by Caris Roane
Rosamunde stared at him for a long moment. “If you need me, Stone, I’m here for you. I know you don’t believe me, but you’re wrong about this.”
“Get out!” He shouted so loud that her ears rang.
Chapter Thirteen
Stone stared at the empty bed for a long, long moment.
His entire body vibrated with rage.
Sweet Goddess, he couldn’t believe how many different ways he’d made love to Rosamunde last night and right now he regretted it all. He felt as though he’d slept with a demoness, a woman who had tricked him with one set of seductive behaviors, yet all the while she’d been the real reason his adopted troll parents had died.
He should have stuck with his initial instincts about Rosamunde as a woman lacking courage and action. Her life might have been uncomfortably secluded, but it had been a soft existence. She hadn’t learned how to really do battle in a world constantly harassed by wraith-pairs.
And her story about Margetta forcing these visions on her yet making it impossible for her to act rang false to his warrior ears. If she’d really cared about all the realm-folk who’d died, she would have alerted the ruling mastyrs. She would have done something. A failure to act was as damning as anything else in this situation.
He dressed for the night in battle gear, as usual. Though like Ian, he’d left off wearing the woven shirts. He liked seeing his tattoos in the mirror as he wrestled his black mane into the woven clasp. Each time a major catastrophe had happened, he’d added a tattoo so that every single ink blade point on his body reminded him why he fought as he did.
He pulled the leather Guardsman coat aside and touched the point nearest his heart. He’d gotten it a year after the death of his parents, a reminder of why he would always serve as a Guardsman. He would battle for the safety of the Nine Realms until the day he died.
Grief swelled over him suddenly and so profound that he had to catch himself with both hands on the edge of the sink or he would have fallen forward and crashed into the mirror.
Sweat beaded up on his forehead.
He could recall the night he learned of the attack on Charborne as though it was yesterday and not three hundred years ago. He’d been as far from the village and the family farm as he could have been in Tannisford. He’d flown faster than ever before, but it had still taken him twenty minutes to get there.
By the time he arrived at Charborne, several Vampire Guard squads were in play taking care of business. Dozens of wraith-pairs lay dead on the cobbled streets of the village and the rest were being run to earth.
He’d sped the remaining distance to the family farm, but the house was on fire as were the haystacks scattered through the pasture. He found his parents already dead and lying in a ditch near their vegetable garden along with two female dairy workers and three field hands. The wraith-pairs had been in such a frenzy, they’d slaughtered forty head of cattle as well.
He’d carried his mother to a quiet, untouched place in their peach orchard, then gone back for his father and the others. He’d spent the rest of the night preparing funeral pyres. Relatives of the dead had come from miles around to mourn the loss.
His best friends, Harris and Cole, had stayed with him until dawn. He’d wept unceasingly. He’d always known that he’d been a shield of protection for Charborne. Wraith-pairs had attacked the village at least once-a-year and because of his ability, he’d fought them off from the time he’d learned to ply his battle frequency.
Though he’d had the current ruling mastyr of Tannisford drill the village in security maneuvers and some of the Guard had even trained the more stalwart trolls, elves and fae how to fight, no one could have predicted such a large number of wraith-pairs descending all at once on Charborne.
Except … Rosamunde.
Unbidden tears fell from his eyes, only what he felt wasn’t just the grief of having lost his family three centuries ago or even that their deaths could have been prevented. But in this moment, he’d also lost a woman he’d come to love.
Earlier, while making coffee and preparing ingredients for a frittata, he’d come to a decision to bond with her. He’d even taken a few minutes to mentally lay in all the arguments he would use to persuade her.
He’d shaved and showered, wishing she’d wake up so they could discuss the immediate future.
Now, he felt as though her revelations about Margetta’s visions had set his whole life on fire, burning it down to embers, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He could only return to the Communication Center and get back to work.
~ ~ ~
As Rosamunde showered in her castle bathroom, she felt numb from head to foot. She’d been a fool not to address the issue of Margetta’s visions much earlier in her relationship with Stone. In fact, the best time would have been when she’d served cocktails before the gala and both Vojalie and Davido had been present. They could have supported her claims.
But when she thought back to the scope of Davido’s revelations, she recalled the state of shock Stone had been in. He’d learned Davido wasn’t just his biological father, but an elf-lord as well. She couldn’t have layered yet another explosive piece of news on top of his parentage. It had seemed way too much at the time.
Yet without Davido’s support of her position, all Stone saw was her supposed weakness.
She realized she was emotionally worn out from the last three nights. Leaning her forearm against the tile and as the warm water beat down on her, she gave herself to the tears that had tightened her throat.
When she’d wept long enough and felt more at peace, she shut off the shower and took her time drying herself. She spent the next twenty minutes using her blow dryer in an almost haphazard manner. She didn’t even care that her disinterest resulted in a huge, frizzy mass.
When she went to her closet, however, and saw the long row of beautifully wrought gowns, each one specially designed and hand-stitched for the Queen, she grew very still. They were all elegant, a few in silk or velvet, but most in the woven fabrics common to the Nine Realms, though heavily hand-embroidered.
Much to her surprise, she realized she couldn’t put any of them on, not anymore. They no longer suited her and she closed the closet door.
Once she’d become Aralynn, she’d started down this path, good or bad, right or wrong. She’d loved the freedom of embracing her wolf side, whether running through the forest in fur and four paws or battling beside Stone with her hair held back by a woven clasp, but essentially set free from the Queen’s intricate braids.
She turned to face into the room, to the large, heavily carved, four-poster bed, to the ornate dresser and overly tall, upholstered chairs. The drapes by the window were velvet. The carpet on the floor was an expensive antique Turkish rug imported from the U.S. The hardwood floors had been recently refinished so that they gleamed.
Paintings by the most famous elven artists of the past several centuries adorned each wall. The frames alone cost a fortune. The room was … opulent.
She wasn’t. She never had been.
She fingered her frizzed-out hair.
As a child, she was happiest when she was outside playing with her goats.
The decision that came to her was so simple, she hardly knew what to make of it. She decided in that moment she would abdicate as queen and leave the castle for good. Her extensive staff governed Ferrenden Peace as it was. She’d truly been a figurehead and little better than a prisoner all these years.
Aralynn’s life, on the other hand, was one of action and doing. Rosamunde’s nature leaned to these qualities. She’d loved the weeks she’d served as Stone’s battle partner well before they’d become lovers.
Bottom line, she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t live in the castle any longer.
A new path opened up suddenly, one that Stone would fight her on, but she didn’t care. And, she had nothing to lose.
She teleported to the cottage then transformed into Aralynn. By now, it was no doubt well know
n that she was both the queen and Aralynn. She didn’t even care about that, not really. It was time to move on, to be who she was meant to really be, no matter which woman she brought to the fore.
She dressed in battle gear, but focused on her faeness and channeling the elf-lord power. When the earth began to rumble, she didn’t wait but teleported just outside the Tannisford Communication Center.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the glass door of the building then moved to the end of the hall to the room where Stone had his main display of screens.
The moment she crossed the threshold, her hand on her sheathed dagger for support, Stone’s deep voice boomed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
All the screens began to crackle and every head turned first in Stone’s direction, then in hers.
The room fell deathly quiet.
Delia levitated to face Stone at eye-level. “Ease down, Mastyr! You’re going to explode the electronics!”
Stone, however, clearly couldn’t hear Delia. He levitated swiftly through the room, heading toward her. As he flew over the heads of his Com Center operators, several leaned or ducked to keep from getting clipped.
Rosamunde had enough sense to back into the hall.
Once he reached her, he shut the door to the center, then grabbed her arm, his mossy-green eyes lit up like a bonfire. “You are not welcome here and don’t ever come back.” He glanced down at his feet no doubt feeling the earth rumbling as well. “Shit. You’re kidding me. The elf-lord power? What’s going on?”
She offered him a wry smile. “It’s time to rock-and-roll, Stone. You with me? Because I’m not giving up serving Tannisford as Aralynn. I’m sorry for the way things fell out—”
“Fell out? You call that kind of deception and indifference to the plight of your fellow realm-folk a simple ‘falling out’. Fuck you, Rosamunde.”
She flared her own nostrils. “And fuck you right back because I know in my powerful fae heart that you’re wrong about how you’ve interpreted the Margetta visions.” This time she glanced down at her feet then grabbed Stone’s arm to channel the power into him. Whether he liked it nor, he was going to participate. She was tired of his temper and his rage. He needed to get with the program no matter what he thought about her.
Stone started to protest, but the vision rolled so fast that she watched him clamp his lips shut. His eyes widened as he stared back at her, so she knew he was receiving the vision at the same time.
Stone summed it up. “A bunch of wraith-pairs have got several troll teens trapped out at the grotto.” He blinked a few times as the vision faded then met her gaze.
He narrowed his eyes and remained silent for several potent seconds. “Fine. This once, then we’re going to set some boundaries because I can’t function like this. We’ll get Vojalie to help us out if we have to.”
She lifted her chin and one strongly arched brow. “Fine. You ready, Mastyr?”
“You don’t have to be sarcastic.”
“Oh, yes, I think I do.” She didn’t wait for him to argue further, but gripped his arm tighter and teleported him to the far southern edge of the realm where the Tannisford fir forest met the Sea of Vermed. The constant force of the waves had created a string of caves filled with white sand and blue water. It was a favorite place for swimming and for troll teens at night, a place to let romance take its course.
~ ~ ~
Rage still had hold of Stone, but he took a few seconds to channel all that frustration and anger into the sight of three wraith-pairs circling above the wide hole that led down into the most central grotto. The wraiths were up to their usual scare-the-shit-out-of-the-enemy with their loud, piercing shrieks.
What’s the strategy? Do you want me to teleport as many of the trolls out as I can?
He turned to her, frowning. That’s right. You can do that now. Good. We’ve got new options.
Her brown eyes glittered, a sure sign she was ready to take on the mission. He could at least appreciate this part of her.
Tell you what, he said. Teleport to different locations around the edge of the forest first. See if we’ve got any other wraith-pairs in the area. We don’t want to be outflanked.
Got it. She vanished instantly.
He remained in the shadows of the coastal firs. While she searched the area, he pathed with Harris letting him know the location and the nature of the attack. Harris happened to be checking out a rogue attack a few miles to the east with a team of three and he knew of another squad only ten minutes away.
Harris pathed, A sighting of three rogue wraith-pairs came in about twenty minutes ago. But they left the area. Looks like they’ve headed to the grotto.
Sounds like it. Aralynn’s on recon, scouting the area, but I’ve got a visual on the Invictus. Shit. One of the pairs just dropped down into the grotto.
Go get ‘em, Mastyr. We’ll be there shortly.
Rosamunde returned quickly with a frightened troll kid in tow.
Stone spoke in a low voice. “Son, listen. I know you’re scared, but I need you to hold it together. My Guardsmen are on the way. But Mistress Aralynn and I have to know the lay-out. How many of you kids are down in the grotto and did you see more than just these three wraith-pairs?”
The troll was shaking. “We shouldn’t have come here tonight. My parents will kill me when they find out.”
Rosamunde put her hand on his shoulder and Stone felt her fae vibrations kick in. “Calm down, Sweetheart. Mastyr Stone and I can get everyone out safely, if you’ll tell us what we need to know. Look at me.”
As soon as the boy met her gaze, Stone watched him fall under Rosamunde’s fae thrall. The kid dragged in a deep breath, visibly relaxed and in a few words detailed the situation: Only three wraith-pairs, but there were nine troll teens below, ten in all counting the boy. Several swam to the farthest caves but would end up trapped once the Invictus got into the grotto.
Rosamunde told him to sit down and to stay put.
The troll dropped to his ass, his three forehead ridge rolls tight. He had tears in his eyes. “I will. I promise.”
Rosamunde had calmed him with her faeness and Stone felt certain he wouldn’t have to worry about this kid doing anything stupid.
Rosamunde turned toward him. She even smiled. How do you want to do this, Mastyr?
For a split second, he thought she might be flirting. Then he realized she was as she’d always been: Game for battle, as was he.
He repressed the urge to smile in response. You got your dagger?
She drew it from its sheath in a soft rasp. Let’s go.
Follow me. Stone levitated just a few inches above the forest floor. It was an unusual stretch of land, a narrow isthmus not more than thirty yards wide with the Sea of Vermed crashing against both fairly short cliffs. That trees had grown in the narrow space indicated the density of the land above what had to be a solid stone base below.
When he reached the edge of the forest, he pathed to Aralynn. I want you to come out above the uppermost pair and take out the wraith. She’s bonded to a troll which will make it easier to disable this pair. I’ll swing around then come in from the north. And remember, if you’re in danger—
I know: Get the hell out of there.
Good. Let’s roll.
He felt her vanish and when she did, he levitated straight up then shot forward. By the time Rosamunde had cut the wraith’s hamstrings, Stone had reached the bonded troll. He caught him around the neck, squeezing to render him unconscious.
The second pair turned to do battle, the wraith screeching.
He watched Rosamunde appeared suddenly behind the second wraith and cut her wiry legs as well. The wraith fell screaming to the rocky ground near the upper cave entrance. Her companion elf wasn’t far behind.
Four down.
Stone dove into the cave, flying swiftly.
The bonded vampire, a vicious-looking woman, already had a female troll in her arms. The latter was screaming and thrashing, which only
incited the vampire, who dragged her onto the nearby sandy beach ready to feed. For Stone, this was a good thing since the Invictus vampire would stay focused on her prey and not what was coming at her.
I’ve got the male wraith. Rosamunde’s telepathic words were exactly what he wanted to hear.
Knowing the vampire’s wraith-mate would be taken care of, Stone flew swiftly to land in front of the female. “Let her go. Now.”
The vampire hissed and for a moment held onto the troll. But as Stone lifted his arm, his blue battle energy sparked in the humid air. The vampire released her victim then levitated, hissing again and ready to do battle.
But Stone didn’t move against her right away. In the distance, Rosamunde appeared behind the woman’s bonded wraith-mate. Using her dagger, she quickly incapacitated the male wraith by slicing the backs of his thighs and he fell hard to the sandy beach. His ensuing pain caused the bonded female vampire to list in the air.
Stone lifted his arm and let his battle energy fly, though not at full-bore because he wanted her alive for rehabilitation. When his power struck, she flew backward and landed unconscious, about five feet from her mate. Both remained inert.
Rosamunde pathed, I’m going back for the kid in the forest.
Good idea.
He called out to the troll kids. This is Mastyr Stone. We’ve got the enemy in hand, but I want you to stay put until my Guardsmen arrive. They’ll come and retrieve each of you. We want to make sure the grotto is completely safe first.
A few called back to him, letting him know he’d been heard and would be obeyed.
A moment later, Harris tapped on his telepathy. Stone opened up and Harris gave his report. I’ve got my team up here and we’ll be able to send these two wraith-pairs for rehab. How you doin’ down below?
The last pair is unconscious and I’ve told the kids to stay where they are until our Guardsmen come for them. Rosamunde is in the forest with one of the kids who wasn’t in the grotto when the wraith-pairs attacked. But I’d like you to take charge.
