Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2

by Hailey Edwards

  He tilted his head to one side. “How would you know?”

  “I don’t know.” Impatience nipped at my heels. “Please. Go. Now.”

  He shook his head, slowly, mournfully, and my heart twisted before he spoke.

  “If there’s an existence where you don’t know me, where I have no chance, no hope of ever…then let Roland come.” His form blurred. “I want no part of a life without you in it.”

  Warmth trickled down my cheeks. I blinked, but his outline wavered. Pale skin faded to darkest ebony. His eyes glinted coal black and lovely. A sob caught in my throat as wings almost equal to his height fanned a warm breeze as they stretched behind him. “I know you, don’t I?”

  “You’ve always known me.” His features softened as he stood.

  I should have screamed for Roland, for guards or anyone else within hearing distance.

  I didn’t.

  “Who are you?” His carmine wings sagged with what I interpreted as sorrow. The clawed hooks clenched tight fists to match his hands. Every ounce of resolve I held softened.

  “I’m the friend who held you when you were frightened.” He indicated the two of us and an absent third. “When we were both scared, for ourselves, for Maddie.” He sighed. “I’m the male who leapt from the castle wall when I was ten and sure I was immortal.” His cheeks turned ruddy. “I snagged my wing on Maddie’s planter box, ripped it down the middle. You bandaged me up, like always.” He shrugged. “And the stunt was worth it, because it impressed you.”

  “Why would you do that?” I smiled through his memories, as if I saw them for myself.

  “I did it because you’re mine, Emma.” He met my gaze, challenging me to believe him or not, I wasn’t sure which. “I’ve never wanted anything as much I want you, not even freedom.”

  And then I knew. “You’re Harper.” This darker, hungrier face clicked his name in place. Fragile warmth seeped into my heart. He gauged my response with each step he took nearer.

  “I am.” He grinned at me. “And I am yours, lady. I always have been.”

  Bittersweet agony split my head open and poured life in, filling the foggy crags where Roland had buried his compulsions. Nausea chased every drop of information until I sloshed with the volume of my knowledge. Maddie, Nesvia, my diner, Earth, Feriana, it flooded me.

  For one sparkling moment, I found clarity. I knew what I wanted. To sleep curled up behind Harper, hold him close to the heart he owned and breathe him in at night. Be at peace.

  Fingernails tore, and the sharp pain grounded me to the fact I’d sank my claws in the heavy bedpost at my elbow. Shock radiated through me, amazed to learn I wanted those things.

  I wanted this dark-skinned male who once tucked me against his chest at night while we stared into open skies at twin moons. I wanted the male who called me Emma-mine and made me believe I was his. The male I’d mortally wounded by saying I didn’t belong to him when I should have clarified I didn’t deserve to be his. Tears brimmed in my eyes. I wanted Harper.

  He was still mine. He’d said so. My heart fluttered as if there had never been any doubt.

  Harper stopped when our chests met, pried my fingers from the post and held my hands. His head lowered, lips brushing my cheek, whispering promise over my jaw. He nipped my chin, and I ducked, impatient, claiming his mouth and squeezing his hands until our bones scraped.

  Behind us metal groaned.

  I fisted Harper’s shirt. “He’s coming.”

  Roland’s voice drifted down the hall, muffled as it filtered through the sliver of door.

  “Hide,” I hissed and shoved Harper behind the bed. It was all I could think to do.

  “Did you say something, lovely?” Roland’s smile widened as he latched the door closed.

  Delicious anger sparkled through my glamour, revealing the evidence of who I had been.

  “Only that I missed you.” I smiled as he swaggered up to me as if he owned me. In his addled, royal brain, he no doubt thought he did. That I was no longer a slave, no longer beholden to his kind, meant nothing. He had raped my mind as surely as he would have my body. The fact he made me want it carved my stomach hollow and set my temper ablaze.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Roland kept his distance, fondling one coat pocket, of which I could guess the contents. Heavy brocade fabric hung undone at his neck, exposing his white undershirt and starched collar.

  “I must apologize.” He executed a mock bow, careful to keep my gaze, and I seethed at how he taunted me with his mirage of civility. “I regret my business liaison ruined our evening.”

  “I’ve only just awakened.” In more ways than one. “Has the dance ended?”

  “I’m afraid so.” He gestured toward his state of undress. “I passed the last revelers on my way to your door.” His lips crooked to one side. “While the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

  “You did say the queen was away.” I kept the concern from my voice. Aaron said she had closed her court, not that she wouldn’t arrive in Rihos at all. But his information had come from Rideal, which meant Roland must have overheard while waiting for my courier. “Where is she?”

  His eyes narrowed, and I bit my tongue. You might as well tell him you’ve broken his thrall. “I mean, you mentioned her earlier.” I smiled prettily, and I widened my eyes, hoping I projected all things docile and oblivious. “I would have liked to see her. She must be lovely.”

  “I suppose.” He glanced past me, toward the bed, long enough to make me sweat. “How are you feeling? You seemed…tired when I left. I didn’t imagine I’d find you up and about yet.”

  He meant he hadn’t expected his thrall to wear thin so soon. No wonder he carried a cautious air and death grip on his vial of tricks. “I’m well.” I rested my palm across my stomach. “I’m embarrassed to admit, my hunger woke me.” Now that I mentioned it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and my stomach gurgled in convincing complaint. My halfling metabolism demanded I consume enough calories to shame most females. I could eat Harper or any other demon male under the table, and if, when, we escaped, food topped my priority list.

  “I’ve neglected you.” He extended his hand, and I went to him, the better to put distance between us and our hidden voyeur. “Is there anything you’d like? I can order from the kitchen.”

  Acceptance almost sprang forth, but I couldn’t lower my guard while he held a pocketful of magic. “Have you eaten?” If not, a meal would buy me time to think of a way out of this.

  “I have, yes.” He caressed my forearms. “I was served while attending Garrett.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lip as he stroked my skin, and he must have misinterpreted the gesture.

  His eyes darkened with pure masculine intent. “Now that you mention it, I’m famished.”

  Reeling me in, he kissed the side of my neck. I swallowed my disgust and made my decision. I wasn’t vain enough to believe Roland’s interest in me was more than a passing fancy.

  Other factors were in play. And I believed Harper was at the heart of them. Either Roland wanted me for my connection to Harper, which seemed plausible given the fact he had lured Harper from the safety of his colony and the protection of his diplomatic immunity, or he wanted me for some reason to do with one of my sisters. Maddie didn’t fit this equation, but Nesvia…

  He’d mentioned her while my mind was too muddled to grasp the implications.

  I shivered with revulsion when Roland’s tongue traced my collarbone. His deft fingers worked the laces of my corset, stopping when ribbon knotted, then he swiped his arm across his forehead. The room’s window was shut tight, and heat made my clothes sticky and his hands slick.

  I licked my lips, fighting instinct’s call to punish him for touching me, and I tasted the salty tang of sweat.

  Progesaline. I must have gasped, because he worked the tangle with renewed vigor.

  Salt was the key. It must be. I remembered now, Garrett mentioned mares sickened by an overdose of progesaline.
The Bernhards bred horses, but surely nonnative animals didn’t require salt as demons did? How could I ask without his answer being another dose of memory erasure?

  “You are exquisite, lady.” Roland tossed my corset aside and tugged the chemise at my elbow until he bared my shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the exposed skin, he strung kisses in a line until he reached the base of my neck. I lay my head back, playing along, as my mind whirred.

  “Do you think…” I winced when he bit me, “…we might take Baselios for a ride, after?”

  “Anything my lady wishes.” He dug his fingers deep in my hipbones, pinning me to him.

  “Anything?” I laughed, fearing the strained sound. I reached behind me, cradling his head, when I wanted to wrench him from me. “Do you think I might own such a horse one day?”

  Now he laughed at me. “I suppose it never hurts to have ambition.”

  “You mentioned mares earlier,” I hedged. “Are all their foals accounted for?”

  “The list for my Nisean line stretches as long as my arm.” He stiffened behind me, and not where I’d expected. “Those foals will seal Sere’s reputation, and the Bernhard name, as premiere equine breeders.” His grip bruised me. “None in this realm will rival our stock’s bloodlines.”

  Even knowing he had tangled Nesvia in his plans, I knew too little of horses to ask the right questions. I weighed my options. Soon Roland would realize I was thinking for myself, likely the second I denied him. If I waited until he reached that point, he’d have the advantage.

  In jest, I said the first thing that came to mind. “Soon your kingdom will rival Askara.”

  “Yes.” His breath fanned my nape, the scent addictive. “It will.”

  Fear traipsed up my spine, freezing me in place, too stiff to spin around or run away. Fragments of his spat with Garrett rang in my ears. They’ve lost one queen, a second is treason.

  What did he mean? It was no secret Rideal had dethroned Eliya so that Nesvia could assume her title, but such coups were socially acceptable, even laudable in Askara. But to depose Nesvia made no sense. She and Rideal had no heir, which meant Maddie would become the rightful ruler of Askara, but I doubted she would ever step foot in this realm for a visit, let alone cross the gateway with the intent to remain and govern this place. I saw no benefit for Sere.

  Without Nesvia, the DeGray crown would fall. Askara would be in upheaval, yes, but I couldn’t imagine Sere gaining the upper hand by coaxing such events to transpire.

  As a matter of principle, if Sereians assassinated the last of Askara’s ruling line, there would be war. And Sere, whose occupants were known for horse breeding and other gentlemanly pursuits, wouldn’t survive. Their entire military force, save a handful of soldiers, was required to remain in Askara and hold Nesvia’s throne. Otherwise, Rideal would be deemed an unfit consort.

  The limited claim to protection, to power, Sere gained through their alliance with Askara would revert tenfold. No. I saw no gain for them. I imagined no possible goal worth anarchy.

  Roland fisted my chemise and the fabric gave. With a grunt, he realized the tail end wouldn’t come untucked unless he removed my skirt. I let him work the closures, saving me time later. When the heavy fabric pooled at my ankles, he spun me, guiding my step onto bare stone.

  As I turned, I caught sight of Harper. No glamour. No cover. No mistaking his intent.

  His wings tucked close to his spine, darker than I’d seen them, not red, but mud brown.

  I pleaded with my gaze for a second longer to think, to ask, to do something for Nesvia.

  He shook his head slowly. Roland wasn’t walking away from this. A sliver of pity wormed its way through me. If Roland had used magic, I could blame him for our indelicate predicament, but he hadn’t. I’d played him, hoping to learn the reason for his charade.

  When silver gleamed in Harper’s eyes, I knew the time for negotiations had passed.

  I traced the open collar of Roland’s shirt until my hands met behind his head. I ran my fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his skull, his neck. Then I bent forward and jerked him toward me as hard as I could. His forehead caught the crown of my head, and he grunted, grabbing me for balance before sliding into a heap at my feet. My eyes crossed and stars danced in my vision. Hard male fingers closed over my forearm, twisting me around when I was already punch-drunk from headbutting Roland and listing to one side.

  I groaned. “If one more person grabs me—”

  My hands hit Harper’s chest seconds after his mouth closed over mine. In the next instant, he withdrew. His lip curled as he glared at Roland. “The next male who touches you, no matter who initiates contact, dies. Understand?”

  I felt the safest course of action was agreement.

  Harper struggled against the urge to wring Roland’s neck. Emma’s pale fingers clenched in his hair might as well have been twisting in Harper’s as fast as the gesture snatched him to his feet. When Roland touched her, intimately, and Emma faked her response, nothing short of her quick stunt would have stopped Harper from ripping the offending hand from the Sereian’s body.

  Every caress from Roland, every uneasy second of the encounter, called to mind a time Harper had spent trapped by another’s desire, forced to earn his keep, pay his dues with his body. She deserved better than to dirty herself with such filth. For all her railing at him for things she’d done in his absence, had she never considered what he’d done to survive in those years? His breath soiled her air. By all rights, his hands should leave black smudges on her comparatively innocent skin. Yet she expected his anger for how she’d coped. The female made no sense.

  “Let’s go.” He tugged her along behind him.

  “Wait a minute.” She broke his hold with ease. “Help me pull off his pants.”

  Harper blinked. “What?”

  “His pants.” She gestured to the near-transparent shift she wore. “I need clothes. Fast. There’s nothing here but more of these frou-frou gowns.” She pointed. “I want his pants.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” he said. But she was already working the laces across the front of Roland’s leather breeches. She popped the button, then jerked his boots from his feet and tugged the fabric down his legs. Metal glinted in her hand, a knife of his most likely.

  “Um, okay then.” She glanced up, face red. “I guess when he poured himself into these earlier, he forgot to add underwear.” Clearing her throat, she held up the pants and sliced several inches from the legs, then stepped in, cinching his belt tight around her waist. Gripping the hem of her chemise, she tugged it overhead, exposing her bare breasts. Harper swallowed, hard.

  She caught him staring. “Oh, come on.” She dashed for the closet and grabbed a fresh shirt of Maddie’s, tying the end in a knot at her hip. “It’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”

  His mouth dried and throat ached. “It’s been a while.”

  He continued to stare as she slid her silken slippers onto her feet and met his gaze, looking equal parts princess and sand pirate.

  She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the tunnel mouth. “Come on.” Once inside, she made her way through the familiar maze and asked, “Where’s Dillon?”

  “He’s with…a crafter I found in the dungeon.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “All right.” She ran fast, but in the wrong direction.

  “You’re going the wrong way.” He reached for her arm, but missed. “They’re waiting.”

  “You don’t understand.” Emma stopped short, and he barreled into her. “Roland mentioned overdosing his mares on salt. He said something about them getting sick from the purity of the progesaline.” Her eyebrows rose. “I’m guessing that’s part of your missing shipment?”

  “It’s possible. He brought me here to negotiate for exclusive salt rights.” He paused. “Wait—his mares? Why would he give them progesaline in the first place?”

  “I have no idea.” She nudged the panel aside. “But they aren’t
the only ones.” She braced on the wall and shoved. He leaned in to help her push. “He implied Nesvia is sick too.”

  Her reply left him stunned. “She’s pregnant?”

  “No.” Emma glanced up, forehead creased. “She’s not.”

  Temporary relief pumped air into his lungs. If an overdose of his mine’s product cost the queen an heir, he would be blacklisted. His colony would lose favor, funding and its future.

  He couldn’t let that happen.

  “Why give her something she doesn’t need?” Warm air, perfumed with gardenia, hit his face. He choked, his stomach lurching.

  “I don’t know.” Emma popped her head inside the room, cautious though they’d made more than enough noise to alert anyone inside to their presence. “It makes no sense.”

  Her words drowned under heartbeats amplified in his ears. The smell of faded petals licked over his skin, oily in its reminder of who once wore that scent.

  In his mind’s eye, Eliya crouched before a cage suspended inches above the ground. Her sharpened fingers threaded through the bars, stroking him as if he were a fond pet, asking where he’d taken Maddie, sinking claws into the meat of his thigh when he refused her an answer. Her tongue moistened ruby lips. His painful wince, the trickle of blood, was her favored aphrodisiac.

  In the beginning, he’d fought and squirmed, and learned she wanted him all the more for it. By the end, he lay on the golden floor of his cage and let her have her way. She kept a vial of some magical powder handy to keep his mind fuzzy around the edges and his body willing. Once in a while, she invited a Sereian courtesan into her bed, forcing him to watch, sometimes to join them. Always, when the courtesan left, it was with fresh compulsions implanted in his mind.

  Love Eliya, adore her. Worship her with your body.