Two Worlds of Redemption

by Angelina J. Steffort

  “I feel better,” he said with a smile. He had shaved off his growing beard and was wearing his Ambassador uniform pants and a white shirt with a woolen sweater on top to keep him warm.

  “What’s happening here?” Maray let her eyes assess every detail of the room and was surprised to see the difference from all of the times she’d marched through before.

  The window blinds had been opened, tinting the space in a soft, white light, the mirrors diffusing every ray they caught and the dust particles dancing as they scattered in the movement of the stream of freezing air that came from one of the open balcony doors. Servants bustled across the space, carrying chairs to round tables which had been set up around the area in the center, which remained free and open like a dance floor—which was probably exactly what it was. Golden ribbons were floating to the floor between each set place at the tables, creating six-pointed stars on top of silken tablecloths. The dishes were delicate white china framed with golden lines, the cutlery silver and heavy-looking, wine and water glasses crystal and all fragile. It looked like a catalogue wedding, not like the end of her personal happiness.

  “Are you looking forward to the dance?” Gerwin asked as he noticed Maray’s fascination with the place.

  She shook her head. Maray hadn’t confronted either her mother or her father about their interference with the suitor list. If anything, she could tell them she was grateful they had thought of protecting her from some unknown fate. But she didn’t have it in her to do so, at least, not yet. Maybe after tonight when everything was over—

  “Will you be there?” Maray asked instead.

  Gerwin gave a tiny nod. “Corey checked in earlier this morning. She says I am well enough to attend the event for a little bit. But she advised me not to dance.”

  “Anyone would advise you not to dance.” Maray found herself grinning despite her glum mood. Her father was a great diplomat, but he was the opposite when it came to dancing. She had seen it a couple of times, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “They would, wouldn’t they?” Gerwin laughed, but it turned into a cough soon.

  Maray instinctively brought her hand to his back, unsure of how she could support him.

  “I should probably return to bed and save my strength for your big entrance tonight.” Despite all the debatable motives for the ball, he seemed to find a certain delight in the prospect of it.

  As Maray watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but share the intrigue of attending a grand ball in the beautiful gallery where things reminded her more of a fairytale than the drama she was stuck in. She stood and watched for a couple more minutes, letting her thoughts drown in the bombastic arrangements of evergreen twigs and roses in all shades of white and pink, which probably came from the enormous greenhouse on the other end of the campus.

  “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

  Maray shrank to the side, hitting her elbow on one wing of the white and golden door. She rubbed it with her other hand while she looked for the source of the voice, surprised to find a pair of clear-blue eyes looking back at her from a tan face. A young man, not much older than Jemin and Heck, was observing her curiously, apparently waiting for her to say something. Goran and Pete had put themselves in between her and the young man, weapons ready. She would just have to say the word. But the stranger was unarmed. He didn’t seem aggressive, more curious.

  Maray signaled Goran and Pete to stand down, and they opened the gap between their shoulders, allowing for the young man to speak his concerns.

  “Sorry to have startled you, Your Royal Highness,” the stranger apologized. His gaze checked up and down as he was probably comparing her appearance to the Queen’s. It was still the first thing anyone did who had never laid eyes on either her or Rhia. But when, after a while, Maray was still quiet, he looked into her eyes again and said, “I shouldn’t be here, not before the ball, but I couldn’t help snatching a glimpse of the grand gallery before I head off to see my father.”

  Maray pursed her lips. This was one of the suitors from the list. She couldn’t tell which one it was, but it was clear this wasn’t Leander Unterly. He was too old to be him.

  The young man bowed, remembering protocol. “Oliver Gerenhoff,” he introduced himself. “It’s an honor to meet you, Princess Maray.

  Maray blanked. This was too early. She had at least eight more hours before she was supposed to be confronted with gentlemen who were hoping to sit on the throne beside her one day.

  Oliver straightened as she still didn’t speak, his eyes expectant for some response.

  Maray wished her father hadn’t left. He would have handled this encounter for her. But instead, she was standing in front of one of the suitors, mute as a stone.

  “That’s very interesting attire,” Oliver commented on Maray’s jeans and blue cardigan. “Do people wear that in the other dimension?”

  “So you’ve heard of my upbringing?” Maray found herself saying instead of something sophisticated or dignified the way her mother would have done.

  Oliver tilted his head to the side and grinned. “It’s not a crime,” he noted. “If anything, it makes you more intriguing, Maray Cornay.”

  The way he leaned closer as he spoke the words, her name, made her internally cringe. She would have to tell Pia and Heck to make sure Oliver Gerenhoff would get the obligatory dance and nothing more.

  “I need to take my leave, Oliver Gerenhoff,” she said and walked past him, remembering Heck’s face as she had told him she would never let anyone force themselves on her, and a smile popped onto her lips. “There are matters I need to attend to—such as my attire.”

  She felt Oliver’s gaze on her as she disappeared down the hallway with Goran and Pete one step behind her, and she knew there was no chance in hell Oliver Gerenhoff would sneak up on her again.

  When she returned to her room, Goran and Pete remained outside.

  “Call us if you need anything,” Goran said, and Maray thanked him and let him know she wasn’t to be disturbed until Pia’s return before she closed the door behind her.

  Pia was still running errands to get Maray’s dress ready for the evening, which left Maray with a few extra hours that belonged to her, and only her. She pulled her hair clip out and dropped it on the bedside table before she let herself sink onto the soft mattress, ready to drown out the rest of the world until she had to get ready and let Pia squeeze her into whatever she had chosen for the ball.

  “May I come in?”

  The velvet tone of Jemin’s voice came from the empty fireplace.

  Maray’s heart stuttered with shock, and she bounced back onto her feet so fast she couldn’t tell which body part had made it out of bed first.

  “Depends,” she whispered, unable to get her vocal cords to work. “If you are bringing bad news, then stay away.”

  Jemin laughed. It was the sound of rainbows coated in velvet, a sound that was as rare on Jemin as the light-hearted smile he wore as he stepped out of the fireplace.

  “Where have you been?” Maray had countless questions she wanted to ask all at once, and yet, all she got out was that one.

  “Pen’s,” he answered briefly and took a cautious step toward her. “He says hi, by the way.”

  Maray chuckled at the thought of the cute little Gurnyak, almost forgetting that it was also a deadly weapon.

  For a moment, they stood, gazing at each other, each of them going through their own emotions. Maray’s hands were shaking. She felt it as she absently reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, and Jemin shook his head at her. “Isn’t this my task?” he asked and closed the gap between them in a fast, smooth stride.

  Maray didn’t move. She let him take her hand, savoring the electric current that ran through her skin as his fingers wrapped around it. He led her hand to his lips and kissed it with silken lips before he leaned toward her and pulled her into his chest with his free arm.

  He inhaled deeply, making Maray’s neck tickle and butterflies flutter in her stomach a
s he released his breath back into her hair. “You smell even better in real life.”

  And there it was. That short moment of bliss was gone almost as instantly as it had come, and what lingered was the stale taste of a lie—the lie to herself that Jemin had returned to her so he could stay, and not that he could never be in her life the way she wanted it. And that he wasn’t the same Jemin—he was a shifter.

  As Maray stiffened between his arms, Jemin pulled away. “I am so sorry I didn’t check in sooner,” he said and took a step backward, letting the dry air of the room flush the heat between them out. “Neelis is very cautious with his new pack-members,” Jemin explained. He didn’t look awkward as he spoke in those new terms, but there was something wild about him that made the thought of him as a crafty beast less of a hassle for Maray to put into her mind. His caramel curls were a tad shorter than last time she had seen him, no longer fitting into a ponytail but instead bouncing down from the center of his head in uneven lengths. His eyes were sparkling as he held her gaze, eager for any details she could grasp, and as Maray moved her weight from one leg to the other, his body infinitesimally moved with her as if he was instinctively adjusting to her even with the gap between them.

  “Actually, I shouldn’t even be here,” Jemin admitted, one hand reaching up to wipe some curls off of his forehead. “I snuck out while he was meeting with Commander Scott to discuss details for tonight.”

  Maray’s stomach tightened. Seeing Jemin before her like this made it even harder to believe that she was actually going to trade her freedom and happiness for the stability of Allinan.

  “You look good,” Jemin noted. “Better even than the last time I saw you.”

  “That’s because you are here,” Maray said unthinking, and Jemin’s smile that had made him look so much brighter, freer, retreated into the facade of the Jemin Maray knew.

  “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, Maray.” Jemin crossed one forearm over his stomach, clutching the wrist of his other arm. “I am still not fully in control of my new self.” He glanced at her to check whether she was already running away. “All those heightened senses, the instincts, the reflexes. And accidentally portaling out of Allinan—” He grimaced at memories Maray couldn’t possibly read from his mind.

  “But you came anyway.” Maray said it as if it was something to do him credit.

  A sudden flare of blue fire in his eyes erupted like a volcano that had woken from its dormancy. “How could I not? It’s my last chance to see you while you are still free, still you. Who knows what will happen at the ball.”

  “You mean Heck?” Maray didn’t actually want to talk about it, but it was better now than never.

  Jemin nodded. “Him and the others, whoever they may be. None of them deserves you—” He stopped himself as his frame became slightly blurry and shaking, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Then, when he was calm enough again, he continued, voice grave. “The problem is I don’t deserve you, either.”

  Maray wanted to object, but he stopped her by holding out one long-fingered hand.

  “Nobody deserves you.” He shook his head. “I mean, look at you. You are the freaking copy of the woman all of Allinan idolizes and loves, and the difference between Rhia and you—you actually deserve their love, every last bit of it. You shouldn’t belong to anyone. Not even me. If you belong to anyone, it’s Allinan—all of it.”

  Maray heard him, loud and clear, and still, there was only one thing she wanted to do. She reached out for his hand, which was still hovering in front of him, and ran her fingertips across his palm. Jemin shivered under her touch—not the dangerous shifter shake but a shudder that came with a gasp of pleasure. “I don’t care who I will belong to after tonight,” she said, hardly believing she was saying the words. “Right now, I belong to you and only you.” She pushed aside Heck’s suggestion of having an in-name-only marriage so she could still see Jemin in secret, but she knew, as he folded his fingers over hers and pulled her closer, that it would never be enough. And for now, she didn’t want to think, she didn’t want to worry, not about Rhia, not about her mother, about Heck or any of the other suitors. She was Maray, not the princess who had stumbled into a corrupt court. He wasn’t Jemin, the shifter who was not supposed to even come near her. She was a girl, and he was a boy. And that was it. Simple.

  She used her own weight to pull herself even closer to him and reached with her free hand behind his neck, playing with his curls. “What do your instincts say? Your senses?”

  Jemin let go of her hand and reached around her, arms caging her firmly as he lifted her up. His hot breath floated across her face, on her neck, on her throat, as he moved along with his lips. Maray laid her arm around him and pulled herself higher as he moved lower with his hands, wrapping her thighs around his hips. Heat rolled through Maray as she felt the muscles in Jemin’s neck and shoulders under her fingers. She bit her lip, keeping everything she could possibly say to ruin the moment to herself, but couldn’t suppress a squeak of surprise when Jemin sat her onto the dresser and grazed down her throat and collarbone. He didn’t stop when the neckline of her shirt got in the way, but freed one of her thighs, sliding further up on the other one with his second hand to keep her pressed against him while with his free hand, he stretched aside her clothes. His lips were like fire on her skin, and she wanted more. She let go of him to catch his face and bring it up to kiss his mouth, yearning for the silken texture on hers, for his hot breath on her tongue, and guided his hands down to the seam of her shirt before she let her own fingers search the waistband of his pants for a way to open.

  Jemin pulled up her shirt, making her lift her arms above her head so he could remove it, and was back to kissing her before she even had a chance to breathe. Her skin tingled wherever Jemin touched her, and that was most of her body. It was only when she was unable to find a way to open his pants that he slowed down and took a step back. “I don’t think we will need this,” he pulled off his own shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and stomach. Maray’s hands were wherever her gaze went, Jemin didn’t do as much as lift a finger to stop her. Old Jemin would have long hit the break, but new shifter-Jemin was more of a victim to his instincts. At the tiniest of Maray’s touches, his face played a spectrum of expressions, some of which Maray had never seen on him.

  “Is this a shifter thing?” she asked and ran her finger down from his navel to the waistband of his pants.

  Jemin’s eyelids fluttered, half-closed. “What?” he asked in a husky voice and opened his eyes.

  Maray didn’t specify but watched the blue wildfire behind his irises. Jemin took her moment of silence as hesitation and rested both of his hands on her arms, looking more like her old Jemin the second he had his instincts under control.

  “If we go all the way now, I cannot promise I won’t haunt your life forever,” he warned her, but his gaze was back on her lips, as if he was aching to feel them.

  “You are saying that as if it would be a bad thing,” Maray murmured, not ready to return to reality.

  But Jemin was. “I am a shifter now, Maray, and while my human side may still be me, my Yutu side is seeking a mate. If I sleep with you now, it will ruin me for anyone else.”

  “I don’t understand.” Maray ran her hand over his arms, up and down along the defined biceps and along the wires of tendons that were visible in his forearms and hands.

  “If I stop now, you will still be Maray, but if we continue, you will be my Maray.”

  “But that’s what I said. I am yours for now,” Maray objected.

  “That’s the thing. ‘For now.’ But you won’t be ‘my’ Maray. And that’s what I meant before. If you belong to anyone, it should be Allinan. But I made a mistake.” Jemin took her hands into his, making it impossible for her to feel him. “You don’t belong to Allinan. She belongs to you. Allinan is yours.”

  He kissed her on the cheek and picked up his shirt with a swift movement before he leaped into the fireplace, but he turn
ed around before he disappeared into the secret passageway. “I won’t drag your reputation into the dirt by being unable to let go of you. I won’t be the reason why Allinan loses the only worthy Princess she has.”

  And with those words, he ghosted into the darkness, leaving the room to fall back into silence as if he had never been there.

  When Pia entered the room, Maray was looking for socks. It wasn’t necessarily that she needed socks; she was wearing two pairs already, but she felt cold anyway. Jemin’s departure had left her chilled to the bones—even with her clothes back on and a thick scarf wrapped around her neck.

  “I’ve got the dress,” Pia fluted, a bit too excited for Maray’s taste as she fluffed the layered skirt over the backrest of one of the chairs.

  Maray stuffed her still shaky hands into the pockets of her jeans and forced herself to go take a closer look. The expression on her face was smooth, she hoped. There was no way anyone could learn about Jemin’s visit—at least not now before the ball. It would cause a snowball effect of people getting upset and eventually, someone doing something they would regret, whether it was Laura for worry about her reputation so close to the event or Neelis for Jemin disrespecting his orders, or Scott… even Corey and Wil would probably have something to say. But Pia was part of Neelis’ pack, Jemin’s pack. Pia couldn’t know.

  Pia beamed at her, pride brightening her eyes, and waited for Maray to assess the midnight-blue heap of fabric on the chair.

  “What am I looking at?” Maray asked, hoping Pia would explain, and all she would need to do was nod and ‘ah’ and ‘ooh’ at the right times.

  “This,” Pia said with excitement, “is Allinan’s first corset-free ball gown.”

  Maray felt moisture in her eyes. She had forbidden herself from crying her eyes out about Jemin, but now, Pia’s revelation did the job. “For me?” Maray couldn’t believe the girl would go to such lengths to make her even the slightest bit more comfortable while facing the inevitable.

  Pia nodded and held up the top part of the dress. “I had the tailor try something. A last-minute adjustment, and I am pretty certain he will never speak with me again for the stress I put him through during the past hours.” She glanced at the velvet guiltily. “But it was totally worth it.”