Heartless

by Gena Showalter

  Her words echoed inside his head. Had she saved Viori, by saving him? She had removed the only obstacle in the way of their future together. Had ended a chore he’d no longer enjoyed.

  His motions slowed further. Even in the middle of his storm of hurt and fury, Kaysar thought he sensed a sliver of...peace. For the first time in memory, he could imagine Viori happy, wherever she was. Just as Chantel had promised he would.

  Neither of his abusers walked the land, lying to their subjects in public, hurting innocents in private. The constant pull to cause pain and suffering to his foes—as well as himself—had eased. Current circumstances excluded.

  Was he healing?

  A confused Jareth battled around him, acting as a guard when Kaysar came to a complete stop. Had he yearned to let go of the past and lied to himself about it? Him, the unrepentant truth teller? Had he longed to move forward? Had he hoped for more? For better? Had he then passed the blade to Chantel, unable to make the cut himself, and blamed her for the outcome?

  Surely he didn’t.

  But what if he did?

  The moment—the very second—he entertained the possibility, he had no defenses against it. The truth suddenly shined so clear. He had yearned and longed and hoped. To protect himself from the pain of letting go of his past—his sister—he’d let himself believe Chantel had betrayed him.

  He’d betrayed himself. What was worse, he’d betrayed her.

  An agonized groan burst from Kaysar, regret and shame slicing his calm to ribbons. He’d hurt the only person who’d loved him.

  You protect, honor and respect what you value—or you lose it.

  He’d owed Chantel everything, yet he’d treated her like garbage. Would she forgive him? He wasn’t sure he could forgive himself.

  He...he... Why were the trolls forgetting about his presence? The troll army had ceased fighting; the soldiers faced the fortress where poisonvine slithered down, down, down the walls, sweeping over the battlefield, catching trolls without squeezing the life from them.

  Heart in his throat, he cast his gaze higher... A woman stood upon the throne room balcony, sipping from a wineglass. Pink and sable hair danced in the breeze. A half top squeezed her breasts together and bared her perfect midriff. A pair of tiny blue shorts possessed so little material, the inside pockets stretched beneath the hem. The strangest boots rode to the center of her calves.

  Kaysar clutched his chest and stumbled. Had any female ever exuded such magnificent beauty?

  Desperate to win back the greatest gift he’d ever received, he flittered to the balcony.

  “Hello, Kaysar.” Chantel’s voice was a light in a dark, barren wasteland. A beacon.

  He had to plead his case. Had to get past her hurt and fury. Could he? “Chantel—” When he stepped toward her, she halted him with a vine. The thorns pierced his torso.

  “My foes aren’t allowed near me...unless I’m about to kill them. Also, you can call me Cookie.”

  He held up his hands, palms out, while bellowing curses internally. “Chantel. Cookie. I will call you anything you wish, but I will never be your enemy.”

  “I’m confused. Are you or aren’t you the man who tossed me out of my home? Didn’t you issue an edict that I wasn’t to be harmed by others so you could harm me?”

  He flinched. “A thousand times, I almost went through the doorway to find you.” Only three things had stopped him: his wrongly directed rage, his utter stupidity and Eye’s assurance. “I should have done it, despite Eye’s assurances about your safety. The regret I feel now...” It had begun to claw at him.

  She’d tried to warn him, hadn’t she?

  With a slow, easy drawl, she told him, “Maybe we’re not enemies, but we’re definitely not friends, either. So don’t give the past another thought. It’s over and done. Now we move on.”

  Over and done? If only. Move on? Never. He scrubbed a hand over his face. How could he reach her? “I long to make amends. I’m so sorry, sweetling. I—”

  “Sorry?” She chuckled. The awful thing? She actually sounded amused. “You don’t need to be sorry, Kaysar. I actually understand your anger and your actions. I’d even expected them. And honestly, looking back, I can see I missed a crucial fact. You’d already had your free will taken from you once before, yet I callously did it again. For that, I’m sorry. But you took away the only things that matter to me. My home and my family. I can’t trust you not to do it again.”

  The words were a blow, but he persisted, trying to explain. “When I saw Hador’s body, I felt as if I lost my sister all over again, as if I failed her in every way imaginable. I lashed out. Admitting that you’d done what a secret part of me hoped you’d do meant I had to admit that I allowed her to be lost to me a second time. That I wanted to let go.” The guilt ate at him even now, but its razor-sharp teeth had dulled. “I am so sorry,” he repeated.

  “It’s fine, Kaysar. Really,” Chantel said after sipping her wine. “I’ve remembered more of my time with Jareth. Who knows? Maybe there’s something there.”

  Panic and jealousy frothed. He tried again to step forward, to touch and hold her, but the vine pushed him back. “I love you. With every part of my being, I love you. If you wish to be with Jareth, I...I won’t stop you. But please, sweetling, give me a chance to prove I can be the better male for you.”

  Another sip. With a determined pivot and sad glance over her shoulder, she told him, “There’s no need. You can’t. And there’s no need to prolong this, either. No reason to fight an unwinnable battle and waste everyone’s time. I truly hope you have a nice life, Kaysar. I certainly plan to. Maybe we’ll see each other around.”

  * * *

  THE MEET AND GREET with Cookie’s subjects arrived two weeks after her confrontation with Kaysar. Who she refused to miss. Or even consider. He’d maintained his distance, as she’d asked. And that was great. Everything was great. Wonderful. But...

  He’d also negotiated a temporary truce with Micah. The other king would be setting up camp on the other side of the Dusklands, where he would stay for a year. Anyone who wished to serve him, could. Any who opted to remain with Cookie, would. Once the year was up, all bets were off.

  Kaysar was working tirelessly to ensure she had a secure home, and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

  Anyway. Cookie had chosen a skintight, strapless scarlet gown with a heart-shaped neckline and pooling hem for the occasion. A high-collared cape draped her shoulders. Ruby jewels glittered from her ears, neck and wrists. On her head, a crown of her own thorns and roses. She’d almost picked the crystal one Kaysar had given her, but she hadn’t wanted to think about him every second of the event...like she was doing now.

  She drummed her thorn nails against the arm of her throne. The man didn’t deserve her consideration. He’d claimed he’d wanted her; when she’d shot him down, he’d ditched her. Again. Anyway. Enough of that.

  She’d decided to be a queen of hearts. She would win her people with her fair judgments and an amazing revitalization plan. Anyone who harmed innocents would face Judge Cookie. Everyone else would just have to learn to live with her ever-changing personality quirks.

  Speaking of personality quirks, Pearl Jean and Sugars had settled in nicely. Pearl Jean had moved into the room next to Cookie’s, and Sugars had claimed the entire castle as his toy box. Servants doted on the oldest-looking person in all the land and treated the hissing little panther with the adoration he deserved.

  The two had thrones of their own, Sugars to her left and Pearl Jean to her right.

  Only Amber and Jareth had visited Cookie. She’d told the prince everything she’d learned about Lulundria and given him the photo she’d pilfered from the cottage, and he’d unashamedly shed a tear. Cookie had hugged him, affection for him growing. Affection, but nothing more. She actually counted the guy as a friend.

  He stood between th
e biggest thrones, acting as guard as joyous citizens of the Dusklands brought her gifts of welcome, thanks and praises. Plant life thrived once again, and the people celebrated.

  “What’s the holdup?” Pearl Jean demanded. She took to her role as second-in-command quite seriously. “Where’s the next well-wisher? Let’s get this done.” Rubbing her lower back, she shifted to get more comfortable. “My sciatica is flaring.”

  Sugars yawned.

  Fae, minotaurs, centaurs and an assortment of other species had traipsed about the throne room for hours. But Cookie had seen the line before convening with her first subject. The procession should continue for hours more. So why wasn’t anyone movi—

  Never mind. The answer strutted inside with a determined expression. Kaysar. Her heart jumped at the sight of him. He looked good. Shirtless. Leathers. Combat boots. Eyes and hair wild. Amber strode behind him.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Pearl Jean asked softly. “Because me-wow.”

  He stopped before the dais and bowed. “Your majesty.”

  “Kaysar,” she said with a nod. “I have nothing left to say to you.” And yet, she longed to hurl herself into his arms. But she’d made that mistake before.

  “I know you don’t, sweetling. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll do all the talking.” He offered a small but affectionate smile, and her chest constricted. “I have tasted of what life is like without you, and there is no worse future for me. My lesson has been learned. That is why I’ve come to welcome you to the Dusklands, as so many others have, and pledge my fealty. From this moment on, your enemies are my enemies. Those who wrong you, wrong me. Those who harm you will suffer my wrath in ways that would make my treatment of the Frostlines seem like a child’s game. My present and future belong to you. I humbly beg you to accept them, but I understand if you refuse. Either way, you are my only family, and my loyalty remains unwavering.”

  “Kaysar—”

  “There’s more,” he interjected. As she watched, slack-jawed, he sank his claws into his shoulder and with a little digging, ripped off the birth control tattoo. He tossed the section of flesh at her feet. An offering. “My vengeance against the Frostlines is over. Done. When you are ready for children, I am ready to give them to you.”

  “Now, that’s a grand gesture,” Pearl Jean said, sharing a grin with Amber.

  Her mouth floundered open and closed. “You once told me any children I bear will belong to the Frostlines.”

  “Jareth will permanently disavow his marriage to you, or Jareth will die,” Kaysar said with a glare at the other man. “Any children we bear will be known by one and all as ours. They will rule our kingdoms. The Midnight Court and the Dusklands.”

  Don’t give in. Not again. “I just can’t—”

  “There’s more.” He snapped his fingers, and two soldiers raced into the throne room. The first carried a small birdcage with...not a bird inside. What was that? The second hefted a medium-size box. “For the queen’s handmaiden, Pearl Jean, I gift the heart of a royal fae.” The guards placed the gifts at the edge of the dais. “I assure you, the recipient was most deserving of its loss. The organ is mystically preserved. If ever she decides to live forever, she has only to eat it. For the royal feline, I bring a box made of enchanted wood. Inside it, he will heal from any injury. Among other things.”

  “She says yes,” Pearl Jean called, already rushing over to claim the birdcage with grabby hands. “Do I eat the whole thing or just a bite? Never mind. I’ll eat the whole thing to be safe.”

  Cookie did not even want to know which royal had parted with their life. “I... No.” She shook her head, refusing to get her hopes up again. Kaysar had given her the most amazing gifts. But this was what he did. Grand gestures. Disappointment always followed on their heels. “I meant what I said. I can’t trust you anymore.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, as if overcome by pain. When he faced her again, he raised his chin and rolled his shoulders. “I know that, too. But I’m willing to go to great lengths to ensure I have the time to earn back your trust.”

  Oh, really? “And how do you plan to do that?”

  He flittered to the dais, a length of chain in hand and hooked one end of the chain to her throne. Then he moved several feet away, out of her reach. With his hot gaze on her, he slapped a metal collar around his neck—a link of chain kept him tethered.

  Oh, no he didn’t. “Remove the collar, Kaysar. Now.” She hated to see him in it, knowing the cost.

  “I will. After my mission is complete, my team back together.”

  “Kaysar.” She white-knuckled the arms of her throne. “You can’t just—”

  “I have two other gifts for you,” he interjected once again. He moved directly in front of her, with his hands braced on the chair. “I give you the three little words you have deserved for so long—you were right.”

  Her breath caught. Okay, yeah, the pronouncement got to her. Maybe she could give him another chance, after all?

  “Last,” he said, “I give you my heart. In every incarnation.” He dropped to his knees before her and sank his claws into his chest, where the skin had already begun to heal. “I will show you how it beats for you.”

  Cookie grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand. “Don’t,” she commanded. Chained was bad enough. But injured, too? “Let me think for a second.”

  With a soft, hopeful expression, he told her, “Please, do. I’ll be here no matter how long it takes. You are stunning, by the way. You captured my heart all over again at first sight.”

  Astonishing. He understood her choice of outfit. But then, he’d always understood her moods, hadn’t he?

  As Cookie’s heart thudded, her mind whirled. The man whose freedom had been stolen as a child was willing to give up his freedom as an adult, simply to be near her, proving his claims with action.

  Now he watched her so earnestly, as if nothing mattered more than her response.

  Did she believe he’d forgiven her for the terrible act she’d committed for a greater good? Yes. So how could she not do the same and forgive him for something he’d done in the midst of a centuries-long culmination of grief? Why was she holding on to her hurt, letting fear rule her life?

  Yes, he’d messed up and lashed out. But he’d owned it, and he was fighting to get her back. Fighting. For her. He was doing everything in his power to make amends, as promised. And she did love him. So much. The complicated king with a thirst for revenge had brought her to life in ways her two hearts never had.

  Without hurt there to color her thoughts and perceptions, she had to admit the truth. Her desire for him had never faded. If anything, she craved him more than ever. Nights without him sucked. Days without him sucked worse. Even with Pearl Jean and Sugars here, she’d felt so alone.

  For Cookie, Kaysar was connection and connection was Kaysar.

  She met his gaze once again, and he smiled so brightly her eyes watered.

  “You’ve forgiven me one hundred percent?” he asked, winding his arms around her to slide her butt to the edge of the seat. “You’ll wear the team uniform again?”

  “I have, and I will.” Leaning toward him, she cupped his cherished face. “We can start a new game. So remove the collar and take me to—”

  Blink. The collar was gone, and Cookie and Kaysar were inside her bedroom, flat on the bed. He peppered soft, lingering kisses all over her face, giving each of her features a personal welcome home.

  “I love you today,” he said between those kisses. “I’ll love you tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. And the next. There won’t be a single moment you aren’t certain of my adoration for my precious.”

  Smiling, she cupped his jaw and met his gaze. “Your enemies are mine, Kaysar. Those who wrong you, wrong me. Those who harm you will suffer my wrath. My present and future belong to you.”

  How he loved his mate. “I w
ill give you the world, Chantel.”

  She winked at him. “Not if I give it to you first.”

  EPILOGUE

  KAYSAR HELD A naked Chantel in his arms. After a two-week marathon of lovemaking she’d referred to as “make-up sex,” they lay intertwined on their bed, talking as they loved to do.

  “Jareth’s coronation as king is tomorrow,” she said with a grin. “I’d like to attend.”

  “Then we shall attend,” he replied. Though he hated to admit it, and he would never admit it again, he kind of liked the pup.

  “He’s asked that we not kill anyone.”

  “And you told him...?”

  “That I can’t make any promises. What if someone deserves it?”

  “That’s my darling girl.” Always thinking fifty slaughters ahead.

  She traced a fingertip around his nipple. “Is it bad that I hope someone deserves it?”

  He smoothed a strand of hair from her cheek, hooking it behind her ear and smiled. “It’s perfect, love. You are perfect.” Strong enough to do what he couldn’t. Brave enough to free the wounded bear from its cage. “Before we leave, you should fill the palace with poisonvine, so that Micah can’t enter it without suffering. Lest he decide to renege on our bargain or sneak in and steal something.”

  “Of course,” she said with a nod. “You know, you should take me to see the Midnight Court first. I should tour the place, so I can explain to Jareth all the reasons your kingdom is better than his.”

  Kaysar shot rock hard. She knew how to arouse him in seconds.

  He kissed her brow, the tip of her nose, her lips. “It’s not my kingdom, love. It’s ours. What’s mine is yours, and what’s yours is mine. And stopping by the Midnight Court is wise.” He thought for a moment. “I suppose I must command a portion of our armies to cease warring with Hador’s—Jareth’s soldiers at some point.”

  “Speaking of our armies, do you think...maybe... possibly...any of our men have a thing for horny old ladies?”