Dark Throne, The

by Raven Willow-Wood

  Said talents would soon be publicized to the Mearthen realms once this wedding occurred and he dreaded the prospect.

  A part of the marriage ceremony was a reciprocal blessing of blood. Once Heather accepted some of his life fluids into her body, only Mother Mearth knew what would happen considering his capabilities and being unaware of her own, the reaction could be explosive.

  The sharing of blood would merely reinforce their mate bond and in those who were not already bound in the ways Heather and Fade were, it triggered a smaller version of the binding. Marriage was a lifelong affair on Mearth and through the magick that flowed through their veins, magick that connected them to Mother Mearth, once blood was shared, it ensured a joining that never terminated.

  For a married man to sleep with a woman who was not his wife, sparked a death sentence. The power of the bond instigated this. Such a man’s magick would start to unravel inside him, slowly killing him.

  In a way, it was a lesser version of the act that had occurred between the pair of them when they were naught but children. When Elfen were small, their powers were concentrated into their tiny forms. As such, they were at their most potent. Having shared blood with Heather as a babe, the binding had overtaken his soul, rather than just his heart. A second sharing would merely enhance the connection and Fade was not entirely sure of how that was even possible. He had the horrible suspicion, that if anything were to happen to him, that if he were to be felled on the battlefield then Heather too would perish alongside him.

  He’d always known that regardless of his father’s attempts to beget another heir, the Dark Throne would one day be his and while he had believed that he would marry some nameless, faceless princess, Fade had never thought he would have to change his ways. A Warrior King he’d been born, but this bond changed things.

  With a child on the way, there was no way he was going to leave his babe to the tender mercies of a world that did not protect orphans. Even royal ones. Especially if his children had the misfortune of being born with wings.

  It was a complete about-face and one that merited much thought but at a later date.

  Heather still had to carry the child to full term and in itself, this was fraught with difficulties. It was a distinct possibility that through the marriage ceremony and this sharing of blood, on top of the pressures of this situation in which she found herself, alongside the stress that was to come from the situation in the Haden court, as well as her Elfen blood coming to the fore… She could quite easily lose the child. And whilst he mourned the babe’s loss, he tried not to ponder it too much. It was the reason why he had not informed Heather of her state.

  If she were to lose the child, then he could only hope that Heather would not suffer. He wished to protect her but there was little he could do to keep her safe in this matter. It lay with Mother Mearth.

  It was a confused Fade who walked to the bed and climbed upon it gently so as not to disturb her. She’d been napping for the last three hours, had rested through two mealtimes and he refused to awaken her. But almost as though she had sensed his determination to let her rest, her eyes fluttered open and her back arched and rippled sinuously along the sheets, pressing her gentle curves against him.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered, her voice hazy with sleep.

  “Nothing,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

  “Don't lie,” she grouched. “I can feel your heart, it’s slowed down. Changed.” She yawned. “Where have you been?”

  Before he had time to process the fact that Heather shared the ability to judge her mate’s health, he pressed his face against her jaw and whispered, “Speaking to you father.”

  She immediately stiffened and he raised a hand to her neck and began to knead the tense muscles there.

  “He will speak to your mother.”

  “I hope she will not be too upset.”

  “To be frank, Heather, I could care less about her. I have seen her behavior and been disgusted by it, but I have said nothing for she is your mother. And the circumstances are untenable. To be separated from you for such a length of time…” He shook his head. “No parent should have to go through that. But no more. Whilst understanding how she has suffered, I can no longer tolerate the way she is treating you. I discussed my plans to leave with your father, but before we can depart, he has uttered a dictate. We must wed afore we can leave the borders.” He grimaced. “So ridiculous. What we have is so more important, so more vital than that. I have always hated these royal dictates. These strictures to which I must obey.” He tutted. “But my love, if it is something that will please you then I will gladly go through the parade.”

  “I think I should be offended, that you don’t want to marry me,” she teased.

  Spying her grin, he relaxed. Her teasing was real. She was not offended. Thanks be to Mother Mearth. “Bah,” he grouched. “You have no idea of the toils and ridiculous rigmarole that is part and parcel of such a ceremony. However it binds you to me in more ways and for hat I shall not grumble.”

  She pressed a kiss to his lips. “On Earth, that’s how we do things. We get married. And I know I’m a child of this place, but the idea of being wed to you pleases me. It cements what we have even if it is unnecessary. Plus what girl doesn’t dream of getting married to a tall, dark and handsome prince. “

  He snorted. “Hardly that, love.” He grimaced. “If I could, I’d bind my wings to hide them but I tried that as a boy. They protested mightily and before I’d even left the room, they sprouted out.”

  She slapped his hand against his chest. “Don’t be stupid. Your wings are you. I don’t want you to hide them.” She smiled and the lazy sensuality there, the languid passion made him return the gesture even as his body stirred in reaction.

  Heather truly did not care that he had wings. No matter how often the realization came to him, it still stunned him. Gods, he had been blessed. Mother Mearth had truly kissed his forehead at birth, to bestow upon him such a bride.

  For the moment, he would let her think of the ceremony with pleasure. He did not know how an Earthen wedding occurred, or the routine it followed. But he would not sway her from that belief that a Mearthen ceremony wouldn’t follow the same course.

  A part of him chomped at the bit, wanting to get the entire thing over and done with. But, her quiet pleasure at the prospect of a wedding eased him somewhat. Eased his agitation. For her, he would endure.

  But he would revel in the time, when their bindings were stronger than ever. A part of him was curious at what form that would take. But with his mate at his side, soft and warm from sleep, her belly filled with his child, he reveled in the moment. Reveled in being with her.

  His love.

  His heart.

  His very soul.

  Thoughts and worries could come later. They had now and that was all that mattered.

  Chapter Twelve

  Heather didn’t want this.

  She really didn’t. In fact, she wanted this wedding less than she wanted a hole in the goddamn head.

  And it wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry Fade, because she really did. It was that marrying Fade was looking less likely, when she was locked up behind bars for matricide.. God, her mother was driving her insane. It had been bad before, and this was just a few days ago, but in that time, everything had managed to deteriorate terribly. This entire situation was just ten times worse.

  With the preparations for the wedding in full force, the anal retentive side to her mother had come out to play.

  The woman never let up.

  Setta was constantly haranguing Heather with details of a wedding that she had lost interest in. And she felt guilty for that. This was her wedding day they were discussing. Not some everyday

  event. Even before Fade, whose blood was tied to hers, she’d known that if she ever made it to the altar, it would be for life. She hadn’t been the sort to dream up her wedding cake design at five years

  old. Nor had she wondered abo
ut Prince Charming…

  That was ironic.

  She’d ended up with Prince Charming.

  Maybe the key to that was not to fantasize about Crown Princes and then you’d get one.

  Despite her mood, she grinned at the thought. The smile instantly disintegrated as her mother began tugging at her skirt and bitching with one of the seamstresses.

  “You’ll have to go on a diet, Heather.”

  Narrowing her eyes, hopefully lancing her mother with a gimlet stare, she bit out, “Are you saying that I’m fat? Because if you are, then I might just have to scream.”

  Apparently recognizing that she’d stepped that little bit too far, Setta waved her hands out in what she probably considered a conciliatory gesture. Having merely endured her mother’s moans and groans about whatever misdeed she’d just committed, it undoubtedly came as a surprise to Setta that on this, Heather would fight back.

  And too fucking true, would she fight.

  Hell, the woman had no right to say things like that to her. She’d known her less than fortnight. Auntie May might have had a pop on the nose if she’d dared to utter those words. Not that she would have done, but still, the sentiment was the same.

  Heather had had a weight problem back in High School. She’d gone through a time, when she’d been seriously underweight and it had been a battle and a costly one at that with specialist doctors and psychiatrists trying to bring her from the brink of anorexia.

  As such, the few excess pounds on her hips, thighs and butt were hard won. And she wasn’t fat. Common sense told her that, even if her anorexia-skewed sight couldn’t.

  She hated not being able to state that to herself. Hated having to rely on a third party for reassurance about her looks as Setta’s unthinking words triggered a waterfall of negative thoughts about her shape. She battered them down, ignored and rejected them. But she still reassured herself, that even if she was overweight, Fade’s complete pleasure in her form would have reassured her entirely that she was an attractive woman.

  Where Fade was concerned, she could trust him utterly to see her for herself and their bond was such that she felt no real discomfort in looking for the truth about her shape through his eyes.

  Now, with past boyfriends, she had.

  Their lust had indicated their attraction to her. Fade’s eyes, simmering with heat but a heat that was also dampened by love, made her feel far more confident in herself.

  “Calm down, Heather. The skirt isn’t settling well on your hips. That’s all.”

  “Well change the fucking dress then, not me.” she growled and glared at the seamstress who gasped at her curse word.

  “There’s no need to talk to me like that, Heather. In fact, I won’t stand for it. You wait until your father hears of this.”

  Heather laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You tell him. Please do. And let me tell you that I almost died from being too thin, when I was a teenager. So don't you dare start preaching at me about weight loss. My body is fine and there's no way in hell that I'm about to start messing with it, when I'm at a healthy weight and the proper size for my body. Especially not for a goddamn dress.”

  She'd been stood in the center of the room on top of a pedestal as the team of seamstresses that her mother had brought in to create the wedding dress of the year, had twittered around her. Making corrections and alterations as she endeavored not to move an inch.

  Hell, she'd learned that early on. Move a muscle and that muscle would get stabbed with a pin or a needle. Whether it was by accident or on purpose, Heather didn't know. If it was for the latter, then the training routine worked. Christ, she'd been as still as a statue for the last half an hour and her feet were so far gone into pins and needles that they’d disappeared entirely. On top of that, she’d been bloody bored too.

  She wasn’t going to endure this shit if her mother was going to come out with such thoughtless nonsense.

  Heather gathered her skirts, heard the distressed gasps from the seamstresses as tears rent through the fabric, the sounds filling the room.

  “Wait. Don't destroy the dress.”

  “I don't care about the dress. What the hell is wrong with you? I'm here, you haven't seen me for over two decades and all you've been doing this past month is bitch at me. Complain about the way May raised me. At my lack of manners and knowledge about local customs. Or about some other crap.” She paused a moment and sucked in a huge gulp of air. One of the women that hovered about her mother -the Elfen didn't appear to have a title for the role, but she thought it was akin to a

  Lady in Waiting- began to shuffle the seamstresses out of the room.

  Apparently, the Queen couldn't be taken down a peg or two in front of the staff.

  “I'm your mother. You shouldn’t be talking to me this way.”

  “Oh, get over yourself. For whatever reason, you sent me to Earth. The only mother I've ever known is Aunt May. She was there for me, when you weren't. And it probably isn't your fault, but nothing will change those two decades. You can bitch at me all you want, make me miserable if it makes you feel as though you're my mother, but I won't be here. As soon as this farce of a fucking wedding is over, I'm going with Fade. And as it stands, I don't care if I never see you again. You've made me miserable, Setta. Do you know that? These past few weeks… I've spent my entire life wishing I'd known you. Hating that fate had taken you away from me and left me as an orphan. This could have been so different. Instead of making me love you, you've made me hate you.”

  She'd been harsh. Too harsh, probably. But at the same time, only Fade had got her through these last few weeks. Only his calming presence had made it all bearable. Had she been alone and left to deal with Setta, then she'd have been in tears every night.

  Heather wished it could have been different. It hadn't had to be this way, but the moment Setta had turned from a relieved mother into a bitching harpy, that was the second their relationship had gone down the drain.

  Everything had started with such promise. It was such a damned shame. Enough to make her want to weep with the tragedy of it. But she was too fired up to cry. She was sick of it. Sick of being criticized. Sick of her every action being dissected and then commented over with a grand critique of what she should have done instead.

  No more.

  She'd had enough.

  Setta's mouth bobbed open and shut as though she was in some kind of stuporous shock at being spoken to in that way.

  All Heather knew, was that if Setta treated the people in her kingdom the same way she did her daughter, then there would be a rebellion every day of the bloody week.

  That the people of Jender were content with their royal family either spoke loudly of her father's popularity and diplomacy, or that the face Setta showed the rest of the world wasn't the one that glanced upon Heather.

  “You can't speak to me like this. I won't have it.”

  Out of all of her words, that Setta's reaction was at Heather's audaciousness and not the content… well, Heather immediately deflated.

  What was the point? What was the goddamn point?

  No matter what she said or did, Setta was never happy.

  She spun away and strode from the center of the room to one of the windows that overlooked the central keep. Down below, hundreds of Elfen were going about their business. Each one entirely unaware of the fight occurring just a few thousand feet away.

  “Rather than being shocked at what I´ve said, why not react to them? I wanted my mother. I wanted to know her just like I did and do my father. But you're making it impossible.” Sadness welled in her soul overriding her earlier anger. Bitter upset had tears prickling her eyes as she stared down at the central courtyard that heaved with life.

  Her stomach clenched with the pain of her emotions and suddenly, without even knowing how, Heather realized that Fade felt her pain and was coming to her. Her heartbeat quickened in reaction. Not because she was in anyway exerting herself, but because he was. He was running to get to her.
She could sense his panic and didn't have a damn clue of how to stop it, of how to reassure him.

  Her mind was turned inwards, turned towards Fade, so much so that when her mother pressed a hand to her shoulder she jerked in surprise, her head shooting around to find the unknown threat.

  The look of bitterness on Setta's face as she removed her hand and took a step back was enough to have sadness arching through her again. That the older woman believed she´d just been rejected, was evident from the pain on her face.

  The irony was that this time, Heather hadn't meant to reject.

  She'd hoped to do that with her words and try to encourage Setta into changing. Into behaving differently. Anything to force the untenable situation into improving. Because it couldn't have deteriorated much more.

  The door burst open and prevented Heather from saying much, as Fade exploded into the room, eyes darting about as he sought the source of Heather's misery. As soon as they lit upon Setta, his face darkened. Brows lowering, mouth scowling, he growled, “What have you done now?”

  Setta gasped. And before a peep could escape her mouth, Heather knew what she was about to say. Down to the last letter. “How dare you speak to me like that?”

  “Christ, you're like a broken record. Stop saying that. In this room, you're not a Queen. You're my mother. Or is that not as important as your role in the kingdom?”

  At her words, the other woman's skin blanched, making her face pasty.

  “I will not have you upsetting my mate. Why on Mearth do you persist in treating her thusly? Do you fail to see her upset? Her misery at the way you speak to her and ask of her things that are outside of her ken?” While anger graced his features, Fade also looked perplexed as he strode over to Heather and tucked her against his side.

  It was rather charming to be so protected. For a man to have sensed her upset and to have ceased whatever he was doing to charge after her, to discern the reason for her sadness. While she would have done exactly the same thing if she'd sensed his distress, she ignored that for a moment and indulged in simply being pressed close to the man who completed her heart and soul.