Avery (Random Romance)

by Charlotte McConaghy

  Ambrose

  When I stood on the balcony, I could hear him crying in the room below. It took every piece of strength I had not to climb down there and hold him.

  Chapter 10

  Thorne

  The beast was clawing its way out. I had a clumsy hold on him, but my fingers were slipping. Truth was, my fingers didn’t want to hold him – they wanted him free as much as he did. Soon, I told him. Soon.

  It was because of him that I had five Marks over my heart – an impossible number, an unrivalled number. The closest anyone had ever come to matching my Marks was my brother, with two.

  They said I was the most feared man in my country, the most feared man in the world. I’d have had trouble believing that if I could not smell the truth of it in every corner. Every look, every stare, every glance my way reeked of terror. My beast took a deep pleasure in it, was proud as he stalked his cage. Shame only came, funnily enough, when I was around my brother and his clear eyes saw what no one else did – that I barely held control anymore. The cage I’d built grew weaker and weaker, and soon I would be the one inside it.

  Now, as Iran steadily through the forest, there was no cage, no iron holding him at bay – he was readying himself, and so was I. Nothing mattered, nothing but the trail I was following, and the scent of her on the wind.

  I’d come alone, because a wild, unhindered sense of fury was sweeping itself through me at the thought of Kayans stealing my wife to use for their own purposes. My blood was starting to quicken in my veins and all my senses were coming alive, making me stronger, faster, infinitely more bloodthirsty, and if any of my men happened to get in my way …

  What I would do to these Kayans … My hands were shaking with longing: the reek of fear that sharp cutting sound when a scream erupted the dullness of cracking bones that wet squelch of splashing blood the smell of blood so full and heavy and addictive more familiar to me than anything else in this life I couldn’t think I could barely breathe with the need and loathing and excitement— Focus.

  They’d flown their abominations through the sky, but they’d stayed low enough that I could smell the path they’d followed. There was a battleaxe on my back, but I wanted to use my hands. I could feel them already – feel them waiting, unaware of what they had unleashed. The smells started to get sharper, creating images in my mind – forming a path to where she was. Her counting was in my head, that voice of hers over and over like a mantra that kept me sane, kept me human, kept me here in the forest when I wanted to be away with the beast. She counted as I hunted. She was always counting in my head.

  I ran for hours through darkness and at last came to a tiny wooden hut on the border with Kaya. Did they think I would not cross to her? Did they think I wouldn’t follow her to any corner of the earth and tear it down to have her back?

  There were two boys standing guard – children. They heard my approach, but only because I wanted them to.

  ‘Who goes?’ one of them called, holding his spear uneasily.

  He died very badly, my fist crushing his chest with a blow. The other screamed and jabbed with his weapon, but I swatted him into a tree and heard his skull crack. The flying horses were grazing, and I spent a precious moment spilling their blood over their perfect pelts. There wasn’t time enough to enjoy it further because I could smell the three of them inside, and they called to the raging beast inside me.

  The door splintered under my hammering fist and fell to the ground, and as I moved, my beast hammered his way free of the cage – beyond delight, beyond joy, beyond fury. Three people leapt to their feet, waves of their thick, warm terror washing onto me. It filled my nose and made my mouth water; I wasn’t human anymore.

  ‘Thorne!’ Rose cried, her eyes wide, but I barely recognised her. My thoughts scattered, broke and faded – everything left except the beast.

  Roselyn

  I saw it immediately. As soon as my husband appeared, huge in the wooden doorway of the small hut, I knew he’d gone berserker. There were signs that I’d come to recognise over the years – signs that warned me – and if I caught them early enough, I usually had a hope of calming him down. One glance at him now told me it was too late for any of that, far too late. Thorne was gone; the monster had come for me.

  His eyes were crazed and bloodshot, darting between the three of us. His breathing was hot, heavy and laboured, his hands shaking with the force pumping through him.

  Terror struck me. There was nothing anyone could do to stop him now. All we could hope was to get out of the way, and that was a feeble hope. Sharra and Gidion both drew their swords.

  ‘No!’ I hissed desperately, urgently. ‘You must not fight him. Try to run.’

  ‘Is he … is he a berserker?’ Gidion whispered, horror-struck. That’s when Thorne attacked – a strangled roar of fury escaped him and he charged into the room, swinging his mighty fist, and crushing the wooden table into splinters. The three of us scrambled out of the way. I huddled behind the palette, looking to see if I could reach the front door. Gidion and Sharra were on their feet, darting left and right, trying to get around behind Thorne, but he struck, lightning fast, and hit Gidion on the shoulder. A cry escaped the man’s lips – I knew a blow like that would have shattered his bone.

  ‘Thorne!’ I screamed again. ‘Stop!’ It was useless – he probably couldn’t even hear me – but he’d backed Sharra up against the wall and was about to kill her. Gidion, using his good arm, stabbed his sword into Thorne’s side, but my husband gave no sign that he had even felt it. For some reason, the memory of the Kayan girl in the dungeon sprang unbidden to my mind. It propelled me off the ground and pushed me in front of Sharra, where I shielded her with my body.

  I stared up at Thorne, into his wild eyes, and I didn’t blink, even though fear was like hot tar through my veins. ‘Thorne,’ I said. A low snarl left his mouth, causing my heart to lurch. It always amazed me how very like an animal he became in these moments – how far removed the man became. ‘Thorne, listen to me. It’s me, Roselyn. I’m your wife. You must calm down. Breathe. Breathe for me. Be present.’

  He stared at me, not understanding. He grunted angrily and made as if to swat me out of the way, but I stepped closer, resting my hands on his chest.

  ‘Roselyn – don’t!’ Sharra hissed from behind me, but I ignored her, looking only at my husband.

  ‘It’s me,’ I told him, not blinking. He stared back at me. ‘Breathe, Thorne. Breathe slowly, and calm yourself. This isn’t you – you know it isn’t. There’s nothing to be angry about. I’m your wife and I’m here with you, and I need you to calm down. I need you to be present in your body. It is yours.’

  As he stared at me, I could see him starting to come back. To Gidion, I muttered, ‘He has your scent now. Leave and don’t ever come back, or he’ll find you.’

  Sharra slowly began to edge out from behind me and I reached up to hold Thorne’s face, forcing him to continue staring into my eyes.

  ‘I don’t want to leave you!’ Sharra whispered.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I told her. ‘He won’t hurt me.’ Which was untrue. I didn’t know if he would hurt me – the beast could turn on a breath.

  Finally, Sharra and Gidion were gone from the hut, and I stood alone and trapped with a berserker. At that point I couldn’t help the fear overtaking me. I started to count under my breath as I stared into his eyes. Over and over and over again, numbers as fast as I could say them.

  Slowly, Thorne started to blink, eyes shuddering, the numbers sinking into his skin and drawing him out. I saw a real expression enter his eyes – confused, haunted and … sweet.

  ‘Rose,’ he breathed heavily. His hands moved up to cover mine where they still rested on his cheeks. I couldn’t stop counting – it was the only thing that was keeping me from thinking about what could have happened here. ‘Rose,’ he said again, closing his eyes. He was still shaking, but now it was with exhaustion.

  Slumping onto the palette, he pulled me with him and wrapped
his huge body around me, then passed out in weariness. I lay there, crushed by the enormous weight of him, and also by the weight of pity. The world felt drenched in so much fear – fear of my husband. Perhaps the only person who did not fear Thorne was his mother. I couldn’t imagine what that must feel like for him, couldn’t imagine how he ever found himself when he was under constant attack from his dark half. Sometimes his hands trembled at night and I knew he was holding the cage shut, holding it with all his will. What happened when he wasn’t strong enough anymore?

  Hours later, I hadn’t slept a wink. It was broad daylight and I was hot and uncomfortable with Thorne and his heavy animal skins draped over me. I dared not move to wake him – I was too frightened of what I’d be met with. Instead I counted his snores and made wishes – lots of them.

  Finally he stirred, groaning and rubbing his eyes. He blinked and focused in on me, and then the hut around him. Sitting up, he exclaimed, ‘You let them get away! You helped them get away!’

  I felt tired then, too tired to try to defend myself – let him be angry. Let him punish me.

  ‘Why, Rose?’

  ‘Because they were kind to me. They didn’t hurt me.’

  He shook his head in exasperation. ‘They’re Kayan, and they stole you from the fortress – from me.’

  I didn’t reply. Instead I asked, ‘Why do you hate them so?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘They are our enemy.’

  ‘Yes, but where has your loathing come from? I have never met anyone else who hates Kayans so much – who wants to destroy them so much.’

  ‘It’s my job to hate them more than anyone else.’

  I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t get a better answer. Ambrose had told me once that his brother hadn’t truly hated Kayans until the day he came back from under the mountain, but I had always been too scared to ask Thorne about those days. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what had happened in the berserker ice caps.

  ‘It isn’t good for you to let yourself change,’ I said.

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ he growled.

  ‘You can always control it when you feel it starting.’

  He met my eyes. ‘This time I couldn’t.’

  ‘Did you smell blood?’

  ‘No.’ He stared at the floor. ‘I thought of them hurting you and I couldn’t control myself.’

  The next words that left my mouth seemed to come from nowhere, and surprised us both. ‘But you hurt me all the time.’

  He blinked slowly, confused. ‘I’m your husband.’

  ‘So shouldn’t you protect me from harm?’

  ‘Rose,’ he snapped, ‘I’m teaching you.’

  ‘I’m not a child.’

  ‘You act like one,’ he snarled, standing and storming from the cabin. ‘Come!’ he shouted back at me.

  I did as I was told.

  Thorne

  I strode out into the sunshine and stopped dead, my anger vanishing. ‘Rose!’ I grunted. ‘Stop!’

  She froze inside the door to the cabin, wary.

  ‘Close your eyes,’ I ordered, trying to sound reassuring, but probably sounding threatening instead.

  Roselyn licked her lips and then slowly did as she was told. I reached for her hand and led her out of the cabin onto the grass. I wondered if she would smell it – in my nose it was rank and impossible to ignore. I prayed to the Sword that she would keep her eyes closed until I could get her away, but after a few steps her ankle twisted and she crumpled with a moan of horror. Her eyes, I saw, were locked on the slaughtered pegasi, and how their blood and feathers were splashed over the clearing. Roselyn’s face went so white I thought she might throw up, but she simply started to weep.

  I felt ancient, broken and sick as I lifted her into my arms and carried her away from the carnage I had caused.

  Ava

  I hadn’t been awake long before there was a knock on my door. Panicked, I hastily tried to shove my hair under my cap, but a soft voice called from outside, ‘It’s Hannah, my lady.’ I sighed and ushered her inside. The girl smiled tightly at me but didn’t meet my eyes. I supposed that sending my meal to Ambrose last night must have caused problems for her romantic vision of me.

  I started combing my hair, but she moved forward and took the brush from me, setting herself to the arduous task.

  ‘It’s such beautiful hair, my lady,’ she told me.

  ‘Call me Avery,’ I told her. ‘I’m not a lady anymore.’

  ‘But you are!’ she exclaimed. ‘You are a very beautiful woman, and it seems to me like the deepest betrayal of our sex to hide yourself the way you do. How is he to think differently of us if you act like being a woman is something to be ashamed of?’

  ‘Ambrose?’

  She nodded, flushing. Her deft fingers finished pinning the hair into its bun and then dropped lifelessly.

  I sighed. ‘That will be all, thank you, Hannah.’

  ‘Yes, my lady.’ She reached out and brushed a stray lock of my hair into the bun, her fingers lingering on my face. The touch was intimate, and I found myself leaning away from it, unsure what it meant. I was so out of touch with the world and its interactions, with matters even remotely like these, that I found myself completely lost as to why she would be touching me this way.

  Hannah saw me flinch, and quickly vanished from the room.

  When I was alone, I moved once again to stand in front of the mirror, feeling shaken. A part of me wanted to call her back – wasn’t this what I wanted from my new identity? A chance to absent myself completely from the idea of Ava and become a boy in every way? The thought of doing so was so seductive and yet repulsive at the same time – I felt my cheeks flush with confusion.

  ‘You look even younger when you blush like that,’ a voice said from the balcony, and I yelped in shock. Ambrose was leaning against the window.

  ‘Clearly they’re not watching you very closely,’ I muttered.

  His expression was guarded as he walked in and sat on the bed. ‘What were you thinking about?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Was it Ava?’ he pressed. ‘You had this expression on your face – sort of like desire, but … flatter.’

  I frowned, trying to read his voice. Was it anger? Resentment? There was something hard about him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. I just want to know if you were thinking about your dead girlfriend or not.’

  I stared at him, struck by the cruelty in his voice. ‘Of course I was. Does that offend you?’

  He shrugged disdainfully. ‘Why would it?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ I snapped, exasperated. ‘Why are you angry?’

  Ambrose sighed, shaking his head. ‘I’m not.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Avery, in Kaya, are there people who …’

  ‘Who what?’

  ‘Are there men who … enjoy the company of other men?’

  ‘Huh? What are you talking about?’

  ‘Sexually.’

  I stared at him, confused. ‘Of course there are. Why?’

  ‘Do they bond with each other?’

  ‘Some do. It’s not as common, but the bond listens to your preferences and mates you with whoever you’re suited to, regardless of gender. Why, Ambrose?’

  He shrugged.

  This turn in the conversation made me think of Hannah. Even though I might be blind to certain feelings, I was fairly sure she had to be interested in women after the way she’d just touched me. On the other hand, maybe she was only attracted to me when I was dressed as a boy … It was all too difficult.

  ‘Have you ever been attracted to another man?’ Ambrose asked me. His voice was completely emotionless.

  This was dangerous territory for me. I struggled with how honest to be and decided to flip the question and pretend he’d asked me if I’d ever been attracted to other women. ‘I don’t think so, but then again, I was young when I bonded, so I’ve never had much thought for other people – women or men.’

  I watched as
he thought about this, nodding to himself. Then he met my gaze, a funny look on his face.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. ‘You look kind of strange.’

  Ambrose

  Kind of strange was the understatement of the century. For the first time in my life, I was imagining what it would be like to kiss a boy – couldn’t get the Godsdamned thought out of my head. It kept running around and around in my mind as I looked at him, standing there all confused and innocent.

  If a man in my position were rumoured to chase after boys, he’d lose all respect, all the power he commanded. He’d be considered weak. And if he let the rumours spread without culling them immediately, he would be sure to wind up dead within a night or two. But in this moment it occurred to me for the first time that perhaps it didn’t matter whether you seemed weak. Strength wasn’t in someone’s perception of you – it was in your actions. All I had to do was look at Avery to know this to be true.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I managed to reply, but my voice sounded strangled even to my own ears.

  He looked strangely beautiful to me this morning, with the sound of his weeping from the night before still echoing in my ears. What did he think of when he thought of her?

  ‘Did something happen, Ambrose?’ he asked. ‘You look upset.’

  I could almost taste the words, they had so much sudden meaning to me. I laughed, but it sounded weird even to my ears. I clenched my fists by my sides, telling myself to keep it together. I found myself picturing what it would be like to run my fingers along his neck, and the very idea of it made the tips of my fingers tingle. All these thoughts were ridiculous and could come to nothing, for so many reasons, not least of which was that Avery liked women. Or liked one particular woman – and it didn’t matter at all that she was dead.

  I stood abruptly, feeling confused and very removed from myself. Holy Sword, what would Thorne think if he knew what I was imagining? It made me queasy to think of his reaction.