by Alex Lidell
River turns slowly to the balcony, locking his hands behind his back. Even shirtless and bloody, he makes just as formidable a figure. “Master Owalin. I realize you’ve control of the Great Hall just now. Is anyone inside injured? On your side or your captives. I’d like the wounded cared for, whoever they are.”
“How kind,” Owalin replies casually. “But these are my people now, and I will make decisions for their well-being.” A smile flickers across his face, falling short of his eyes. “More accurately, I will let them make their own decisions. The fate of each kingdom is in their own royals’ hands—follow my orders, and all shall be well. I encourage you to help them see reason quickly, River—in the next forty-seven minutes, preferably, lest I am forced to execute another one of my guests.”
Before River can respond, Owalin disappears in a swirl of red.
Letting the pause rest just long enough for the humans to shift their attention from the keep back to where he stands, River nods to the crowd. “Owalin is correct in one aspect—I am the ruler of Slait, one of the three kingdoms in the immortal realm.” His voice echoes over the cobblestones, the smoldering remains of the arena silhouetting his tall body. “I regret the necessity of the disguises that my quint and I wore until now, but our original mission was to ensure that your lives continue undisturbed by magical forces. Unfortunately, the Night Guard, who holds many of your loved ones captive now, had other plans.”
River pauses, letting the words seep through the bewildered gazes now watching his every move. Letting this new reality slowly settle over them—as long as they believe what he’s saying. Even as furious as I am at him, I almost feel a sense of relief, watching the powerful male do what he was supposed to do all those months ago—lead us.
The tension in the air is so fierce, I feel it pressing on my skin, the pressure growing with every passing heartbeat. As it climbs to what feels like a breaking point, River raises his voice again. “The Night Guard, and their leader Owalin, is an enemy of my kingdom, as he is an enemy of yours. I offer you an alliance. Together, we can stand against Owalin and the darkness he brings with him. The situation we face is difficult but not insurmountable, so long as we have a unified front. My quint and I will be in the library awaiting your decision.”
Turning on his heel, River motions for the males to rise, but clamps a heavy hand on my shoulder when I start to do the same.
“One matter to attend to before we go,” River says, his hard gray eyes gripping me as firmly as his damn hand. “Leralynn of Slait. You lost control of your magic today, an accident that destroyed a vital part of this Academy and endangered hundreds of mortal lives. Am I wrong?”
4
Lera
My stomach clenches, dropping as I realize the male is not letting this go.
“I asked you a question,” River snaps, his voice cracking through the air with enough sting to make the watching humans flinch right alongside me.
Behind me, Coal, Shade, and Tye stand silent and motionless. The whole of the courtyard’s attention tightens around me like a noose as I kneel before a man who is supposed to wrap me in his arms. I swallow—or try to, my mouth too dry for even such a small feat. As if in jest, the grass I kneel on is soaked with the water that was dragged over the courtyard to douse the flames. The earth’s juices seep through the remains of my red dress to chill my knees.
Forcing my face up, I look back at River as if the male and I are having a chat over dinner. As if River has simply taken a jest too far. “If you get into the habit of asking questions to which you already know the answer, you’ll find that conversations quickly grow dull.”
A tiny chuckle brushes across the crowd, overshadowed by a far larger sense of morbid curiosity, hundreds of people leaning in just a bit closer.
River stares right back, jaw tight, the patches of dried blood on his thickly muscled torso giving him the grisly appearance of a warrior in battle. “Leralynn of Slait, I asked whether it was you who set fire to the arena. Make me repeat myself once more, and I will do so with a lash.”
My heart stops. So do all the murmurs and whispers racing through the watching courtyard, the tension in the air shifting to something new. A thick, self-righteous content. They still crave justice for the arena. Vengeance for their pain. They want me to suffer as they did.
And suddenly, I understand. If River doesn’t deliver that justice before this temporary cease-fire expires, the mob will take it right back into their own hands.
River thinks he is protecting me. What he doesn’t understand is that this, all this, is a thousand times worse for coming from him. I did set the arena aflame, and I’ll take whatever punishment I’m due, but not from him. Not from my mate, who’s just regained his memories, who is supposed to hold me tight and let the stars be damned.
“Do it! Punish her!” someone shouts, the call dying quickly as the iron control River has of the courtyard somehow clamps down on the hundreds of watching humans.
River raises a brow at me, his message gut-clenchingly clear. I don’t want to take this further than I must. But I will. Make no mistake.
Behind me, a growl that must be Coal’s sounds for a moment before River’s gaze silences the male with the same cutting efficiency with which he’d raked the courtyard. If Coal thinks the threat real, I’d be a fool to doubt it. My face heats, the humiliation rising inside me giving way to a fear that shakes my body.
“Yes,” I say, hurrying to speak before River—whose mouth is already opening—utters another word. “I lost control of my magic. Is that what you want so desperately to hear me say?”
“I want the truth,” says River.
“I lost my grip.” Ripping my gaze from River’s face, I survey the strained, silent faces, all watching and waiting. Giving me a chance to speak.
So I do. Ignoring River, I speak to the people who—unlike the male—have the right to demand an explanation. “As magic rushed into the mortal world, I saw Han readying to throw a knife into my mate’s heart. Into Tye’s heart.” A shudder runs through me at the memory. “In that moment, I thought about nothing but stopping him. I’d intended for the fire magic to strike Han alone, but the power got away from me.”
My chest tightens as I take in the soot and burns marring so many people’s skin, my voice wavering. When I speak again, my words are softer, though they still carry as they scrape at my soul. “That is an explanation, not an excuse. No matter the intention, my mistake hurt you—the very people I came here to protect. You are owed more than an apology, but you have it anyway.” I swallow, my pounding heart only now realizing how badly it aches to make amends. I brush my gaze over the crowd, not knowing what I’m seeking until I find it. Find the princess who’d once swallowed all her pride to kneel before me for the sake of her people.
Katita’s usually perfect blonde hair is in disarray, her beautiful blue-green eyes bloodshot and shadowed despite all the strength she pours into holding herself upright.
“I’m sorry I endangered your people,” I say to her alone, my skin so hot that the chill wind feels like shards of ice across my cheeks. “I submit to your judgment.”
Katita’s eyes widen slightly, surprise, intelligence, responsibility all flashing through her exhausted gaze. When she steps forward, her jaw is set so tightly that I can see the muscle tremble with the effort—but her voice is as regal and clear as ever.
“Leralynn of Slait, you started the arena fire,” the princess says, and though she is looking at me, her words are plainly meant for the hundreds of people gathered in the courtyard. “But I see now that this is all you did. The attack on the Great Hall, the actions of the Night Guard who hold my father and sister hostage, they are not your doing. I accept your apology with no reservation.”
For a moment, all I can do is stare at Katita, convinced I must have heard her wrong, that something degrading will surely follow—but it does not.
Standing a few paces away from the princess, River shifts his weight, his shoulders loos
ening the tiniest fraction—the equivalent of a sigh of relief for the male.
“Commander River.” Katita lifts her face to look over my shoulder. “On behalf of my people, I consider the arena fire behind us. As for the current crisis—and the news of your origins—I ask that you do as you offered and grant us some space as we decide how best to proceed.”
“Of course, Your Highness. We shall be in the library if you have need of us.” Turning, River bows to Katita before extending his hand down to help me rise, the callused palm open.
I ignore it. Rising to my feet, I busy myself with dusting off my knees just to avoid having to look at the males.
As River starts leading the males and me back to the library, plainly expecting me to follow like a well-trained dog, it’s all I can do to keep my stinging tears from spilling onto my cheeks. The small measure of borrowed dignity stretches hair thin as we pass by the shocked crowd to file into the library entrance, where the familiar bells greet our arrival—and finally snaps in half, along with the fragile hold I have on my feelings.
5
River
River swayed on his feet, setting his hand against the edge of a table to keep upright, barely registering the other males’ retreat to a far corner of the library. The sheer terror ripping through him since the moment he marked the mob closing on Leralynn was only now beginning to recede, leaving him shaking. Stars. The trigger on the humans’ violence had been featherlight—it was thanks to the stars’ own grace that Leralynn walked out of there with nothing bleeding but her pride.
Even though she hated him now.
River swallowed as he watched the girl turn her back to him and stare out the window. What remained of her strapless red dress hugged her curves, the smears of dirt and blood saturating the silky cloth with the same stubborn, unyielding grit that always coursed inside Lera’s veins. Her thick auburn hair hung loose past her shoulders, the thick braid she favored wearing on the left side somehow still intact and elegant.
River rubbed his chest. It still hurt to breathe, each inhalation sending a stab of pain through his ribs. Owalin’s knife had cut deep—but the self-inflicted wound struck deeper still. The memories that had been flooding his blood ever since he opened his eyes to find Shade’s yellow gaze and silver magic gripping him fiercely were enough to bring any male to his knees.
There was something else going on too. Shade had been beside himself when River had regained consciousness, the usually steadfast healer half-crazed at Leralynn’s absence from the library. Whatever happened to put the male in that state while River was unconscious, it would need to be dealt with. But not now. Now, River had plenty on his mind just working through everything he remembered.
He had been riding with the others, Leralynn cantering ahead on her mare. And then, then there was a grand explosion in his mind, and he’d forgotten Lera altogether, his soul bottling up his mate’s essence in the only way it could—an invented memory of a wife named Diana. Yes, River had tripped and lost himself—but his mate had picked up the quint’s standard and carried them all forward, no matter what obstacles life and magic and River himself had set in her path.
Now, with the return of his memories—and the monumental understanding of what Leralynn had accomplished to keep the quint and the Academy safe while the males remained under the amulets’ spell—River’s first instinct had been to fall to his knees beside her. To tell the female who’d given up everything of herself to protect the quint just how much he valued what she’d done. How much he loved her.
He’d forced her to her knees instead.
Yes, he’d done it to protect her. To control the narrative and separate Lera’s accidental fire from the Night Guard’s deliberate assault. To keep the mortals from trying to take their hatred for Owalin out on River’s mate. But he’d had to hurt her to do it, as he would have had to hurt any member of the quint. She’d set fire to an arena full of people—there wasn’t exactly a way to gloss over that.
Yet as much as River’s head knew all that, all his soul could see now was the single tear spilling onto Lera’s cheek, though her whole body trembled with the effort to keep herself together. Feigning strength that had been exhausted long ago as she’d single-handedly held the quint together, staying the course of their mission when River himself did not.
Pushing away from the table with a soft groan, he stepped toward where Lera still stood by the window. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her soft body against his chest even as she struggled, her muscles tense with the anguish he’d inflicted. The girl’s soft lilac scent mixed with the salty brush of tears and the light tang of wet earth that still clung to the hem of her dress.
“Let go of me,” she snapped, pushing away with all the power in her small, tired body. “I hate you, River.”
“I know you do.” That made two of them. River held tighter, pressing Lera’s face into the groove of his shoulder as he lowered himself into a chair. His healing wound twitched once as he lifted the struggling girl onto his lap, holding her tight. The other males were still hiding in some back aisle until whatever this was blew over—which River thought was a mite unwise, given how the tightening of Leralynn’s muscles all but promised that he would need Shade’s help again shortly.
As if hearing his thoughts, Leralynn drew her hand back and shoved him with all her might, her position on his lap draining the power—if not intent—from the blow. Well, he deserved that and more. He was well aware that there was no amount of comfort he could offer to undo the pain he’d caused, but he offered it anyway. Spreading one hand along Lera’s ribs, he used the other to stroke her back and silky hair while the tears she’d held at bay finally spilled from her eyes, soaking his bare chest. A heartbeat later, sobs racked her small body—sobs she could no more control than she could have stanched the humiliation River inflicted in the courtyard.
“I had to make it real,” he said quietly as her breaths finally slowed to strangled hiccups. “People got hurt in that arena. I would have killed them all before letting them lay a finger on you, but short of that, the error had to be acknowledged and paid for. Both to prove that, unlike the Night Guard, we hold ourselves to account—and for the sake of healing everyone’s soul. Yours too.”
“And you thought you were the right person to dole out punishment?” She turned her face up to him, her large brown eyes brimming with hurt and fury. “That this was how our first meeting with your memories returned should go? You could have found another way, River. Could have found someone else to do it. You chose to be the one wielding the lash. Do you know how much that hurt? “
River felt his face blanch, his chest tightening around his ribs. “No. Leralynn. Of course not. Why would you think…” Taking Leralynn’s face in both hands, River traced her cheekbones, strong and beautiful beneath delicate skin. Just like the rest of her. She’d done so much these months, fighting for the mortal world when he himself could not—and was yet so soft and vulnerable around the steel-hard core. “I was trying to hurt you the least I could, not add to it. And I hated every moment of it.”
He swallowed, the realization of how Lera had taken his actions burning his own eyes. She was still so young, so new to the fae world. And he was a bastard idiot for not thinking of that. “I’m the quint’s commander,” he whispered, “Never in three hundred years have I allowed anyone but me to punish one of ours. And when I saw you… When I realized what had to happen… Leralynn, I couldn’t step aside, because had it been someone else bringing you to your knees, I’d have ripped out their tongue. Tell me you understand. Please.”
Leralynn shifted, her tense body easing just a hair. “You could have given me some…signal.”
“I had to make it real, or we risked losing everything—you included.” River’s voice was soft as he dried a stray tear sliding along Lera’s creamy skin. “Plus, you are so bad a liar that even Tye has given up teaching you to cheat at cards.”
She snorted. “And you needed to show the mortals that
you could control the rabid dog under your command.”
River’s hands stopped, tightening on her shoulders. “Not a rabid dog, Leralynn,” he said, his voice harsher than he intended. “An immortal warrior with more power at her fingertips than any creature the mortal kingdom has laid eyes on. You set an arena ablaze by accident, without a moment’s thought. A power that would have left most any fae on the ground, too drained to move for days—and yet was little more than a trip hazard to you. Stars, Lera—don’t you understand how powerful you are? Because I do. And it scares me spitless.”
6
Lera
River’s words grip my chest. Powerful. Of all the words for River, the king of an entire kingdom, to use to describe me, that was not one I expected. Slipping off the male’s lap, I stand between his open thighs, River’s face tilting up a bit to keep our gazes locked. “You think I’m powerful?”
River snorts softly, shaking his head. “Stars, Leralynn. How can you not know it by now?”
“But—”
“I could feel your power even when I thought you a cadet,” he whispers. “Even when I didn’t know who you were, when I could feel nothing of the mating bond, I knew you could eclipse the sun itself if you put your mind to it… Or, well, your emotions.” He smiles ruefully. “Just you wait until you are responsible for someone who just might destroy the universe by accident.”
I wait for River’s gaze to slip to my midsection, and when it never does, I realize the reference was for me, not the twins. In fact… My eyes widen, the antics of the courtyard suddenly a distant past. River was unconscious when the rest of us felt the heartbeats. Which means, in addition to waking to discover the mortal world on the verge of war, the male has yet to learn that he’s about to be a father.
