3013_REVOLUTION

by Kali Argent

  “I was so rude.” Moaning, she dropped her face into her hands. “I should apologize.”

  Warm fingers encircled her wrists, and Sion pulled her hands away from her face. “Darbi is a good kid, but she’s just that. A kid. I like her well enough, like a little sister of sorts, but I don’t feel anything for her. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I’m not worried,” she answered immediately, then stopped to consider the truthfulness of the statement. “I’m not worried,” she repeated with more conviction. She trusted her mate, but that didn’t mean she wanted him touching other females. “Still, stay away from her.”

  “Of course.”

  Sion hadn’t thought through his actions when he’d hugged Darbi, but he should have. It hadn’t meant anything beyond a friendly gesture, not to him anyway, but as he kept reminding himself, it wasn’t only about him anymore. The sight of another male touching Rya sent him into a rage, so he sympathized with Rya’s reaction to the female attendant. Hell, he’d even enjoyed it a little.

  “I’m sorry,” he finally said, falling back into his seat. “I didn’t think.”

  “No, no, this is all just very new. I didn’t think anything of Mars touching my hand, either. He was seeking comfort, and I was happy to give it to him.”

  Sion could understand that, but he still didn’t like it. “Ivy says it gets better.” It was the only solace he could offer at the moment. “I just hope someone doesn’t end up hurt before it does.”

  After another few minutes where neither of them spoke, Rya stood and tilted her head back, looking up at the windows set near the ceiling. “It’s getting late. The ceremony will be starting soon.”

  Silently, they left the dining hall and returned to Rya’s quarters so she could change into something more appropriate for the memorial. Dressed in the standard tunic and tights of the Sommervail guard, Sion saw no reason to redress. Plus, he refused to leave Rya alone for any length of time, no matter if she had her brother and her attendant close at hand.

  Something had changed. He couldn’t put a name to it, but it consumed him. When he’d woken up that morning, he’d been a possessive, paranoid male driven by the desire to protect his mate. Now, after they’d come together in every way possible, that desire had intensified tenfold. He couldn’t let Rya out of his sight, to the point he even followed her into the bathroom, much to her horror and embarrassment.

  As he and Rya made their way down to the beach for the ceremony, Sion kept his arm around her waist, his gaze darting around the crowd gathered there. Tira had doubled security, calling in guards all the way from the far edges of the center island. Still, gathering so many Xenon together felt like asking for trouble, and it had taken everything in Sion to not drag Rya out of the citadel and put her on the first shuttle back to the Eastern Isle. It was just about the only thing he and Garrik agreed on, but of course, Rya wouldn’t hear of it. He applauded her bravery and resilience, but it didn’t make him worry any less. Yes, she had magic, but so did those who wished to harm her.

  Fucking magic.

  It was the bane of his existence.

  Knowing his fangs, claws, and skill with a sword meant nothing on the planet, rendering him virtually powerless, was a slap to his pride and ego. More than that, he didn’t know how he could protect his new mate when even she—kind, soft-spoken, tiny, delicate Rya—was more formidable than him.

  “Is everything okay?” Rya whispered, her bare toes buried in the purple sand on the beach. “You look…unhappy.”

  “Well, we are at a funeral, princess,” he hedged.

  There hadn’t been time to restore the great hall and clear the destruction before the ceremony. Citadel attendants had, however, opened every window in the castle, although Sion still didn’t understand why. Instead, rulers, elders, attendants, guests from other Isles, and villagers from Sommervail had all gathered on the sprawling beach near the waters’ edge. For nearly three hours, one person after another had stepped forward to eulogize the fallen.

  Sion didn’t want to sound callous or uncaring, but no one had thought to conjure chairs, and after standing for so long, his right leg had begun to cramp. A dull ache had started in the knotted muscles of his neck, and he felt the telltale beginnings of a migraine. In part, he found any loss of life, especially when that life had been forcibly taken, a tragedy. On the other hand, grieving the loss of persons he’d never met didn’t come easily, and he silently felt relieved when the ceremony dwindled to its conclusion.

  Five rows—each row representing a different island—of waist-high wooden posts had been constructed in parallel lines along the shore, all leading out into the ocean. Each post stood in place for one of the deceased, with Sommervail’s line being the longest since they had suffered the greatest number of losses.

  A glass orb sat atop every marker, each refracting the dying embers of sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colors. It was a beautiful display, but Sion didn’t understand the significance, not even when Kai and his mother, Ava, approached the first pillar with small, black flames flickering in their palms. Together, they held their hands toward the orb, their expressions solemn as the fire past through the glass to dance inside the sphere.

  “We call it ‘ghida,’” Rya explained in a whisper, pointing to the king. “It means ‘to guide,’ and we light the orbs to lead departed souls to the ocean where they can be at peace.”

  Sion had never met another race so deeply rooted in tradition. Of course, other races had their own belief and customs, even the Helios, with the most well-known being the Hunt, a kind of rite of passage for young members of the tribe.

  To him, the Hunt warranted the pomp and circumstance. It seemed the Xenon, however, had a ritual, ceremony, or celebration for everything.

  “What about the windows?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the castle. “Why are they all open?”

  “It’s just a superstition.” Rya shifted a little closer to him, her voice barely above a whisper as she watched Lyrica and Lynx Snowden light flames for their sister. “Xenon don’t age, don’t get sick, so when someone dies, it’s traumatic. The grief, yes, but also the act of dying itself.” She paused, her brow furrowed. “We open the windows to release the negative energy created from that trauma.”

  It sounded absurd to Sion, but he imagined some of the Helios’ customs would seem strange or ludicrous to the Xenon, so he tried not to judge too harshly.

  “Come.” Taking his hand, Rya tried to pull him toward the markers. “One of my people didn’t have a family,” she explained. “We’ll light a flame for her.”

  Sion planted his feet in the sand and shook his head. “I don’t have magic, princess, and I’m not even Xenon. I don’t think it would be appropriate.”

  “You are my soulmate,” she insisted, “future Vasere of the Eastern Isle, so I’d say it is very appropriate.” She gripped his hand harder and tugged again. “Trust me. Please.”

  Upon hearing his future laid out before him in such a way, Sion’s heart spluttered and the muscles in his throat constricted. Just as quickly as it had come, the panic faded, and he squeezed Rya’s hand, allowing her to lead him toward the pillars on the farthest row. He’d made his decision. He’d chosen her—not fate or destiny or some higher power—he had chosen.

  “Hold out your hand,” she instructed, coming to a stop at an unilluminated orb halfway down the line.

  Without hesitation, he held his free hand out, palm up, and waited.

  Rya whispered under her breath, words he couldn’t hear but doubted he’d be able to translate if he could. Then she placed her hand over his, pressing their palms together and rubbing to create a gentle friction. When she pulled away, a small, black flame danced in his palm, the fire surprisingly cool against his skin.

  “What now, princess?”

  In answer, she curled her fingers around his wrist and guided his hand toward the sphere, stopping just before his fingers touched the glass. “Fie mirue.” />
  “Fie mirue,” Sion repeated, unsurprised but still disappointed when nothing happened.

  “Don’t just say it. Feel it.”

  Frowning, Sion took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stared intently at the empty globe.

  Next to him, Rya giggled under her breath as she rose up on her toes for a kiss. “It’s magic, my darling. We’re not going to war.”

  “Yeah, well, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, you know.”

  He liked the way she’d said “my darling,” and combined with her full lips against his, he liked it a little too much. A warm tingle started in his stomach but quickly spread throughout the rest of his body. His pulse raced, his head swam, and his cock began to swell inappropriately within the confines of his tights.

  Without warning, the tiny, black flame leapt from his hand to the sphere—and promptly exploded. The glass turned to sand, raining down over them, and the top of the wooden post caught fire. From the crowd behind him, someone—who sounded suspiciously like Ivy—laughed. A deep, male chuckle followed, and before long, everyone gathered on the beach was laughing, including Rya.

  “Sorry,” Sion muttered, dropping his head to rub the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  With a few whispered words and a wave of her hand, Rya pieced the orb back together, extinguished the crackling fire, and replaced the black flame to its rightful place. Finished, she looked up at him with the most beautiful smile, her eyes crinkled at the corners and filled with warmth.

  “It was my fault,” she responded. “I shouldn’t have distracted you.”

  Curling his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him and bent to touch his forehead to hers. “You can distract me anytime you want, princess. Well, maybe not when fire is involved.”

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get better.”

  He still didn’t like magic, and he especially hated transporting, but when the sand beneath his feet vanished, replaced moments later by the cool tile of Rya’s room in the citadel, he had to admit both had their uses. “How did you do that?” he demanded. “I barely even felt it that time.”

  “I don’t understand.” Tilting her head to the side, Rya pursed her lips and sighed through her nose. “You are very confusing.”

  “Transporting,” he tried to explain. “It feels like someone sucked all the air out of my lungs and threw me over a cliff. Not this time, though. Not with you.” He knew he was doing a poor job of vocalizing what he wanted to say, so he stopped trying and asked another question instead. “Why are we here, princess?”

  “That was the last flame. The ceremony is over.” Grinning, she moved in closer, molding herself to his chest. “Either way, they can manage without us.” The smile faded, and she leaned back to stare up at him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I guessed if you weren’t, you’d want some privacy to be not-okay.”

  Rya watched him carefully, searching his face for the truth. He’d done well, as well as could be expected for someone just learning magic. Perhaps she should have started with something smaller. She certainly should have chosen a less public venue. It had been rash and foolish, and she wouldn’t blame him for being upset with her.

  Therein resided the real reason for their sudden departure from the beach. Though she hadn’t thought of his feelings when she’d dragged him to that pillar and insisted he perform a complicated spell in front of the gathering, she’d selfishly wanted to be somewhere private for the rebuke she’d been sure would follow.

  Sion continued to stare at her, his gaze tender as he cradled the curve of her jaw to tilt her head up for a kiss. “I’m definitely okay, princess. It’s going to take a lot more than exploding glass to ruffle my fur.”

  Profound relief swept through her, releasing the tension in her muscles. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Stop it. You did nothing wrong.” He bent and kissed her again. “Like you said, if I’m meant to rule by your side, these are things I need to learn.” Wrapping her in his arms, he held her against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head, and sighed. “I won’t lie. I don’t like magic. I’m not sure I ever will, but I have to learn.”

  Something in his voice had her leaning away to look up at him. “If you truly feel that way, then why do you say that?” He could be her soulmate, rule by her side, and never need to perform magic again. It wouldn’t matter to her. “Why do you need to learn?”

  He gave her a tight smile before tucking her close again. “To keep you safe.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The following morning found Rya and Sion tucked side by side on the plush sofa in the library. The rains had moved on, and the sun shone cheerfully through the windows, alighting the room in its sparkling rays. There were documents to go over, communications to send, and follow-ups to be made. Just because she wasn’t physically in Cairbora didn’t mean there was no work to be done.

  “Why couldn’t we do this in your room?” Sion asked, his tone petulant. “It’s barely sunrise.”

  Rya ducked her head to hide her amusement. Sion had refused to leave her alone during the night, not that she’d minded. It had been strange at first, having another person in her bed while she tried to sleep, but the feeling had settled quickly. Waking up wrapped in his powerful arms had brightened her morning considerably. Too bad she couldn’t say the same for Sion.

  “I like the library,” she answered in neutral tones. “It’s bigger.”

  In actuality, she’d known she would never get any work done in her room. Not with the six-foot distraction sitting right beside her. In the library, she wouldn’t be tempted to shirk her duties in favor of more pleasurable activities, not when any number of people could walk in on them. Not to say the thought hadn’t crossed her mind several times regardless, but she was trying.

  “You look beautiful today.”

  She’d chosen a black dress with detailed stitching that matched the color of her eyes. It wouldn’t be called fancy, but it was comfortable, and she’d forgone shoes and makeup as well. Her mass of curls trailed down her nape from the haphazard ponytail she’d secured with a fabric band Ivy had given her. While more convenient than a strip of leather, it had taken her several tries to fit the stretchy circle around her hair, and she still hadn’t decided if she liked it.

  “And, you, Sentry Jabari, want something.” They may not have known each other long, but she was getting better at reading him.

  To his credit, he didn’t attempt to deny it. “I’m hungry.” Leaning toward her, he kissed her gently and smiled in his charming way she was helpless to resist. “You really do look beautiful, though.”

  Laughing in spite of herself, she kissed him again and rose to her feet. “I guess we could pause for breakfast.”

  “Mmm,” Sion practically purred as he joined her, “I like the way you think.” His hands landed on her hips, and he pulled her close with a sharp tug. “Or…we could skip breakfast and go straight to dessert.”

  She didn’t understand the odd saying, but when his lips descended on her neck, she stopped caring. “Distraction,” she muttered.

  Sion chuckled, completely unrepentant, his warm breath fanning over her skin. Then he stood straight, his expression bright and open as he smoothed a strand that had fallen from her ponytail out of her face. “Okay, princess. I’ll behave until you’re finished with work. After that, all bets are off.”

  While she didn’t fully grasp what bets had to do with anything, the sudden swell between Sion’s thighs clearly spelled out the implications of his statement. “Come, my darling. Let’s feed you.”

  He nodded solemnly. “Yes. Let’s.”

  They’d taken only a few steps when the air around them shimmered, and Captain Tira Meadowlark materialized beside them in her black and silver uniform with her dark hair coiled into a tight bun at her crown.

  “Oh, good morning,” the captain greeted them. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

  “Damn it!” Sion sh
outed before digressing into a deluge of curses and insults.

  “Hello, Captain.” Ignoring her mate, Rya greeted the female with a nod. “What brings you here this morning?”

  “Vasera.” With her hands fisted at her side, Tira bowed slightly from the waist. “I’ve come to ward the library. Vasili Blackthorn has requested a meeting of the Five Isles, and he wants to make sure the conversation isn’t overheard.”

  “What the hell?” Sion demanded. “It was too much to ask for you to use the door?”

  Tira’s brow furrowed as she looked between the library door and the shifter. “No one asked me to use the door. Only you can decide if that is too much to ask, but as I can simply transport, it seems needless and inefficient.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Sion glared at the captain. “I’ve seen you use the door before.”

  “Well, yes. There are times when propriety must override efficiency.”

  Finding Tira’s explanation perfectly sensible, Rya bobbed her head in agreement.

  Sion opened his mouth, surely to argue his point further, but stopped and turned when he noticed her nodding. “Okay, hold on. Let’s back up here, princess.”

  She didn’t understand the request, but smiled politely and took a measured step backward. “To what would you have me hold?”

  “I—what?” Resting his hands on his hips, Sion dropped his head and sighed. “Just…never mind.”

  “I believe he means that he would like revisit a previous topic.”

  Looking over her shoulder, Rya frowned at the captain. “Then why didn’t he just say that?”

  Tira shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ve had much practice with Ivy interpreting these strange sayings.”

  “They do speak very oddly,” Rya agreed.

  “Hello.” Sion waved a hand in front of her face. “Standing right here.”

  “Greetings to you as well.” Her mate was so confusing. “Would you rather be sitting?”