by Everly Frost
Sensation shoots through my spine and all the way to my toes, turning my bones into liquid. Confusion is a storm inside me as Grayson pulls me closer, much closer, guiding my hips to his, one hand caressing my lower back while his other—the one that was playing with my hair—lightly runs across my eyelashes.
“Close your eyes,” he says. “Tell me what you feel.”
I allow my eyelids to droop as he presses his palm across them, keeping them closed. His breath whispers across my cheek. His lips follow. I inhale and my head fills with Baelen’s scent, the touch of his lips against the corner of my mouth, the press of his body against mine. All of this male pressed up against me. All of it is Baelen. My heart rate increases and so does my breathing. I can’t control my body’s response as need rages through me.
Grayson’s exhale teases my bottom lip, not quite connecting but far too close. “Tell me.”
I can only form one confused word. “Baelen.”
I sense Grayson smile, but the sudden space between our lips is unbearable. Without thinking, I pull him closer to me, reaching for his shoulders. I want to kiss him. I want to press my lips against his, to drown in the taste of Baelen’s mouth, losing myself to his touch, to his fingers tangling in my hair and the shivers racing down my spine.
Now my inner voice shouts, Stop! He isn’t Baelen.
Grayson whispers, “What about now?”
I’m shaking. Shaking so hard. But I suddenly realize that I don’t need to tell him. Grayson knows exactly what I’m feeling.
I wrench his hand away from my eyes so I can see him again. For a second—the smallest moment—his true reaction is open to me: he is watching my lips and he is not in control. He leans toward me for a moment as if the sudden distance between us is painful. Then a mask drops over his face, over his whole body. He is calculating and measured again. He assesses my reaction, studying my face. I want nothing more than to hide my response, take back my hands gripping his shoulders, take back the way I pressed into him, stop it instantly, but it’s not possible. Baelen’s impact on me is a storm I can’t control, what I feel for him goes beyond physical. It’s emotional and mental and I can’t turn that off cold, not like Grayson has. But what really scares me is not the way Grayson hides his emotions so quickly behind an aloof mask.
It’s the crimson glow that fills the air around us, a glow that’s coming from the Rath Heartstone in his back. What terrifies me is the fact that Grayson was drawing on the Rath Heartstone while he was holding me. Baelen used that stone to bind himself to me for life, promising to love, protect, and honor me until the end of time. Until his death. It contains every emotion of love, need, protectiveness, and worst of all, the soul-searing desire that Baelen feels for me and me alone.
It contains everything Grayson needs to control me.
19. Marbella Mercy
Now I know why Grayson embedded the Rath Heartstone in his body. I wrench backward and he lets me go. My legs are jelly. I stumble like a new foal, reaching for the nearest chair so I can drop into it. I grip the armrest, focus every bit of my rage into it, and stare at my hands as they slowly turn white.
I nearly kissed him, nearly betrayed everything I feel for Baelen. Angry tears burn behind my eyes, but I will not shed them. I will not let him see what his sorcery has done to me.
Grayson says nothing. Does nothing. Observing me with no emotion at all.
My voice is like sandpaper in my throat. “What happens now?”
“Now you stay here. With me.”
“For how long?”
He doesn’t move. He may as well be made of stone. “As long as it takes for the Elven Command to take control of Erador.”
“Why do they want to attack the gargoyles? Is it for revenge because of what the Storm did?”
He replies, “The gargoyles have something we need.”
“What is that?”
His only response is a quick shake of his head. He isn’t going to tell me.
My accusation is bitter. “So you’re going to attack the gargoyles even though you already have me.”
“I told you to prepare for war.”
I gasp, growl, and laugh all at the same time. “You think it will be easy to conquer them. You have no idea what they are capable of.”
He tilts his head with a curious frown, the first movement he’s made. “I did not find the gargoyles on the cliff so hard to subdue.”
I’m not ready to stand yet, but I will be soon. “Yes, but that was because of all your natural sorcery. You won’t be there for this fight.”
A frown descends over his perfect forehead. “What are you talking about? Of course I’ll be there. I’m leading the battle.”
I can finally stand, lifting myself up off the chair with all the poise I can manage, desperately trying to ignore my despair. Even Cassian was respectful of my body. He never tried to kiss me. But Marbella, I tell myself, that was because he loved you. Tears burn behind my eyes again. “You won’t be there, Grayson, because you’ll be here, keeping me under control.” I turn to the doorway. Point at it. “Without you, I’ll simply walk out that door. There is no other elf powerful enough to stop me.”
His eyebrows have risen. “I will place you in a containment sphere.”
“Try it,” I dare him. “Try it right now. Watch me destroy it.”
With barely a gesture on his part, my feet lift off the ground and a transparent shield forms around me, dragging me upward. I press my hands against the front of it, demanding his attention. A blast of Incorruptible light shatters the globe around me in the next moment.
I drop gracefully to my feet and stride toward him, well and truly in control of my legs now. Diamond light shines around me as my Incorruptible power continues to respond to my anger. “Put me behind bars, inside a spelled prison, and wrap it up with as much magic as you can. It won’t matter. I’ll get out.”
I’m close enough to jab his chest, the same chest I pressed up against moments before. “The only thing keeping me here is you. Your body. Once you’re gone, I’m gone. Good luck to the elves fighting a battle against the gargoyles without you.”
He contemplates me with the first sign of real emotion. It’s odd to see him fixate on the finger I jabbed him with. I see again the moment of emotion he couldn’t hide when I first opened my eyes after he held me just now. I remember the sensory overload I felt when I discovered I was able to touch people after seven years of keeping my distance. I jab his chest again and press my finger there. It’s a stupid move but if he’s going to control me, I’ll fight back with everything I can, including the knowledge that touch isn’t something he’s used to.
I say, “I’m tired and hungry and I’m assuming you don’t want me to starve. So where is the food?” What I want more than anything is to see what’s outside this room—to get a feel for the layout of the house and where the prison might be.
He snatches a glance at my finger. Then, without warning, he sweeps it up to his mouth and catches the end of it between his teeth, closing his lips around it. The air glows crimson again and delicious warmth shoots through me as he kisses my skin. Baelen’s kisses. “I’m hungry too,” he murmurs.
I drag my finger free with all my might, my heart sinking at just how badly that went.
He lets me go with a laugh that sounds oddly genuine. “If you’re going to play that game, be prepared to lose.”
“Got it.” I clear my throat, burying my finger inside my curled-up fist. I step away from him, knowing that from now on, I need to keep as much distance between us as I can. I wasn’t lying though. I’m hungry and tired. I was on my way to dinner right before Grayson snatched me from outside the Royal Residence. It was right after I buried Cassian. Right after Indira admitted to me how much she wanted to stay in her beautiful valley with Erit and never face what was coming. Right after Baelen lost it when he saw me covered in blood.
My shoulders slump. Too much happened today. Time is my enemy. The elven army is about to attack
the gargoyles for reasons that Grayson won’t tell me about. It can’t be as simple as revenge or he would have said so. But the gargoyles aren’t ready. Half the army was killed in the battle with the miners and most of the strongest males who were thrown into the mines are still recovering from imprisonment. They aren’t prepared for an attack and that’s on me. I chose not to warn them. It’s my fault and now I have to make it right. I need to buy time.
I turn back to Grayson. “If I promise to stay here while you go to battle, will you wait the month you promised?”
He is surprised. “Why would you do that?”
“Because that way the gargoyles have time to evacuate their children from the battle zone.” I glare at him. “There are villages close to the border, Grayson. Peaceful villages with families and little children. Families who have only just found each other after years of…” I curl my hands into fists, swallowing hard against the emotions rising inside of me. They are families I have just reunited. I won’t let them be torn apart again.
I say, “I will not allow children to die. If you want a battle, then let it be a fair fight between armies. Not a slaughter of peaceful villagers.”
His frown deepens. Emotions flicker across his face: surprise, distrust, deep thought. “It will be a slaughter if I’m there, Marbella, and that’s what you’re guaranteeing.”
“You’re forgetting Baelen.”
“Ah.” He grants me an acknowledging nod. It looks like he’s going to take me at my word that I’ll stay put, because he says, “Then a battle between armies it is. I will give your gargoyles a month. By now they will know about your disappearance, so I will send a messenger to the border stating our terms.”
“Thank you.” It’s a small victory but it gives me what I need: time. Time to locate Elise, Reisha, and my Storm Command. Time for the gargoyles to prepare.
Grayson strides to the door located on the opposite wall. Opening it, he gestures me inside. It’s a bedroom, equally opulent with a large four-poster bed draped in golden pillows and covered in a silken bed cover. Of course, there’s only one bed.
He points to a door at the side and then to various spots within the room. “Bathroom. Bed. Obviously I can’t sleep in it so you have nothing to worry about. Also, the bathroom has no openings to the outside so I have no concerns about leaving you alone in there.”
I ask, “What’s to say I won’t blast a hole in the side and walk out?”
“You could. But then our deal would be off. Our army is ready to attack whenever we give the word. I don’t think you want that to happen.”
I make a straight line for the bathroom, craving space.
“Stop.”
I freeze.
He strides to the closet and pulls out a towel and a dressing gown. “You can sleep in this tonight. Tomorrow I will arrange clothing for you.”
I gather the items into my arms. I’ve been sleeping in unfamiliar clothing for a long time now. I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have my own clothes. This is my new normal.
Once inside the bathroom, I close the door behind me, listening as Grayson’s footsteps recede on the marbled floor. I’m halfway through showering before everything that happened today hits me. Then I curl down into a ball, letting the water beat down on me.
Baelen.
I want to scream his name. I want to blast this entire building into shreds. But I can’t beat Grayson. I have to play within his rules. I thump my fist against the bathroom tiles. All of my heartstones glow at once. They are trying to help me—to give me strength and heart, to help me think and help me heal—but it’s all too much. I crawl out of the shower and drag a towel around myself, drying my body before pulling on the dressing gown. I release my hair from its braid, letting it fall to my waist. Then I stagger to my feet, preparing myself to find Grayson waiting for me outside. The lamps have been dimmed but he’s nowhere to be seen. Filled with relief, I slip into the bed and pull the covers up to my neck. I ignore my empty stomach—I’ve gone longer without food before.
Somehow I manage to fall asleep.
20. Grayson Glory
Marbella Mercy lies sleeping in my bed while I pace my cage. Even as an Elven Commander, I’m not free to come and go without the other Commanders’ permission.
My pacing carries me to her bedside.
Touch. It seems like the simplest thing but carries so much power. Touch can be kind or cruel, but the absence of touch is the cruelest of all. My power to kill everything I come into contact with means I’ve never experienced simple connection before. Even when I kill, my target’s life is gone, that living spark void.
Suddenly, I’m drowning in need for all the touch I’ve missed.
Nothing prepared me for what it would feel like to connect with another elf, skin on skin, let alone an elf with so much power coursing through her body and mind. A power like my own.
The splintered Rath stones burn against my spine, making me ache with a need, physical and emotional, that threatens to consume me. Marbella tried to rebel against me—she jabbed her finger at me—and all I wanted was more. I would have welcomed her hitting me if it meant she touched me again. When she almost kissed me, it was enough to make me lose control. I could have used the Rath stone to make her sleep with me and she would have come to my bed willingly.
But I couldn’t. Because it’s a lie.
Touch without honesty. I never realized how important that would be.
The door to my quarters bursts open in the other room and I hurry out there. Elwyn Elder’s hunched form barges in, his robes flapping around him.
“Where is she?”
I was supposed to take Marbella to the prison. I’d even intended on killing her on the spot, which is why I allowed her to touch me in the first place. But now, everything has changed.
I step between him and the bedroom door, a physical barrier in case he thinks he’s going to barge in there. “She’s inside.”
Elwyn shouts, “You were supposed to take her to the prison!”
I sense the temporary sorcery inside him. He killed a living creature before he came here, which tells me he’s intent on taking Marbella away. Rage flows through me, powered by that damn Rath heartstone, but this time I agree with it. “Do not question me, Elwyn!”
My power blasts out from me, propelling Elwyn back through the air. He thuds against the wall so hard, he dints it. I advance on him, using my power to push him against the wall and pin him there.
His face reddens with anger. “You let her touch you, didn’t you?”
I push harder, hoping his ribs will crack. He can use his sorcery to heal himself and then it will be consumed and he will have to leave.
Elwyn shakes his head at me. “I told you not to touch her.”
I growl. “You told me nobody could. You told me that even Marbella Mercy would die at my touch. Well, she didn’t!” My voice lowers. “What other lies have you told me?”
I’m satisfied to sense his ribs break, three of them popping under the force of my power. Finally.
“Noth-Nothing,” he stammers, gasping for breath. I ease up enough to allow him to heal himself, waiting as his sorcery drains away. Having been forced to use up his power, his tone becomes disappointed, placating, nearly pleading. “Grayson, don’t lose sight of our goal. She’s a distraction you don’t need.”
I release him, allowing him to finish healing and stretch out his aching muscles.
“She’s more than a distraction,” I say.
He scowls. “What are you talking about?”
I hate admitting the truth. “She’s the only female I can ever…”
Elwyn’s eyes widen. “Wake up to yourself. She belongs to Baelen Rath. If you want a female, then cloak yourself and go get one. Get three for all I care. That female in there will never bed you willingly.”
I fold my arms across my chest. As always, he misinterprets my meaning. He assumes I have the same priorities that he does: power and pleasure at the expense of everything
else.
He doesn’t realize that what I mean is that she is the only female I could have children with. Cloaking myself during sex is an instant contraceptive.
I want to know what it’s like to hold my own child in my arms like the golden-haired female held the child at the nest. I want to give them the childhood I never had, to make sure they’re never ashamed of their heritage, that they know who they are and take pride in what they can achieve. My gargoyle father gave me height and powerful muscles. He gave me physical advantage over other elves. I could rival Baelen Rath in a fight—and yet I am jeered at, hated, and feared. I want that to change.
There’s no point in trying to make Elwyn understand. I change the subject. “I’ve sent a messenger to the border to tell the gargoyles they have a month to surrender. I’ve told them we have their Queen.” I glower at Elwyn, wanting him gone. “Now get out.”
Elwyn curses beneath his breath before he whirls to the door. “You’d better know what you’re doing, Grayson.”
“I do. Don’t worry.”
The door closes and I stare at it.
I lied. I don’t know what I’m doing. This morning, I did. This morning, I had a plan. Now, my intentions are confused. I want things I can’t have. I want to change things I can’t change. All that does is make me angry.
21. Marbella Mercy
I awake to loud voices outside the bedroom. The door is open and it’s easy to see through to the living area where two males argue. I stay where I am, feigning sleep.
The newcomer is Elwyn Elder. He appears more hunched than the last time I saw him at Howl’s banquet. His face is red with anger. “Where is she?”
Grayson steps between Elwyn and the bedroom door, fists clenched. “She’s inside.”
Elwyn blusters. “You were supposed to take her to the prison!”
“Do not question me!” Grayson’s arm shoots out at Elwyn. Suddenly Elwyn is propelled backward, his robes flapping around him as he flies through the air. He thuds up against the opposite wall, pinned there, wincing.
