She wanted the same. Oriana opened her arms to Marrok.
Without a second of hesitation, he came, chest-to-chest, lips-to-lips.
They’d dated for four years. Having met their freshman year of college, through a mutual acquaintance, Marrok had given Oriana his contact information. When she’d reached out to him, a week later, he’d admitted, “I didn’t think the Matriarch’s daughter would be interested in a guy she met at a werewolf-owned club.”
“Are you saying I’m a snob?” she’d asked, trying to sound light and playful as opposed to offended and well, snobbish.
“Which answer will give me the best chance of you going out with me?”
She couldn’t help it. Oriana had laughed. “I’ve always been a fan of the truth.”
“Then, nope. I never once thought the only child of the Matriarch, reared to become the next Matriarch, would be elitist. Nope, not me. I have no idea why anyone would even think that way.”
She’d laughed again. The tongue-in-cheek approach had been the right move to make with a woman who, indeed, despite her true nature, was often viewed as untouchable, a snob, particularly by the werewolves. In Marrok’s unique way, he’d charmed her, leaving her wanting to know more about the werewolf.
He worked his way down her body, stopping, with a groan, when he reached the top of her jeans.
Oriana felt his frustration. “The ceremony is in a month.”
“Too far away,” he whined into her stomach. Marrok raised his head, sniffing. “This place smells nothing like the cities.”
The look on his face, contented awe she’d never seen before, reaffirmed her commitment to breathing life back into Bronze Ward. She had a gift for Marrok, but that would be many years in the making. She’d have to prove herself as Matriarch of Steelcross, doing all in her power to ensure the success of Bronze Ward. Only then would Kalinda consider her proposal. Perhaps not even then but a thriving Bronze Ward would bolster her argument. Kalinda wasn’t an unreasonable witch just a cautious one.
“No metal. No towers or skyrises. No witch magic. Nothing but fresh, clean air. You should shift. I know you want to.”
“But . . .”
His gaze rose again, and she could sense his desire to run wild and free in his natural form. “I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“You should.” She sat up, forcing him to look at her. “You can. This is what I want to give to the werewolves in my part of the realm. To all of Earth Rift, but that’s a long-term goal that may never happen. But this” —she playfully smacked his chest — “I can give to you now. Go, run, be happy. I’ll return in a couple of hours.”
“You don’t have to leave. I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“As I’ve told you many times before, I’m not afraid of you. But I want you to experience the lake and forest without worrying about what your witch is thinking or feeling. You know the collar will expand to accommodate the shift. But I’ll remove it before I leave, if you like.”
He appeared scared to death at that prospect, so Oriana didn’t push the issue. She stood, found her blouse but didn’t put it on. She may have landed them in Silentrift Lake, but she was fairly certain, without Marrok as a distraction, she could magic jump into her bedroom at Steelrise without anyone seeing her half- dressed and in wet jeans.
Her hair must look a fright. She pushed the wet strands behind her ears. “Have fun. Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”
“How can I? There’s no one else out here.” Marrok popped the button on his jeans, eyes fixed on Oriana, his arched eyebrow and grin a challenge. “As I said, a month is too far away. But, if you’re a very good witch, I’ll give you a sneak peek.”
She gulped, called her magic, and jumped but not before she heard Marrok’s bark of laughter.
June 8, 2240
Steelcross Realm
City of Steelburgh
Crimson Guard Headquarters
“They’re a bunch of animals.” Forehead pressed to a window, Abelone despised the sight below. Not just the creatures walking up and down the steel-smoothed street, but the entire worthless city. Muracos. Filthy. Untrustworthy. Barbaric.
“Every time you come in here, you stare out that window. You just past them. No need to torture yourself by watching them go about their business.”
“They have no business to go about.” Opening the window, she leaned out, aimed her magic, and then spat. Not waiting to see which werewolf it landed on, she slammed and locked the window. Turning, she shrugged at Bharavi’s silent judgment, her head shaking, nose crinkled. “What?”
“That was nasty, even for you.”
“Don’t make it sound as if you care anymore about them than I do.”
Long, blonde hair covering an eye, Abelone considered cutting her asymmetrical bangs to match the rest of her hair. She preferred short and simple to long and annoying. But Bharavi enjoyed running her fingers through the sun-kissed locks, so the too-long bangs but cropped hair was Abelone’s concession to a witch whose shiny midnight hair fell to her waist. Too much for Abelone’s taste but it was silky-soft, like Bharavi, so she didn’t complain. Much.
“Come. Sit. And stop glowering.”
“I don’t take orders from you.” Abelone stalked away from the window to sit in the chair on the opposite side of Bharavi’s desk. Crossing her legs, she let her foot swing forward then back, lightly kicking the desk with each frontward motion. “We shouldn’t be here.” Cocking her head in the direction of the window, but meaning all Steelburgh, she amended, “They shouldn’t be here.”
Dressed in her knee-length white coat, name badge hanging from the breast pocket, Bharavi inclined her head. Dark eyes shimmered with the same disappointment Abelone had seen in the gaze of every guard assigned to Steelburgh.
“At least you don’t have to examine them. They like it too much. The touching, the closeness, the small examination room filled with my scent. I hear them breathing, sharp, greedy inhalations they pull through their noses and pores.”
Forearms that had been leaning on the desk crossed over chest, a self-defense posture Abelone knew well.
“I check their Rage Disrupters, when they arrive. But we both know if it worked properly on them, they wouldn’t be here. They serve no purpose, have no greater goal than to see us dead. Matriarch Kalinda should’ve never cowed to Matriarch Oriana’s whims.”
“Matriarch Kalinda submits to no one, not even her daughter. But she does listen to her, respects her opinions, even when she disagrees.”
The forty-eight-year-old Queller of Eternal Struggles liked Matriarch Oriana--her wit, sensitivity, and intelligence. The girl possessed a kind nature her mother lacked, as well as magical abilities beyond her years. Underneath her kindness, however, was a bullheadedness too common in young witches. Girls Matriarch Oriana’s age thought they knew more than they did, including how the world worked and what needed doing to keep it from disintegrating into chaos. Like keeping Muracos in cages.
“I was thinking.” Bharavi pushed a button on her desk, darkening the window and preventing Abelone from looking out. Not that she could see anything, from her seated position, except for buildings across the street and the graying sky. “We could request a transfer. I’m sure Matriarch Oriana would grant them. She’s reasonable and would likely approve our requests if we explained why we want to change our assignments.”
“She’s a spoiled brat is what she is.”
Bharavi spun around, and Abelone rolled her eyes.
“It’s just Misae in the front office. Your assistant can be trusted. Don’t break out in a sweat. I’ll close the door, if it’ll set your mind at ease.”
“You need to watch what you say about the Matriarch, and where.” Bhavari used the wheels of her chair to slide to the door. Sure enough, Misae sat at her desk, viewing something, probably medical files, on a screen. Bhavari pulled the door closed, feeling guilty about her paranoia but better for the privacy.”
“You look like a kid
rolling your chair back and forth. Stay still, and finish what you were saying.”
“Fine.” Bhavari readjusted her desk chair, the rolling having triggered the height feature. “All I’m saying is that Matriarch Oriana isn’t a spoiled brat. She’s just young. I remember when we were her age.”
Uncrossing her legs, Abelone sat up straighter, wishing she could squelch her worries as easily as she’d adjusted her body in the chair. “We were in our twenties once, true, but we never made decisions that risked our hard-fought place in society. Matriarch Oriana thinks she can tame werewolves. She can’t. She thinks our laws are too rigid and unfair to them. They aren’t. She thinks her kindness will be appreciated and returned. She’s wrong.”
“What if she’s right, Abelone? I mean, it would be nice if werewolves and witches could get along better than we do now or have in the past. What that be so bad?”
Her sweet, conflicted Bharavi. She may have loved the healer, but her vacillations drove Abelone crazy.
“No, not bad, but highly unlikely. You’re the healer. You treat them, researched them. They are as they are. If they weren’t so unstable, our lives would be different. I told you what my father did to my mother.”
“I know, but—”
“She begged him to stop. But he wouldn’t. I hid under my bed, listening to her plead with him. By the time law enforcement arrived, Mom was dead, and Dad was gone. Crimson Hunter Shams tracked him down, killing him before he could murder her like he did Mom.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mom didn’t even fight back. She let him take her away from me without casting a single spell. I hated her for a long time, even while I mourned and missed her.”
“Ah, sweetie.” Bharavi moved from the chair behind her desk to the chair beside Abelone, a surgeon’s hands taking hold of a soldier’s hands. “She loved him too. Your mother didn’t want to die. Most people don’t. Could you use an offensive spell against me?”
“That’s not the same.”
“It is the same. You love me, so you wouldn’t want to hurt me, even if I’m trying to harm you. Your mother loved her husband. She tried to reach the heart and mind that loved her in return.”
“She was sentimental and stupid, and both got her killed.”
Abelone had to be coaxed, by an officer, to come from under her bed. She’d known, when her mother had ceased crying and screaming, that she wouldn’t be coming for her. Abelone had cried, more terrified of being left alone than of hearing her father’s clawed feet outside of her room, her his next victim. That night, when the officer carried her down the stairs, blood on the walls and floors, she’d promised to never be a werewolf’s victim. As soon as she was old enough, Abelone joined the Crimson Guard, and she wouldn’t permit anyone, not even a Matriarch, to threaten the stability of a system intended to protect witches like her mother and little girls like Abelone had once been. Not perfect or flawless, but the system gave more than it took.
Bharavi pressed a kiss to lips that felt too cold, her hands clutching Abelone’s. “It’s all right.”
“It’s not. What Matriarch Oriana has done is dangerous. I know her decisions have come from a good place. She wants to do right by witches and werewolves. But the werewolves will interpret her actions as naivete at best, a weakness worth exploiting at worst.”
“You’re plotting.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. What you haven’t done is acted on what I see percolating in your eyes.”
Dropping her hands, Bharavi shifted to kneel in front of Abelone. So beautiful. She’d been attracted to her from the start, but not because she was the prettiest girl she’d ever seen but because her introverted nature called to her own. They were a good match, their marriage still strong after fifteen years. Her father may have loved her mother, but his love hadn’t prevented him from clawing her chest open and devouring her heart.
“I showed you the announcement. Matriarch Oriana will take Marrok of Wild Moor as her mate next month.”
“They’re a cute couple. I’m happy for her.”
“Why?”
“Because we all want to give love and be loved in return, sweetie. She’s trying to be a good leader.”
“She’s misguided.”
“Yes, she is. But we’ll survive her youthfulness.”
“What if we don’t? What if she keeps giving werewolves more and more rights? What role will her consort play in the government?”
“None. Why should he?”
He shouldn’t, but werewolves in Janus Nether no longer wore collars and Muracos had Steelburgh. Neither should’ve occurred, but both had, thanks to the young Matriarch.
Abelone had already spoken to a few Steelburgh guards, not that she’d told her wife. That argument would come later. The other guards agreed with her. If Matriarch Oriana wouldn’t see what she was doing to Earth Rift and the untenable situations she was creating for her sisters in magic, then they might have to take drastic measures to get Matriarch Kalinda’s attention.
If provided the right motivation, Matriarch Kalinda would step in, ending the werewolf threat. There would be sacrifices. Abelone was prepared to suffer the consequences for her actions. Something else she hadn’t shared with Bharavi.
Encouraging her off her knees, with a gentle tug to her hands, Bharavi got the message, retaking her seat beside Abelone. “Hold off on the transfer requests.”
“Why? You hate it here, and I go where you go.”
She should take her wife the hell away from Steelburgh. Hell, out of Steelcross and Matriarch Oriana’s bleeding-heart policies. But they couldn’t run from this. If left unchallenged, Matriarch Oriana would continue nipping away at the fabric of their matrilineal system, one ill-advised decree at a time.
Perhaps, with a consort in residence, she’d come to see the true nature of werewolves. Abelone’s loyalty to the realm superseded her allegiance to a Matriarch who spat on the legacy of her foremothers.
“I do hate this city. At least with me here, I can help guarantee the animals stay in their cage, a threat to no one.”
“No one but us, you mean.”
“I’d kill them all before I let them hurt any one of us.”
“You’re still plotting.”
“If I am, can I count on you?”
Bharavi kissed her again--longer and sweeter than the last time. “As I said, where you go, I go.”
Abelone didn’t want to die, and she sure as hell wouldn’t wish that fate on her wife. But the future of the realm was more important than their lives.
She did have a plan, one that could end in their deaths.
Misae pretended not to notice when Dr. Bhavari closed her office door. She’d kept her eyes focused on her screen, as if she hadn’t heard Abelone refer to the young matriarch as a “spoiled brat.”
Closing the file, Misae contemplated her next steps. She hadn’t heard much, except for Abelone’s normal grumblings. The witch complained about everything from rainy days to shift hours. The Crimson Guard could be blowing off steam, fussing for the sake of complaining, but nothing more. Yet, Abelone’s serious-angry tone had Misae rethinking her interpretation.
What if Abelone and Dr. Bhavari were planning on doing something they shouldn’t? Then again, what if the privacy they sought had nothing to do with Matriarch Oriana but everything to do with the convenience of spouses working in the same building.
No good ever came from jumping to conclusions. Misae tapped the screen, opening another medical file. Until she knew differently, she’d give Abelone and Dr. Bhavari the benefit of the doubt. She liked Abelone well enough, and respected Dr. Bhavari, although the healer had a few quirks she found strange, although not off-putting.
Still, Misae had been assigned to Steelburgh for a reason, and it wasn’t only because she had experience working with incarcerated Muracos.
She’d keep her eye on the couple. A very close eye.
Moonless Sky
July 3, 2240
Steelrise Realm
Moonvale Forest
“How long are we going to have to wait?” Zev complained, his deep voice loud against the quiet of the still, dark night.
Marrok was about to tell his oldest brother to go screw himself, but Alarick stepped in. “Stop being an asshole.” Alarick shoved Zev, who leaned against one of the towering Red Mahogany trees. “This night isn’t about you. It’s about Marrok, so shut the hell up and relax.”
“I’m just saying. Why in the hell do witches have to take so damn long to do everything?”
“I beg your pardon?”
The brothers snapped around. Zev really was an asshole. Had the jerk forgotten who’d transported them to the forest? The clearing was the same location Oriana had taken them to in May, off the coast of Silentdrift Lake. He’d relished every minute of the two hours Oriana had given him. The time had passed too quickly, Marrok not ready to leave when Oriana had returned for him. She’d promised he’d see the river and forest again soon. Back then, he’d had no idea she’d meant the location to be the spot for their Moonless Sky marriage ritual.
“Present witch excluded, of course.”
Their mother, Lita, five-six, slim with almond-shaped eyes ran her hand through dark, curly hair they’d inherited. Unlike Marrok and his brothers, who kept their hair cut short, Lita’s grew long and thick, a halo of coils as beautiful as the fifty-five-year-old.
“Sorry, Mom,” Marrok said, granting Lita the apology Zev should’ve offered. He walked away from his brothers to his mother. “Thank you for being a part of this.”
“No one says no to a Matriarch.”
Eyes dropped. “Oh, I see.”
He felt the touch of a warm, soft hand to his cheek. “No, you don’t see, and I should’ve stated that differently. “Yes, Matriarch Oriana asked for my presence, but she didn’t make it an order, not even a couched one. She didn’t arrive on my doorstep as Matriarch of Steelrise but as the witch who loves my youngest son.”
Promise Forever: Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist Page 37
