admitted, looking down at her with a small grin. “You are a princess, after all. You’re used to a certain standard, and I think it’s only fair to meet that. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to see you at the breakfast table every morning either,” he admitted.
Tanith wasn’t sure how to respond. If she did stay, she certainly wasn’t going to give up a chance to spend her days in the grand structure, but she also didn’t want to be unfair. Then again, there wasn’t room for everyone.
“Here we are,” he dictated as he opened the library door.
She entered to see it wasn’t empty for the first time. There were two men and a woman seated around a square table, stacks of books on the edges and new half-written documents in front of them. They looked up curiously before bowing their heads at the king.
“Your Majesty,” the woman greeted. She had wavy brown hair to her collarbone and slanted green eyes, her skin on the pale side.
“Good morning, Yamra,” he greeted. “This is Tanith Estiellon. I’m sure you know all about her, but like I told you the other day, she’s shown an interest in becoming a historian. This is where I leave you, but please, show her how you do things.”
Yamra nodded, gesturing to the open seat. “Of course. There’s something to learn on both ends, I think.”
“When should we have her out of here?” one man asked. He was thin and tall with cropped hair and black skin.
Riven waved off the question. “Take your time. We have no other plans today.”
He took his leave, glancing up at Leevi in the observatory as he looked down through the net before attending to more important matters.
“So, Tanith, have you ever personally stepped foot into the royal treasury of Ellesmere?” The question came from the only other man, a brawny, brown-skinned fellow with floppy black curls and charming dimples.
Yamra looked offended by the question. “Nathem! You can’t just ask things she’s not at liberty to discuss.” She faced Tanith with a silent apology. “Don’t mind him. Nathem’s nosy, but you get used to it. I’m Yamra, and that’s Cliff. He’s pretty blunt and very straightforward, so if you think he’s being mean, just consider that in his eight-hundred years of living, he hasn’t learned how to sugarcoat anything.”
Tanith looked at the dark-skinned man in surprise. “You’re eight-hundred?”
“Eight hundred and twelve,” Cliff corrected. “The oldest remaining historian in the royal library. I took over for my father five hundred years ago and these two have been a thorn in my side ever since they arrived.”
“Love you too, Cliff,” the curly-haired man cooed. He turned to Tanith. “I’ve been working here for thirty-four years. Relatively new by fae standards.”
Yamra jumped in then. “And I’ve been working here for three-hundred and ninety-six years. Before I arrived, I worked with some historians in the city for a few decades. That’s where most get their start.”
“But lucky you,” Cliff said, dragging his eyes down Tanith in a way she would have found judgmental if Yamra
hadn’t already apologized for him. “You get to jump right into the big leagues.”
“If I stay,” Tanith corrected.
Yamra’s green eyes went wide. “You still haven’t decided?”
“What’s stopping you?” Nathem wondered, running the feather of his quill pen over one of his dimples as though purposely trying to draw her eyes to it.
Tanith shrugged. “There’s lots to consider, as I’m sure you know. Starting a new life isn’t exactly the easy option.”
Cliff raised a dark brow. “Is that what you look for? The easy options.”
There was a brief silence before Yamra spoke up. “You don’t have to decide now. People have taken months in the past, so it isn’t unusual. I just thought that if the king brought you here, it was because you already decided to stay.”
“Well, I haven’t,” she confirmed, wiping her clammy palms on the fabric of her dark skirt.
“Maybe there are some questions we could answer for you,” Nathem suggested. “If there were ever anyone to ask about Wickenvare, we’d be the people with the answers.”
The others nodded in agreement and Tanith considered the offer. Riven had answered everything that immediately came to mind, but after the evening before with Shaw… she had one more question that she was too embarrassed to ask the king.
“There is one thing I was curious about,” she began, mustering up her bravery and hoping they wouldn’t laugh at her. “I was never much for fiction, especially lore, but I did read a few pieces every now and again. Some had mentioned the fae, and in those texts, they would have something called mates. Are those real?”
For a moment, no one answered. Then Cliff spoke up. “No.”
Yamra glanced at him and nodded. “Yes, they do.”
“There’s no reliable historical evidence,” Nathem cut in. “Just old tales made by hopeless romantics.”
“That’s not true,” Yamra insisted. “Mates do exist. It’s said that they’re part of the Ghods blessing, but no one will discover their mates until the humans have died off. Once the world is filled with fae, soulmates can finally thrive. Until then, all the bonds are stagnant,” she explained.
Tanith & Shaw (The Fealty of Firstborns Series Book 1) Page 19
