She flinched again.
“You told me to learn where I went wrong,” she said, her voice smaller than she would have liked.
It shrank to a squeak at the end when he turned on her again.
“I didn’t fucking tell you to bring a death squad down on Fuery!”
She rallied and growled at him. “Prince Loren swears he will not tell the council. He lies to them about his own brother. He already knew Fuery was tainted and did not send the squad after him.”
Hartt slowed to a halt and muttered, “I suppose that is true. And just who do you know at the castle anyway?”
“A male, we grew up in the same village. His name is Bleu.”
Hartt’s violet eyes shot wide again. “Bleu? Commander fucking Bleu? The high almighty son of a bitch who idolises Fuery while he wants my fucking head on a spike?”
She wasn’t aware of that. “He knew Fuery when I knew him, back when he served in the legions.”
“I fucking know that,” Hartt interjected. “Fuery has a soft spot for him. Gods only know why. Bleu has no love for the tainted.”
“If you would let me finish,” she snapped and her own eyes widened at the tone of her voice, at the venom that had been in it. If anyone in the elf kingdom heard her talking to a male like that, she would be ostracised. She softened her tone. “Bleu is the one who told me Fuery wasn’t dead.”
“Fuck me.” Hartt slumped into his tall-backed black leather chair, as if all his strength had suddenly left him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he closed his eyes.
He looked pale again.
Drained.
“Is something wrong?” she said, keeping her tone soft and low, hoping to calm him.
He ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw popping, and grimaced. “It is Fuery and our bond. Whenever he gets like this, it… it just makes me a little tired and testy.”
That was an understatement.
“It does more than that. It pushes you towards the darkness too.” She waited for him to deny it.
He didn’t.
She couldn’t help but wonder what damage he had done to himself with the blood bond between him and Fuery, and she also couldn’t thank him enough, because she wasn’t as stupid as he thought her. She knew that without the bond between him and Hartt, she would have lost Fuery long ago.
“You are not alone now.” She leaned forwards and placed her right hand on his ebony desk, stretching it towards him. “I will use my bond to help bring Fuery back and give him peace so he can begin to heal, and you can too.”
Hartt’s eyes narrowed again. “It was your bond to Fuery that drove him into this state. Fuery felt you reopen it and forge a stronger one between you.”
The guilt she had felt on suspecting as much flooded her again, a torrent that was stronger this time and threatened to carry her with it. She clung to the slender thread of hope that had kept her going over the past few weeks.
But even as she clung to it, hope began to leach from her.
What hope was there when her attempt to reconnect with Fuery had driven him mad and hurled him deeper into the darkness?
Hartt breathed a deep sigh, tipped his head back against the rear of his leather seat and closed his eyes.
“Give him time,” he murmured, sounding as tired as he looked. “A few days and he will be settled again, and maybe then you can see him… although I am not sure it will do much good.”
There was something he wasn’t telling her.
He opened his eyes and slid her a look that told her not to ask, and warned her he wouldn’t answer if she did.
But she needed to know.
“What is it you are hiding from me about Fuery?” Whatever it was, it felt as if knowing it was vital if she wanted to help her mate.
“We are done for now.” Hartt stood, his regal tone and cold air making it clear he meant it and she wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. He rounded the desk, caught her arm and pulled her out of the chair. He marched her to the door, opened it and pulled her along the corridor, not slowing his pace until he reached the entrance of the guild and pushed her through it. “I need to go somewhere and you cannot be here.”
“I will return in a few days.” Surprise danced through her when he didn’t tell her to leave, or not return, or push her away.
He just nodded, pivoted on his heel and strode back into the imposing black building.
Shaia took a few steps backwards, her eyes roaming up the height of it to the third floor where the façade rose in a steep triangle to meet in a point above a stunning circular stained-glass window that sat above the arched doorway. The towers that flanked the entrance rose higher still, spearing the dark vault of Hell, their conical tiled roofs reminding her of the castle in the elf kingdom.
She wasn’t sure she would be able to wait a few days before the need to see Fuery overwhelmed her, driving her to return to the guild.
She wasn’t sure she could go further than a few steps from this very spot, not without hurting herself. She needed to be close to Fuery. Her instincts had awoken at the same time as the connection they shared, and they pushed her to stay near to her mate, in case he needed her.
Because he needed her.
She looked around at the broad cobbled street that curved along the front of the guild, and the dark stone buildings that lined the other side, facing it. Some were private residences by the looks of them, large and regal affairs that were two or three storeys in height and had fine carving on their stone walls. A few were stores, the bottom level being the shop with large glass windows that displayed goods, and the second level having smaller windows, most likely used as the home of the shopkeeper.
One was an inn.
It was off to her left, a few buildings down, placing it closer to the side of the guild where Fuery’s quarters were, and one of the rooms at the front of the top two storeys would give her a good view of the entrance of the guild.
She strode towards it.
She would give Fuery a few days.
And then she would see him again.
CHAPTER 12
Fuery’s heart hitched at the sight of her as she appeared over the brow of the hill, the strong sunlight threading her long dark wavy hair with gold highlights that matched the colour of her fine dress. He couldn’t help but notice she had chosen not to wear her sturdy work clothes today.
The gauzy layers of fabric swayed around her slender legs as she walked, teasing him with glimpses of their forms, stirring his blood, and light glinted off the elaborate wrought silver swirls that formed a corset over her torso.
Her stunning violet eyes widened as they landed on where the camp had been on the flat ground at a bend in the river, and he swore he felt her pain as she dropped the wash basket she clutched in her arms.
He pushed away from the tree as he willed his portal and purple-blue light traced over him. He stepped into the teleport, coming out of it right in front of her.
The pain that had been in her, the darkness, turned to light, illuminating her face and shining in her eyes.
“You did not think I would stand you up, did you?” He stooped and picked up the basket for her, when all he really wanted to do was gather her into his arms and never let her go.
When he straightened and smiled for her, her pain seemed forgotten, the light in her eyes glowing brighter as her soft pink lips curved into a gentle smile of her own.
“I do not have long.” He cursed himself when all that light drained from her beautiful face, and stepped towards her. The basket he held bumped into her, a barrier between them that he had forgotten. He quickly set it down beside him and straightened again. He reached for her hands and she didn’t deny him, and she didn’t hesitate to place her delicate ones into his either. “We will be back this way soon. I swear it. I will come back. Would you… will you… wait for me?”
Gods.
Would she?
There was a vast difference in their standing, and it was
a miracle that she had spoken to him last time, and had come back to meet with him again in secret. Would she bend the rules further to wait for him? Or would she return to her world, one where he didn’t belong?
She surprised him by squeezing his hands and nodding.
He lifted her right hand to his lips and pressed them to it, stealing a kiss and breathing her in, memorising her scent so she would be with him whenever he needed her. Her pulse ticked against his lips, a quick rhythm that had his racing faster. He closed his eyes and tried to place her scent.
Blood.
Tinny and revolting, even as it was tempting.
Fuery snapped his eyes open and stared at the crimson that glistened on his razor-sharp black claws.
Endless darkness surrounded him, black lands that were grim and desolate. The wide valley rose in the distance around him into jagged peaks that towered high into the dim sky. He looked down at his feet.
At the scattered bodies that littered the churned dark earth.
The scent of death hung heavy in the thick air.
Blood that he had spilled.
He closed his eyes and pushed away from the nightmarish sight, back towards the light, because he needed to see more of his beautiful mate.
Even when he knew it would only pain him.
The darkness resisted and then parted to reveal the warmth of candlelight, hundreds of them burning in gilded chandeliers, illuminating an enormous rectangular room with high arched windows set into the pale stone walls.
A ball.
Nerves shot through him as people jostled him, their scents swirling around him into a blur that made it impossible to distinguish one from the next. He wiped his palms on the front two long sections of his formal jacket and swallowed hard as his eyes leaped around, scanning the faces of the attendees.
Eight lunar cycles.
He had been away for eight lunar cycles.
Had she waited for him?
Gods, he feared his beautiful female was gone, slipped from his grasp, or perhaps she had been a mere figment of his imagination.
He had dreamed of her so much that she seemed born of that unearthly world now rather than reality.
Eight lunar cycles and he finally had a reason to return to the village where he had left her.
He paced a few steps back and forth, feeling as if the nervous energy buzzing in his veins would overwhelm him if he didn’t keep moving.
Just days ago, his commander, a highborn male, had pulled him into a meeting in his office in the garrison at the castle and had announced he was hosting a party—a grand ball—at his dwelling near the village and that many of the noble families were due to attend.
Fuery had wanted to lash out verbally at Andon for rubbing his nose in the fact he was free to come and go from the castle as he pleased, and able to return to the village Fuery longed to see again.
Liable to see the female he was dying to return to as promised.
Until his commander had told him that he would be coming with him, because he believed they should celebrate his achievement too.
Fuery had been working hard, had near-exhausted himself in order to rise within the ranks. Half a lunar cycle ago, he had achieved the position of assistant to the second commander, who had also been invited to the ball.
He had done it all for her.
For his beautiful female.
He wanted her family to approve of him, despite the differences in their breeding, because he had also come to realise something else.
She was his fated one.
His ki’ara.
It had only taken him a few weeks after leaving her to realise the reason behind why he couldn’t stop dreaming of her, why he felt compelled to return to her every hour of the day and needed to see her again and see she was safe.
It had been hard to stay away and resist that need to be close to her, and had been sheer torture to keep his distance until he was ready. Now he felt good enough to approach her and her family and make it known to them that he was her fated male.
It didn’t ease the hold his nerves had on him though.
If anything, the thought of approaching the female and her family, and presenting himself to them, made his nerves worse. They were gradually fraying his sanity, and he feared that if he didn’t see her soon, he would go mad.
Fuery stilled right down to his soul when he caught her scent.
Lavender and sweet dew.
His head turned, gaze zipping to her as she entered the room on the arm of an older male dressed in an elegant tailored tunic and trousers that put his own formal clothing to shame.
Gods, she was beautiful.
He could only stare as she turned heads in the room, her lilac dress hugging her shapely figure and flowing down her arms from her shoulders, held over her torso by a fine silver metal corset. Her blue-black hair had been pulled back from her face, pinned at the back of her head and allowed to tumble down from there in a cascade of waves and curls that bounced with each light step.
The soft pink lips he had been dreaming of for eight long cycles had been painted a darker shade, luring his eyes down to them, but they couldn’t hold his gaze.
It slid lower, to the smooth column of her exposed throat and the stunning silver choker she wore wrapped around it, threaded with crystals that twinkled in the candlelight as brightly as her beautiful violet eyes.
Those eyes landed on him.
Widened.
He saw the shock go through her, felt it run through him too, followed by something he could easily fool himself into believing was happiness.
Gods, he wanted to go to her.
He wanted to know her name.
He had been an idiot, so flustered by being in her presence the few times they had met that he had kept forgetting to ask.
His heart picked up pace, beginning a hard drumming against his chest and in his ears as the male escorting her spotted his commander and steered her his way.
Hell, he was going to have a hard time stopping himself from killing the male if it turned out he was something to her.
Something Fuery wanted to be.
He did his best to act casually as the male glanced his way, holding his position next to his commander, and somehow resisted staring at the female as she halted close to him.
“Commander Andon. It is a pleasure to see you again.” The elegant male had a way of speaking that dripped with power born of standing in society, a regal air that had Fuery itching to do something, only he wasn’t sure what it was he wanted to do. Beat the male into a pulp? It would be a start. That need instantly dissipated when the male continued. “May I introduce my daughter, Shaia?”
Daughter.
Shaia.
Gods. She suited her name so perfectly, had the beauty to match it.
Shaia glanced at him and then her gaze leaped back to the commander and she dipped in a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And who is this young gentleman?” Her father nodded towards Fuery.
“Lieutenant Fuery of my legion. Recently promoted. We have high hopes for him. I thought since he will no doubt be taking command of his own legion soon that he could see how things work on this side of society.” Andon’s words were meant kindly, but all the light that had been building inside Fuery slowly drained from him as the male spoke.
Revealing something that had the older female beside Shaia scowling at him.
Her mother.
He recalled her from the first time he had seen Shaia, and the look she was now giving him said that she remembered him too.
And she still looked down on him.
He ignored her when Shaia moved a step to her right, coming back into view, and smiled at him.
“You have been moving up the ranks quickly since we last met.” Her smile was so bright it blinded him, purged the darkness gathering in his heart and had his nerves fading.
He nodded. “Commander Andon has been kind enough to say he has never had a soldier rise so sw
iftly from scout to lieutenant.”
Andon slapped him on the back, jerking him forwards. “Because I have not. It takes mettle to do what you have done, Fuery… strength and heart that is rare these days. Not one in twenty thousand soldiers display the fortitude and dedication you have.”
He was not going to blush at that praise. Not in front of Shaia.
The small trio of musicians stationed at the other end of the room began to warm up and the crowd parted, forming a space in the centre of the grand room. A few of the attendees partnered up and stepped onto the dance floor.
“Would you do me the honour?” He held a hand out to Shaia and focused so it didn’t shake and reveal his nerves.
Shaia didn’t hesitate to reach for him.
Until her mother spoke.
“I am afraid our daughter will not be dancing with you.” She placed a hand on Shaia’s arm and pulled it back, and then turned her cheek to him and addressed the nobles that had gathered around them. “How is it we are expected to entertain those born of lowly stock simply because the kingdom takes pity on them and gives them a position above their station? I remember a time when only nobles could be granted such positions.”
A few of the males and females nodded in agreement.
Pity? Given? He had earned his position. He had fought for it, broken bones for it.
He had killed for it.
His blood started a slow burn in his veins as he glared at her mother, catching the contempt in her gaze as she laughed with the other nobles, the expensive jewels and gold that covered her wrists and her fingers catching the light as she lifted her hand to her face to delicately cover her vicious mouth.
He fisted his hands at his sides.
Those who were given things were the nobles, not elves born with nothing as he had been.
His nails dug into his palms.
But what hurt him worse than her mother’s cruel words and condemnation, was the fact Shaia stood there and said nothing as her own flesh and blood insulted him.
Fuery didn’t bother to make his excuses.
Unchained by a Forbidden Love Page 12
