Avery (Random Romance)

by Charlotte McConaghy

  Thorne didn’t say anything.

  ‘I look forward to it,’ I murmured.

  ‘You’ll both be taking part, of course.’

  I shook my head. ‘Not this year. We need to take stock of our men if we’re to plan a complete invasion of Kaya.’

  Her ears seemed to prick up at that. ‘You want to invade Kaya? I thought you’d had enough of wars.’

  I shrugged. ‘All I needed was to spend five minutes on a boat with a Kayan in order to remember how much I hate them.’

  She smiled coldly. ‘Good.’

  ‘Come on, Thorne,’ I muttered, turning on my heel. ‘I need a good wrestle to relax me.’

  I strode from the room, Thorne bringing up the rear. The bodyguards watched us closely as we left.

  We didn’t go to wrestle – instead we went to the crypt. I didn’t need to say a word as I led the way there – my brother followed me silently, and then stood beside me as I gazed at my father’s tomb trying to remember the place in my heart where he’d once belonged.

  ‘Brother,’ Thorne said very softly into the silence, placing a large hand on my shoulder. ‘I have something to tell you. It’s very bad.’

  Ava

  I bid Migliori wait at the base of a tree, then I climbed right up into its branches to wait. Nightfall was still several hours away.

  According to Ambrose, the festival – though I honestly didn’t know how they could call it that – would be taking place all afternoon. It consisted of various fights to the death, where the winners achieved fame and respect for their ability to kill. There would also be numerous fights with animals and dangerous obstacle courses, finishing, of course, with the execution of the prince’s wife. The whole thing was basically a massive bloodbath, and it made me sick to my stomach to sit here and imagine it.

  My thoughts drifted back to the conversation I’d just had with Thorne, when he’d followed me into the forest and called for me to stop.

  ‘Why should I?’ I’d asked.

  He shook his head, looking uncertain. It caught me off-guard, the expression of vulnerability that came into his face. ‘Your bondmate – Avery.’

  No. I didn’t want to hear whatever this was. I was going to kill this man. I couldn’t listen to him speak about Avery.

  But Thorne clenched his fists and looked resolutely into my eyes. ‘I apologise for my part in his death.’

  No – no, no, no. Clearing my throat, I rasped, ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why apologise?’

  ‘Because I regret his death.’

  ‘Why?’

  Thorne stared at me very closely, and I was alarmed and dismayed to see a strange, distorted kind of softness come into his gaze, one that reminded me all too much of his brother.

  ‘Because he died with a straight spine, gold eyes, and a smile on his face,’ the prince told me bluntly. ‘Those are rare qualities in a man, which causes me to regret his death.’

  I stepped back, barely managing not to stumble. He held my eyes, and I found myself unable to look away. I wanted to hurt him and watch him suffer.

  ‘And if he’d wept?’ I hissed. ‘If he’d begged? Would his death be worth less to you? Would it be less regrettable?’

  ‘Of course.’ No hesitation – he was black and white, this man. ‘Our souls hold the worth of our behaviour.’

  I felt everything seep out of me, all the fury and aggression. For a moment I felt very, very sad. I let my gaze rest on him pointedly, and then I said, ‘Yes, I believe you are right.’

  He blinked, and for the first time I saw Thorne grow uncomfortable. Even … embarrassed. ‘My Gods will judge my transgressions.’

  I nodded slowly. ‘Do something for me.’

  Thorne considered and then said, ‘Whatever you wish.’

  There was a twisted bitterness inside me at this irony. It seemed wrong that I should ever need this man for anything, but there was no denying that in this moment, I had the power to make life better for someone I cared about.

  ‘Don’t ever hurt your wife again,’ I said. ‘She bears it because she loves you, but you will break her one day.’

  He stared at me, his eyes flashing sharply. I recognised the pain in them, and with a terrible lurch of my heart I realised it was the pain I felt whenever I thought of how I’d lost Avery. Suddenly, it was clear to me – this man loved his wife more than anything else in the world. That knowledge, somehow, made my plan just a little bit harder.

  A grunt left Thorne’s mouth, a sound of agony and fury combined. He had me pinned against the tree in less than a moment – his arms and body too strong for me to ever have a hope of escaping. I stayed very still as he ducked to my neck, breathing in my scent.

  ‘You smell of many things,’ he growled, his voice so low and rough that it sent shivers along my spine and made every hair on my body stand on end. ‘I can scent rage – it’s light and sharp. There’s guilt – a flood of it. It smells heavy and rank. Grief. Grief has no description that I can put words to. There’s love, here on your skin. But there’s no fear.’

  As he described he continued to breathe, smelling me as deeply as he could, and it occurred to me with a kind of sick revulsion, a kind of sick excitement, that this was too intimate, far too intimate. My heart pounded and I needed to get away, but I felt frozen like an animal in torchlight, sure it’s been spotted by a predator.

  His nose and lips brushed my skin as he explored my scent.

  ‘Desire has a very distinct aroma. I can taste it on you,’ he whispered. ‘Musky and sweet.’

  I batted at him but my blows were ineffectual. My heart broke with the realisation that in all this time – after all my hard work and determination – I was still as vulnerable as any woman in the world to the brutality and strength of a violent man.

  ‘You understand,’ he said. ‘I know you do.’ One of his mighty hands moved around my throat, tilting my head back to expose the flesh of my neck. His face moved to stare into my eyes. ‘You know exactly how easy it would be for me to kill you in this moment.’

  I swallowed; it hurt with his hand crushing my windpipe.

  ‘I want to,’ he murmured, eyes boring into mine. ‘I want to, but I won’t. Do you know why?’

  I said nothing, let my eyes turn red with fury – except they didn’t go red. There was no fury in my heart, but there was something different, something much darker, much more foreign. I didn’t know what colour my eyes were.

  ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Ava,’ Thorne said. He was so close I could feel his breath on my lips. I was trembling uncontrollably. ‘I’m the most disciplined man in this whole forsaken world.’

  A strangled cough of disbelief left me.

  ‘It’s true,’ he smiled savagely. ‘Because the truth is – I want to kill all the time. Every second of every day. All I want to do is shed blood. My instincts scream at me to do it – to stake my claim on the things I own and fight for my territory. I’m more animal than man, after all. Sometimes I allow my beast his reign, but so much of the time I fight him. I keep him locked up when I long to set him free, and do you know why I do that?’

  My heart thumped so hard it hurt. I couldn’t bear this, couldn’t bear his eyes so close, his lips, his hands on my body.

  ‘Because of two people. The first is Ambrose. My brother is a far cleverer man than I will ever be. He’s a man too big for this country, for this world. He’s a man born into the wrong family – the wrong realm. He’s good.’

  It was horrendous, how very close to tears I was as I listened, and I realised it was because his words were more heartfelt than almost any I had ever spoken.

  ‘The second is my wife,’ Prince Thorne murmured.

  I closed my eyes, but he tightened his grip on my throat until I forced them open again.

  ‘She’s the reason I fight the beast. She’s the reason I’m even half human.’ He leant closer, so close I could taste him. ‘So don’t you dare tell me how to treat her. I know her bet
ter than you ever will. I know every heartbeat of her, every breath. I would rather have every bone in my body shattered than see her harmed. I will fight every day the Sword grants me for her safety, and I will never lay a finger on her from this moment on. Do you understand me?’

  I nodded with shock as I saw that this was his promise. It was shrouded in threats – the only kind of promise that Prince Thorne of Pirenti made – but the truth of it was still there.

  Thorne finally let me go and I sagged in relief. I couldn’t look at him; I felt humiliation like a brand, like the brands all over my body. The sound of his feet led him away from me, but he paused. ‘There’s no fear in your scent, Ava, even now. But lack of fear does not make one courageous, and my brother will need a woman braver than any, if he is to change these bloodied lands.’

  When he was gone, I sank to my knees, bent over and vomited up the entire contents of my stomach. When the world had righted itself once more, I stared at where he’d disappeared into the trees, and I thought I understood him better than I’d ever understood anyone, including my mate.

  It was about an hour before sunset when the men found me. Migliori alerted me to their presence, but I had no time to climb back down and escape, so I simply froze, hoping no one would think to look up into the trees. There were six very large, very menacing Pirenti soldiers marching through the forest towards the fortress. They were obviously on their way to the festival, and I cursed myself for not having hidden better. They stopped at the sight of the tracks left behind by the flying horse and drew their weapons, peering into the shrubbery.

  ‘Spread out,’ one of the men said in a low undertone. ‘He might still be around here somewhere. Search the trees, too.’

  Clenching my teeth, I realised they’d have to find me sooner or later. Six was too many to fight on my own – two of the enormous pigs would have been a stretch for me – but I was a girl who no longer felt fear, and they were going to understand that before the end of this.

  I waited until one of the soldiers walked beneath my tree, then flung myself on top of him. I heard his neck snap upon impact and we fell to the ground, me using his body to break my fall, only jarring my knee slightly. I quickly rolled off him and readied myself – the remaining five soldiers surrounded me in an instant.

  ‘It’s just a kid,’ one man sneered, his lip curling in anticipation. None of them had failed to notice their dead comrade on the ground behind me. I could feel their anger in waves – it was hot; sticky.

  ‘Capture him,’ the leader said. I met his gaze and I allowed myself a smile, just one. It disconcerted him, and that’s when I moved.

  I might not have been as big or strong as any of these men, but I was fast. I ran towards one and at the last minute I feinted left to strike out with my sword, slashing the arm of the leader who stood beside him. He grunted in pain, but otherwise didn’t react. His own massive battleaxe was swinging at my head. I dropped to the ground, rolling under it and kicking out at his knee. I heard it snap and he screamed in pain. I had no time for satisfaction – I scrambled out of the way of another man’s sword and turned to face the men again, my back now safely facing a tree.

  I started ducking and dodging, unable to make any attacks of my own against so many of them at once. I had to try and run – it was my only chance of survival – but as I blocked a jab to my stomach, I realised there were only three men in front of me. The fourth, who was a little smaller than the others, and obviously a lot smarter, had snuck around the back of the tree, and now came at me from the side.

  His punch hit me in the shoulder and I gasped, stumbling into one of the other men, who grabbed my hands and held them both behind my back. The three in front of me advanced, leering, but I managed to strike out with my feet and kick one of them in the face. Blood and teeth splashed from his mouth and he groaned in pain.

  A terrible panic found me – my body trembled with denial. It could not take any more pain – not after the prison. It curled in on itself and refused to allow my movements any freedom. Please, it said to me. Don’t let this happen again.

  ‘Don’t kill him!’ the leader, whose knee I’d broken, called from the ground a few steps away. ‘We’ll trade him for coin inside the fortress.’

  One of the uninjured men stepped forward and punched me in the stomach. It winded me so badly that I thought I’d never breathe air again. Before I could even consider recovery, a different man punched me in the side of the head. That’s when I realised that Ambrose had held back about ninety per cent of his power every time he’d hit me or kicked me. These blows, from men twice my size, were mind-boggling. It made no sense to me – how I could survive such violence. Another part of me wanted to howl with glee at their pathetic attempt to harm me – didn’t they know what I’d been through? What I’d lived through? They could hit me as much as they liked and it wouldn’t be iron-hot brands against my skin and a leap into sea. It would not be the death of my bondmate, a blade thirteen times in his chest.

  It took me a long time to work out that I was still conscious, and that they were carrying me through the forest. I went in and out of awareness, awakening once or twice to find myself being moved through the fortress. Sometimes I heard snatches of speech – ‘festival time … take him to the dungeons …’

  ‘Queen will be very pleased …’

  ‘… reimbursed …’

  I had no idea what time it was when I finally woke properly, but I instantly realised I was in the dungeons. It was dark outside, and I could hear noises coming from beyond my window. A memory of waking in this dungeon with a splitting headache came to me – Ambrose’s face above me for the first time. Gods, how beautiful he’d been that day, standing beyond those bars, all pale amusement and distraction. I remembered spitting in his face and I almost smiled.

  How I wished he were standing behind those bars right now, instead of my nightmare. The Barbarian Queen peered at me, her teeth sparkling in the moonlight. ‘Good evening.’

  The sharp pain in my head consumed me for a moment, and I leant over and retched onto the stone floor. The second time I’d vomited here. I felt humiliation so bad it stopped meaning anything – I had no more pride left, no more dignity, and I doubted I’d ever have any again. I twisted around to stare up at her, unable to stand. Our eyes met; hers were a shade very much like Ambrose’s. Mine were white.

  ‘Do you know why I don’t let other women rule in this country?’ she asked me. ‘Why I don’t allow them any positions of power?’

  I waited. Blood rushed in my ears. I felt dislocated from the stone floor beneath me.

  Leave!

  Not without you. Never without you.

  ‘It’s very simple,’ the Queen said, ‘and it’s not because I hate my own sex. It’s because women are too clever and too strong, which means they are too dangerous to have anywhere near me.’

  My fingers unclenched. I tried to straighten my shoulders.

  ‘Women see things,’ she murmured. ‘They see truths and lies. Men, on the other hand, are infinitely easier to manipulate.’ She smiled like we were sharing a joke. I had a sinking, sick feeling in my gut.

  ‘I see you,’ she said very softly. ‘I saw you that very first day when my foolish son plucked you out of the sky. I see everything that you are, and I find it amusing, because you try so hard and yet still fail at everything.’

  I couldn’t help it – my eyes dropped from hers. I felt so angry I thought it might burst through my skin and take up this whole dungeon cell.

  ‘I can’t even fathom why you might have come back. It seems to me foolish beyond any human behaviour I have yet encountered. Kayans, I have always experienced, behave with reason, where Pirenti are ruled by their passions.’

  This seemed an incredibly simplistic perception to me. No wonder Pirenti were so Gods-damned black and white.

  ‘So tell me. Why are you here, girl? Again.’

  ‘Your “foolish” son understood straightaway. Which makes me wonder who the clever
ones here are.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m quite aware that you wish to kill me. But why?’

  ‘That you don’t understand,’ I said slowly, clearly, ‘that you have to ask, that you can’t remember, are three of the reasons you must die.’

  ‘Revenge?’ she pressed. ‘Have I killed one of your loved ones? Your father, maybe?’

  What was the point, anymore, in hiding the truth? She should know – I’d always wanted her to know at some point. ‘My bondmate,’ I told her simply.

  Whatever reaction I was expecting, it was not the one I got. The Queen seemed to freeze, stunned and speechless. My eyes narrowed as I took in her utter incredulity. It confused me – I’d never expected to rattle her.

  ‘That’s impossible,’ she whispered, dazed.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. ‘If you’re unaware of your own violence then you’re even crazier than I thought.’

  ‘Not that I killed him,’ she snapped. ‘That you’re alive! How are you alive?’

  ‘I’m alive to kill you.’

  ‘No – it’s impossible,’ she repeated. And that’s when I saw it – her eyes, the same pale blue eyes she shared with her son, slid very subtly to a different shade. I might not have noticed had the moon not been shining straight onto them, but I saw it, and something akin to horror began to take shape inside me.

  A woozy feeling stole into my head, making it hard to focus on her. The room spun. ‘You’re Kayan,’ I whispered.

  Her eyes snapped to me, cold and deadly once more. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I saw your eyes change colour!’ Slowly I dragged myself to my feet and clutched onto the bars. She took a step back.

  ‘How long since your mate died?’ she asked, trying to distract me.

  ‘Two years.’