by Calista Fox
Morgan was out of his seat in a heartbeat, leaning toward the stunning necklace that lay against silver satin folds. “The Star of Nathea? It exists.”
“Yes.” Strung on a wide, black satin ribbon was a large white and black diamond-encrusted star-shaped pendant. The faceted center was slightly raised and created a stunning spectrum of colors under the candlelight.
Lifting the necklace, Davian said, “It was forged by the Demon Princess Nathea of Athens, who lost her mortal lover in battle. She was heartbroken and wanted to ease the harrowing torture of others who might share her same fate if they fell in love with a human.”
Not a common occurrence, he’d learned. But not an unfathomable one, either.
He added, “This jewel has been in my family since the early 700s, following my ancestors’ gift of immortality. It passes through a specific branch of my family tree from generation to generation. It’s very secretive—no one was alerted as to whom it was last given.”
Morgan eyed him curiously. “And you intend to bestow it upon Jade.”
“Though not for the purpose of making her immortal.”
“Why on earth not?”
Davian sat back in his chair. “It’s complicated. But there are certain undisputable facts I can’t ignore. First, while my kingdom would have no choice but to accept her if I granted her immortality, the castle isn’t really where she belongs.”
Morgan nodded. “She is fiercely devoted to the village and its people. She would willingly defy you in order to keep her friends and neighbors from harm.”
“Yes, she’s already proven that. Nor does she want to leave her family’s cottage. Another glaring point made when she refused to move after her parents died.”
Davian returned the necklace to its nesting place and then drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Next is the fact that she’s been carrying around tormenting memories for fifteen years. I highly doubt she’d want to spend an eternity with them. Her memory would sharpen with her more heightened senses, not fade. Her internal turmoil might even increase because of it.”
His friend was silent for a moment, processing. Then Morgan asked, “So why give her the necklace? If you have no intention of invoking the gift, what would be the purpose, other than to establish that she belon—Oh.” Shooting to his feet, Morgan began to pace. “Your desire to mark your territory could come with severe consequences, my Lord.”
“I understand that.”
A grave expression crossed the general’s face. “It’s not worth it, Davian. It might even be hazardous for her.”
“Or helpful. No demon would lay a hand on her.”
“From your alliance. But those who haven’t pledged their allegiance to you and your laws…?”
He sighed. Of course he’d considered this.
“What if it emasculates your authority?” Morgan further challenged. “Claiming a human lover could very easily give the illusion your sympathies have shifted away from your own species.”
“That’s never been the case in the past, with Nathea or my ancestors.”
“These are much different times than in the past, Davian.”
With a scowl, he said, “I’m well aware of that.”
“And she typically has a say when something goes awry in the village. That could become a reflection upon you.”
“She doesn’t serve Ryleigh in an official capacity. She has influence within the community, yes. But essentially, she’s just a villager. It’s not as though we’re going to clash on military matters. That’s what you and the slayers do.”
“You should think twice about this.” Morgan raised his hands as though to indicate that was all he’d say on the matter.
Davian nodded. “I’ll take your words—and your concerns—under advisement.”
Morgan hesitated, but then said, “I have messages to send to the stewards and patrols to set up. I’ll check in with you as soon as I’ve assembled everything.”
“Very good.”
The general turned to go, but gave a glance over his shoulder.
“Yes, Morgan?”
He shook his head and a hint of consternation flashed in his eyes. “Nothing.” He left the room.
Davian placed the Star of Nathea back in the cabinet. He had guards who ensured no one but Morgan, Sheena and Jocelyn entered his wing of the palace, so he wasn’t particularly worried about anyone stealing the necklace. Nor had anyone known he possessed it, until now. But, of course, Morgan would never tell a soul.
He considered his friend’s warning about entering the village and presenting Jade with the piece of jewelry and decided it best to rethink both ideas.
Chapter Thirteen
Jade was out of wood. The fire wraith had charred several trees alongside her cottage when it had terrorized her and had also set her wood pile ablaze. The slayers had told her they’d put out the fire with Morgan’s help. She’d hoped the logs and kindling she kept inside the house would hold up a while longer, but it was damn cold. Jinx had been right. It was already proving to be a harsh winter.
She strapped Toran’s sword belt to her waist and donned Sheena’s cape along with her own gloves. Taking her empty tinderbox outside, she set it on the bench. She’d left the shovel leaning against the wall, having used it to remove the snow from the short walkway and the stone patio, the blizzard defying the overhang meant to protect it.
Jade took the shovel to the side yard and dug a hole to the hard soil beneath the knee-deep drifts. The effort was slow going, but she didn’t have anything else to do during the day. Plus, it was Sunday, so the tavern was closed.
The physical exertion and the thick clothing she wore kept her warm, though she’d had to pull her scarf around her face, just below her eyes, and use the hood on the cape as a light snowfall started again.
She made a good-size dent in the bank and sighed with relief when she discovered a bounty of fallen branches. She knelt and began collecting them, but stilled when she heard a rider approach from behind. Her heart already beat heavily from moving the snow and now leapt into her throat.
Slowly, Jade returned her armful of tree limbs to the ground and stealthily reached for the hilt of the sword. She let the horse draw near. Then, in a fluid movement, she whisked the blade from its sheath and whirled around to confront whoever snuck up on her, sword raised.
“I thought you were told to stay inside.”
“Jesus.” She returned the weapon to its casing and pulled the scarf from her mouth to scowl at Davian. “You scared the hell out of me. Try not to do that again, please.”
He slipped from the back of his dark-as-night Arabian in a graceful manner she admired. “I’m glad you’re so alert.”
“Yes, heart pounding vigorously and blood pressure skyrocketing. Unfortunately, I’m about to be frozen to the core. The fire wraith burned my wood supply.”
Davian frowned. His gaze slid to the two chimneys. “Not much smoke coming from those. Do you actually have a blaze going or just smoldering embers?”
“Embers in the living room, a little more than that in the bedroom. I was about to take my hatchet to the legs of a chair, but I knew there’d be plenty of debris out here.”
“Just had to dig your way to it, I see.” He came closer to her and handed over the reins. “This is Thunder. Why don’t you walk him over to the house? I’ll meet you inside.”
The horse neighed softly in greeting. Jade smiled. “Aren’t you handsome?” She rubbed his nose and he seemed to enjoy it.
“He likes you,” the king said. “From the moment he saw you, years ago.”
“I’m flattered,” she told Thunder. “How about a snack?”
She led him to the cottage. Over her shoulder, she asked Davian, “Do I need to tie him up?”
“No. He won’t go anywhere without me.”
“Loyalty,” she said to the Arabian. “I like that in a horse.” He blew a snort of air, as though insulted she’d expect less of him. She laughed. “No offense.”
Leaving the horse by the patio, she went inside and chopped a few carrots, then fed him. Afterward, she returned to her living room. She draped the wet cape, her scarf and gloves over a clothes rack in the corner by the fireplace. Not that it currently emitted enough heat to dry the outerwear, but eventually it would.
Davian joined her with the tinderbox nearly overflowing and an armful of logs. “This’ll get you started. I’ll shovel out more snow and bring in additional loads.”
He left her tending to the fire as he went back outside. She had both hearths blazing bright and the house was less frigid as he stacked a third heap next to her front door.
“This ought to last you a while.”
“Thank you. You work much faster than I do.”
“I’ll have Morgan send someone with a cord of wood for your patio.”
“That’s nice of you. I’ll take you up on that offer.” Fire was a necessity in her life, after all. Gazing up at him, she asked, “What are you doing here? Other than rescuing a damsel in distress again.”
He chuckled, the sexy rumble adding more warmth to her home. “You hardly fit that bill. You would have managed just fine without me.” The expression on his chiseled face turned more serious. “I wanted to see you.”
Excitement lit her insides, but dread edged in on her as well. They’d both agreed what had happened at the castle was not meant to go beyond those walls. So she asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Not at present. The band of demons Morgan discovered have yet to regroup. The fire wraith is nowhere to be found. And the wide-area patrols haven’t turned up anything.”
“That’s good news.” Her apprehension dissipated. “So this is a social call?”
A surreal notion. Yet an intriguing one.
“I have something for you.” He reached into the wide pocket of his full-length cloak and then handed her a gift.
“You brought Pride and Prejudice to me.”
“Thought it might help to pass the time.”
“Very helpful. Thank you.”
He divested himself of his cloak and gloves before suggesting, “Why don’t we sit?” He motioned toward the sofa and followed her there, sinking into the cushion next to her, which was on the thin side from old age. “It’s very quiet here,” he commented.
“Sometimes too quiet. Although, in the late spring and summer, I open the windows and backdoors so I can hear the river running.”
She’d considered placing pots of wildflowers on the patios to brighten the cottage, though she’d have to move them in during the winter months and hope they survived without much direct sunlight. She hated the idea of them dying on her, so she’d never gotten around to doing it.
“You weren’t afraid of being here alone when you were a little girl?”
She hedged, wondering if there was a purpose to divulging details of her personal life with this man, given their forbidden association. And the affair’s tragically short shelf-life.
As usual, though, it proved impossible to keep anything from him. She admitted, “At first, it didn’t fully register because I was so upset about my parents. I cried myself to sleep every night. Then I started to worry if the shifters would come for me. Ironically, that’s one of the reasons I stayed. I didn’t want them hunting me down at someone else’s home, for fear I’d be putting other people in danger. I couldn’t stand the thought of having what happened to my family happen to others.”
He stretched an arm along the back of the sofa, rotating his body a few degrees so he faced her. His presence made her furniture and her cottage seem much smaller, yet in a cozy, intimate way.
“That must have been an extremely difficult time,” he said.
“Yes. Every little noise frayed my nerves. But eventually, I got used to it. Or at least, I’d resigned myself to it. I didn’t want to leave; therefore, I had to keep myself busy and my mind occupied so I wouldn’t be upset all day and night or worry over every crunch of twigs from animals or brushing of tree branches against the side of the house in a stiff breeze. Every owl that cried out.”
“Is that how you learned to suppress your feelings?”
She nodded. “That’s one of the things I did to occupy myself. I worked on pushing all the feelings down to the pit of my stomach. I’d visualize a black hole deep within me, and I forced all the sensations into it.”
“But there’s no lid to cover the hole?”
“Does anyone have that kind of control over their emotions?”
He contemplated this a moment. “I suppose a few do. You’re good at it, after all.”
“Years of practice.”
“And obviously an inherent survival tactic you’ve mastered.”
“I wouldn’t say I’ve mastered it.”
They fell silent, which was not the least bit uncomfortable. Although it was certainly a bizarre occurrence to have the most powerful man on the continent in her modest home, it also felt soothing. However, she sensed there was more to his unexpected visit than to lend her a book.
“You’re pensive,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t have news about the fire wraith?”
“Morgan hasn’t located him. Wraiths can be very difficult to track when they vanish completely. One of his men did find the horse. The beast didn’t survive its injury. The patrols are now reaching farther in an attempt to find the demons that had banded with the ghost.”
She studied his tense expression, then asked, “You don’t believe they’ve simply given up?”
“I suspect the wraith will return. I don’t intend to give him purpose to enter the village, though. If he wants to come after me, he’ll have to do it on my territory.”
Jade’s heart sank. Not a sensible feeling to have, but she couldn’t help it. “Meaning this is the last I’ll see of you.”
“My presence is what got you hurt.”
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said, a bit too speedily. His gaze narrowed on her. She explained, “It’s a natural progression for humans, Davian. An inescapable reality. And one that offers the hope of reuniting with the loved ones we’ve lost along the way.”
Her response seemed to agitate him, because he stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace.
“I wasn’t being accusatory,” she told him. “About my parents’ deaths.”
He pulled up short. “I take full responsibility for my actions and their impact on your race. I’ve already confessed as much.”
“That wasn’t what I was getting at all.”
Letting out a long breath, he said, “You miss your parents. I understand that. But you’re alive, and you have the potential for a richer life than you’ve recently led.”
She resisted the urge to scoff at him. “How do you figure?”
He pinned her with a shrewd look. “I have something to say and I want you to weigh my words carefully. Put substantial thought into my idea, Jade.”
Her curiosity mounted. “All right.”
He turned away for a few seconds and she noted his bunched shoulders and rigid stance. Whatever he was about to lay at her feet seemed to eat away at him. She left the sofa and crossed to where he stood.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, she softly prompted, “What is it, Davian?”
“Likely the most difficult thing I’ve had to do since the war ended.” He faced her, his amber irises stormy with dark emotions she couldn’t read. “I want you to marry Michael Hadley.”
Jade stared at him, aghast.
The Demon King rushed on, insisting, “It’s the only thing that makes sense, Jade. He’s your closest companion and the two of you could have a family together.” Jade opened her mouth to protest, but he said, “If you don’t want to leave the cottage, have him move in here.”
Anger and disbelief replaced her shock. “Really? Have him move into my house, which is in perfect alignment with your bedroom windows?”
Davian groaned. “You have an overhang along the back portion. I can’t see into your house, Jade.”
/> “But you can see it.”
With a shake of his head, he said, “That’s completely irrelevant.”
“Is it?”
The flash of aggravation in his eyes told her he loathed the idea he’d presented.
She pushed him hard, for even suggesting such a thing. “You’d really be okay with seeing our children playing in the yard? Or Michael and I strolling hand and hand along the riverbank?”
His teeth ground.
“No,” she added. “I didn’t think so.”
She returned to the sofa. Davian remained quiet as he seethed or bristled or did whatever he did that made him even more intimidating with his broody air.
Prickly sensations made her say, “If that’s what you came here to tell me, I get the message loud and clear. We can’t be together, but don’t try to hand me off to someone you kept me from being with in the first place.”
Her own temper boiled. She crossed her arms and legs, awaiting his response. Endless minutes ticked by, until he finally joined her on the couch.
“You deserve more than this, Jade. I can give you a lot—but, as I’ve mentioned, I can’t give you everything.”
“I’m not asking for anything.”
“That’s the problem.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, his hands dangling between his parted legs. A defeated look, she decided. And one she found disconcerting, particularly coming from him.
She said, “You realize we’re just picking at a scab, right? And there’s nothing healed or pleasant underneath.”
“Maybe that’s why we’ve come back to this.” His gaze shifted from the fire to her. “You have to admit, we’re similar in many respects.”
“And worlds apart in others.”
His voice lowered. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“Yes, it does. I can’t change who I am—I wouldn’t if I could. And I know my place.”
He swept his fingers through her hair. “I admire that about you. But I also want to alter it.”
“I don’t.” Jade unfolded her arms and linked one with his, leaning into him.
