Fates Entwined

by Jules Barnard

  Simply making everyone happy wouldn’t do it, because some of these men were bloodthirsty. They got off on the power of taking a life. No—it had to be kindness, contentment, and love that she spread.

  Reese closed her eyes, and this time she thought of her love for her friends, her love for Keen, the contentment of finding her place in the world, and projected the emotions into the room. She focusing it on each point at which she sensed anger, a thirst for blood or violence, and greed.

  Bit by bit, a change came over the room, with the exception of one target. But his emotions were worry and determination, not hate.

  Reese opened her eyes and saw Keen staring at her. He looked around at the men who’d slowly stopped fighting.

  With their two abilities blocking one another, Keen couldn’t listen in on her thoughts, and she could never read his emotions. It made sense he wouldn’t be affected by her new power.

  But when Reese looked up at Portia, she too seemed unaffected. And Portia was staring straight at Reese with all the hatred and anger her soldiers now lacked.

  Portia stepped forward and grabbed a gun from the holster of the closest Oldlander guard—and shot it straight at Reese.

  A roar erupted from Keen.

  The blast echoed in Reese’s ears, and she grabbed her chest, wiping feverishly at the film covering her. Not blood. Portia had stolen a null gun, eliminating Reese’s powers and her ability to calm the room.

  Just as quickly as the anger had disappeared, it seemed to fill the space again. Fighting broke out like before, except this time, Reese found herself surrounded by guards. They lifted her, kicking and screaming, and took her toward Portia.

  Keen was battling four men at once—his own men attempting to hold him back from reaching her.

  Portia glanced at one of her head guards. “Bring in the rest of the soldiers. The ones infected with the modified disease. Show these”—her expression turned to one of disgust—“poor excuses for warriors what it means to have absolute power.”

  Her gaze landed on Reese, still struggling in the arms of Portia’s men. “And you. I tolerated your filthy presence, but I see diplomacy is overrated.” She looked over Reese’s head, and Reese turned too. Keen had broken away from the guards and stood behind her, staring at the queen.

  “Kill her, Keen Albrecht.”

  34

  Reese wasn’t sure how it happened. One moment she was being held by several of Portia’s guards, the order for her to be killed ringing in her ears, and the next minute, she witnessed something she believed impossible.

  Keen lunged forward and stabbed Portia through the chest.

  Portia looked down in confusion, the men around her nearly ripping Keen’s arms out of his sockets as they detained him, and then Portia laughed. She bent over, holding the gaping wound pouring blood down her amethyst gown, and laughed manically.

  She came up for air seconds later and wiped tears from her eyes. “You broke your oath to protect me, you fool.” The rush of blood from her wound had already slowed. “And your attack was sloppy—my heart is intact—though I suppose that’s because you’re forbidden to harm me. I’m surprised you managed to get this close.” She tsked. “Didn’t you know your oath would protect me, even if you didn’t? You would never have hit my heart, no matter how precise your attack. And now you will die for it.”

  Keen groaned and wrenched his arms from the guards. He clamped his hands on either side of his head and sank to the ground.

  “Keen!” Reese fought to break free from the guards holding her. “What’s happening?”

  The nasty white-blond Fae who’d tried to kill her earlier tightened his grip. “Death, you filthy Halven. Death comes to those who break an oath.”

  “But he did it for me! He can’t die.”

  The guard grabbed her chin and twisted her face toward him. “And what a waste it was.”

  She jerked away and stared after Keen. He was writhing, his pale skin ashen.

  Reese began yanking and pulling with all her strength, her mind suddenly taking in everyone’s emotions, unable to control her own, let alone block the others. Anger, pain, frustration, exuberance—they came from all directions and she couldn’t block any of it. Not while her emotions swung out of control.

  The guard held her tightly and lowered his mouth toward her ear. “He dies, and then you will. Slowly. Painfully—”

  Before he’d finished his sentence, Reese swung her head back and cracked her skull into his nose.

  Keen wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it.

  The Fae behind her grunted, and she didn’t wait for him to react. She slammed the heel of her booted foot into his shin. His grip finally faltered, but when he didn’t let go of her completely, she slammed her arm back and hit him where it hurt. Again, not the most sporting move, but effective.

  The blond Fae coughed and dropped his arms from around her immediately. The others nearby were too busy watching Keen die a slow and painful death—that no one ever died from because they never broke their oaths—to care that she’d fought her way free.

  Reese rushed through the crowd and knelt beside Keen. “How do I make it stop?”

  “Can’t,” he said.

  One word? That was all she got from the guy who loved to tell her what to do whether she wanted to hear it or not?

  “Why did you do it?” she screamed as tears streamed down her face.

  Sweat beaded on his brow, blood dripping from his ears and nose. Reese lay over him, pressing her ear to his still beating heart. She didn’t care that he was married to another.

  He was her love.

  He’d given his life for her.

  In that moment, her emotions overwhelmed her—hers, no one else’s. Sadness, fear, and love…so much love.

  Her flesh tingled, her heartbeat hammering. An energy filled her until all that emotion burst in an invisible wave and flooded the room, the effects of the null gun having worn off.

  While the Fae around her stood in a stupor born of Reese’s emotions, she went straight for Portia, taking out a knife and aiming it at the older woman’s heart.

  Reese had never killed before. But she wanted to right now.

  Portia’s eyes narrowed. She was the only Fae not affected by Reese’s ability. She allowed Reese to get closer, her emotions eerily calm. But Reese wasn’t worried about that.

  She should have been.

  Reese thrust her arm forward, aiming for Portia’s heart—and hit a wall.

  Portia smiled from two feet to the right, no longer standing in front anymore. “A glamour. You really should educate yourself on the powers of your betters.” Portia knocked the knife from Reese’s hand, and pulled out her own, dragging Reese to her chest and placing the knife at Reese’s throat.

  “Let him go,” Reese said. “Don’t let him die because of me. He’s the best warrior you have.”

  Portia laughed. “A fool in love with a fool. I have no use for him. And I have no control over the angel’s oath. None of us do. It’s why we are so careful not to lie. And now he’s sacrificed himself for nothing. Pity.”

  The knife cut into Reese’s throat and her eyes searched for Keen. His head was drawn back, anguish contorting his handsome features. But he saw her in Portia’s arms, and that seemed to have him writhing on the ground even more.

  Keen was dying. And Reese would too.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

  And then all sound ceased.

  A light flashed, blinding. The air in the room rushed out in what felt like a vacuum, and Reese choked, unable to breathe. When she was able to catch her breath again, the room looked normal, except for the large shadow of a tall Fae leaning over Keen.

  The shadow was just that, all dark translucence, with a bright yellow glow that silhouetted its masculine figure.

  He leaned down and touched Keen’s head with one finger.

  Keen coughed and rolled to his side, panting and shaking. He looked up at the figur
e, then back at Reese, his focus clearer.

  Reese didn’t know what was going on, but Portia tightened her grip.

  “No,” Portia gasped. “He broke his oath.” Her voice quivered as rivulets of fear rolled off her.

  Reese reached for the knife, but Portia was digging it into the base of her throat. Blood dripped onto Reese’s hand.

  Keen climbed to his feet, his eyes on Reese as he followed the shadow toward Portia.

  Let the Halven go, child, the shadow said. Only the voice wasn’t out loud. It was inside Reese’s head.

  It seemed Portia had heard it too. She shook. “He broke his oath.”

  But the Halven did not.

  “She is nothing. She is weak, an abomination. I do our forefathers a service by eliminating her.”

  You would kill her out of pride, not justice. The Halven you hold is of my blood, and you will release her. Now.

  Reese actually heard Portia swallow, but she didn’t let Reese go.

  And then Portia had no choice, because one minute Reese was locked against Portia’s chest, barely able to breathe, with a deep gash in her neck, and the next minute she was alone.

  The dark figure held Portia suspended without touching her. The only one who has disobeyed the rules is you, my child. Your punishment is to leave this land forever.

  And then Portia and the glowing shadow were gone.

  And Keen was pulling Reese into his arms.

  Everybody in the room, every face, appeared stunned.

  “What just happened?” she mumbled into his strong chest, her arms locking around his waist. She breathed in his scent—the familiar cedar with a touch of metal from the knives and sword he hid in his clothes. He was alive.

  Keen swept a large hand over her head, burrowing his face into her hair.

  “The angels returned.”

  35

  Reese leaned back, still wrapped in Keen’s arms, and looked up. “I thought the angels weren’t ever coming back.”

  “They weren’t. Their arrival after millennia of absence was most strange, to say the least.”

  She stared off in the distance, remembering. “On the emotions scale, Portia was off-the-chart evil when I compare her to everyone else. Do you think that had anything to do with it?”

  “Possibly.” He brushed his thumb along her jaw.

  “You were willing to give your life for me.” She took a shaky breath. “I couldn’t sense your emotions—I still can’t—but I’m willing to bet they were the complete opposite of Portia’s. The angel might have saved you because your heart was pure and hers wasn’t.”

  “The angel didn’t simply save me—he saved you and called you his descendant. If your theory is true, he believed you pure, half-blood or not. And he made a point of letting everyone present know you are special to him, which makes our prejudice toward Halven all the more disconcerting.”

  He shifted her to his side and looked around at the stunned faces of his countrymen. “Elena Rosales, daughter of Theodora Joelle Rainer Rosales, rules this land now. You will bow to your queen.”

  Elena and Derek’s soldiers did so at once, and slowly the Newlander guards did as well.

  Just like that, New Kingdom had switched hands. Fae didn’t mess around. When one ruler left, another moved in.

  And then Keen did the strangest thing of all.

  He grabbed her hand. “Where is the officiant? He will marry us.”

  Keen was dragging her toward the front of the room where Portia had stood upon the dais, and Reese’s footsteps froze. “You married Illa, remember?”

  He looked down at her, his expression soft. “I did not. I…delayed the ceremony, realizing I’d rather betray my kind than betray you.”

  “You’re not married?”

  He didn’t answer the question, merely twisted his mouth and continued talking. “Though living with you will be problematic, as you seem to defy all of my commands—”

  “Because your commands suck,” she said, tears of happiness filling her eyes.

  “But I cannot live without you, and it seems no other will do. We will marry. Besides, you could be carrying my child.”

  Reese blinked. “Okay, first of all, I’m not pregnant. I’m on the Pill.”

  “The pill?”

  “Birth control. So I can’t get pregnant.”

  A dark cloud formed behind Keen’s emerald eyes, turning them nearly black. “Absolutely not. You will stop taking this pill. Once we marry—”

  “Hold up there, buddy. Who says we’re getting married? I don’t remember you asking.”

  He sighed and dropped to one knee.

  He was serious? And Fae proposed on one knee like humans?

  Keen grabbed her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers with such tenderness—and blatant sexuality—that the backs of her knees tingled. “Reese Fisher of the Radnors, will you marry me?”

  Her eyes grew wide. This handsome, powerful Fae—with a nasty attitude when he didn’t get his way—was asking her to marry him?

  He could marry a princess. If Derek’s father hadn’t murdered Keen’s family and taken over Old Kingdom all those years ago, Keen would be a prince or a king. He was beautiful, passionate, stubborn—and he was hers. He wasn’t taking her for granted, or underestimating her. He was proposing marriage.

  “Do you love me?”

  His gaze didn’t waver. “I love you. I will treat you as my queen and protect you and our children.”

  Children.

  He was serious about this kid thing. The guy who at one point didn’t want to touch her for fear she’d get pregnant from the brush of his arm and create one more Halven in the world?

  “I love you, you stubborn Fae, but I can’t marry you right now.” This time his face colored in frustration. “I’m eighteen. I have school to finish. You’ve never even met my parents.”

  “I already know your father, and I asked his permission to marry you.”

  “My…? You mean, Hakon? When did you have time to ask him?”

  He stood and grabbed both of her hands. “When I risked my life for yours and hauled you to my side. I exchanged a look with Hakon. He nodded his agreement, and expressed it mentally.”

  She glanced over at Hakon, who seemed to be discussing something important with Derek. “How did he know what you wanted?”

  Keen raised a brow. “It was obvious.”

  “That’s how men in your land ask permission to marry someone’s daughter?”

  Keen shrugged. “More or less. Traditionally, we would have performed a mock sword fight, in which he would have backed down and acceded, but there wasn’t time for that.”

  “That’s some…tradition you have there.” She glanced around, trying to take it all in. People were clearing out the wounded and attempting to put the room back to rights, Elena and Derek shouting commands.

  Keen’s shoulders tensed. “You said you cannot marry me now, but I have your father’s permission. When shall we marry?”

  Now he was persistent? So much pushback and now he couldn’t have her soon enough? Well, he’d have to wait. “In a few years.”

  He pulled her flush against his body and lifted her into his arms until they were nose to nose. “I do not wish to wait a few years to be…intimate with you.”

  She arched her brow, a smile tugging at her lips. “You didn’t wait the other night.”

  His mouth drew into a hard line. “Exactly. I can’t wait when you are near. It is impossible. You could conceive and we wouldn’t be married.”

  She looked at him as though he were dense. “That is what the Pill is for, you Neanderthal. Don’t you trust me to only be with you?”

  “Of course. I would kill anyone who went near you.”

  Was he serious? Probably. “Exactly, not that you’d need to. I’m a faithful person. But in any case, we’ll wait to get married until we’re ready, and in the meantime we could practice coupling, as you like to refer to the act.”

  “Practice?”
/>   She gave him a naughty grin. “Yes, practice.”

  Keen’s nostrils flared and he squeezed her tight, but not tight enough to hurt her. “I like this plan. We will begin now.” He walked out of the room, passing soldiers who looked somewhat confused and scattered, and past Elena and Derek.

  Elena looked up and saw them. She grinned at Reese and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Just outside the door, Illa stood with Ulric. His mouth was on hers, his arms banded around her small waist, and their embrace was…passionate.

  Keen turned down a separate corridor and continued walking.

  “Does that bother you?” Reese asked. “Seeing Illa with someone else?”

  He glanced at her, but continued his determined pace. “Of course not. Ulric has wanted Illa. And she is your sister.” He looked at her. “And I love you. Only you.” His hand slipped down and squeezed her ass.

  “Okay,” she said a little breathlessly. “That works.”

  Keen took a set of stairs three at a time and walked several feet down a wide hallway. He opened one of the doors with the arm that wasn’t holding her up, and slammed it closed with the heel of his boot.

  This room was huge—a suite more than a room. And very luxurious. “Where are we?”

  “Beortric’s old room.” He brought her into a separate bedroom with a four-poster bed and tossed her on it, swiftly following her down.

  “Who’s Beortric?”

  “Theda’s brother. Elena’s uncle, but he died in the first wave of the disease.” Keen’s eyes grew shadowed. “He was a good man.”

  Reese cradled Keen’s face with her hand, still unable to believe they were together. “What happened tonight? Because it seemed like I was close to never seeing you again.” The memory of Keen writhing on the floor flooded her mind, tears springing to her eyes.

  How had he done this to her? She was the commitmentphobe. And now she was in love and thinking about marriage?

  She couldn’t stand the idea of what she’d almost lost tonight. Keen would have died if… “Why did the angel come back? Has that ever happened before? An angel returning to help?”