Feeling stronger now, he looked at her. She was staring down at her lap, her forehead creased with disappointment. He hated letting her down. But he’d rather have her angry with him than abused by his hands ever again. “I’m in a better place now. I’ve even learned to shield myself from sensing your every emotion. Well, pretty much. It’s easier when I only have my own feelings to contend with, but I still fear losing control. That must never happen again. Right now as it stands, being too close to you is having an effect on me. My mind fogs and something wild claws its way out––something I’m not strong enough to tame. At least not yet. That’s why we need space from each other until I’ve got a better grip on this. Then we can move onto The Bloodthirsty Oak and I’ll do everything within my power to rid myself of this demon once and for all. Or die trying.” He waited for her to respond but she remained silent and deflated. “Is any of this making sense to you?”
She straightened and faced him. It took a moment for her cold, remote gaze to set in. The light of her heart was subdued now, the beat steady. There was an eerie calmness that shouldn’t be there.
His heart thudded with panic. “Please say something.” She stood up, meeting his gaze head on but staring right through him. He’d seen that look before, the warrior stare when she’d been under Murauda’s thrall. “I understand. I’ll leave you alone,” she said, her voice flat.
As she rounded the table, he stood up so fast his chair fell over. He caught her by the wrist. “Don’t…don’t leave like this.”
Twisting her wrist, she wrenched free of his grasp and pushed him back with startling strength. “This is your choice, Finn, not mine. But you can’t expect to have it both ways.”
Too dumbstruck to speak, he pressed a fist over the pain in his chest, his heart shriveling with each stride she took away from him.
Chapter 31
THE NEXT FOUR WEEKS after Fate had drawn the line in the sand between them were excruciating. Every time she replayed that final moment in her mind––which was a lot––she crumbled inside. But what was she to do? Short of standing naked before Finn, she’d poured her heart out under the assumption he felt exactly the same. And what had he done? He’d shut down and rattled off a bunch of flimsy reasons they shouldn’t be together, not even asking how she felt about it. She couldn’t understand why he felt the need to protect her. She wasn’t the weakling she used to be. Couldn’t he see that?
Still, she regretted having closed the door on him, but what hurt most was that he’d left it closed. Several days after that disastrous night, he’d sent a note. She’d ripped it open, expecting a change of heart, or at least some hint that he missed her as much as she did him. But it had been an impersonal message saying he’d be ready to move onto the next fable after Rudwor’s coronation in a month.
After that, Finn spent his days with Rudwor. At first she was miserable with grief, but as the days passed, anger set in, triggering the unbearable energy build up. She returned to her training like never before. The sparring, target shooting and hand-to-hand combat sharpened her mind and strengthened her body but did nothing to rebuild her broken heart. Whenever she saw Finn, either from afar or at the occasional dinner, his carefree attitude only increased her pain. By all outward appearances, he seemed quite content with the distance between them.
•
The night of the coronation arrived at long last. Fate wanted to wear something Finn would find utterly irresistible, so she fussed over every detail of her dress with Sithias’s help. Together they designed a cream-colored gown that pooled around her like dollops of whipped cream. She had to rewrite the description of the bodice several times before he agreed the one stitched with lustrous pearls and scooped neckline would do the trick. Then he decided she needed to make her hair long to the waist and braid it loosely with a strand of fragrant gardenias. With that final touch, he gave her a teary-eyed nod of approval, deeming their creation heavenly. He especially liked how the gown downplayed her newly developed “mannish” qualities.
During the coronation, Finn stood next to Rudwor in full regalia––the traditional Beldereth black and gray tartan kilt and charcoal jacket trimmed in silver buttons embossed with the royal crest. Much to Fate’s surprise, the new king awarded him the station of First Knight. Having known nothing of this, she watched them from her pew several rows back, uneasy with how Rudwor looked at him like a proud father.
She didn’t like it. She didn’t like any of it one bit.
A grand feast followed the coronation. She sat opposite Finn but three seats down. Keeping her gaze from meeting his, she made every attempt to converse merrily with whomever she could. She’d give him a taste of his own bitter medicine and freeze him out, but she drove herself crazy wondering if he even noticed.
When the dancing began, she gave up and glanced over at him. His chair was empty. When she saw him on the dance floor with Meara, a beautiful blue-eyed blonde who had been one of the many young women Murauda had knighted, an unbearable tightness squeezed the air from her lungs. Finn was holding Meara close and whispering in her ear.
It was plain to see he’d moved on, a certainty solidified by a constant stream of women keeping him dancing throughout the night. Fate knew there was a shortage of available men in Beldereth, but the women were drawn to him like moths to a flame and he didn’t even bother to pretend he wanted her company. Even Sithias was being kept busy on the dance floor, but he at least found a moment to slip away and pull her out to join him.
“I can sssee the dessspair paling your lovely face, misss,” he said. “You mussstn’t let your emotionsss get the bessst of you now.”
“Look at him, all irritatingly gorgeous and acting like I don’t exist. It’s his way of letting me know it’s over.”
“Did he sssay that to you?”
“He doesn’t need to.” When she saw that Sithias didn’t believe her, she said, “I guess I always knew it would be this way, but I hoped maybe he’d choose me after I set him free.”
Sithias’s eyebrows shot up, puzzled.
“I used my Words of Making to release Finn from that Vulcan mind meld we have with each other. He needs to be the creator of his own life and choose who to love without being magically handcuffed to me.”
“When did you do that?”
“The day he sent me that unfeeling memo letting me know his chosen departure date from Beldereth.”
Understanding filled his eyes. “Oh, I sssee…”
Unable to face the truth any longer, Fate dropped her forehead against his shoulder. “I can’t do this,” she said, her voice faltering in her throat.
Before he could say another word, she ran from the ballroom.
When she arrived in her bedchamber, she let her beautiful dress fall in a crumpled heap, slipped into her nightgown and crawled onto the bed. The heavy scent from the gardenias braided in her hair choked in her throat. As she ripped them out, hot tears ran unchecked and sobs tore from her aching chest, until at long last, exhaustion forced a surrender to merciful sleep.
•
Finn stared at the whorls and knots of the heavy wooden door, suddenly frozen with uncertainty. He’d been working toward this moment all month, meditating, reading sacred texts and maintaining his purifying rituals without fail. Rudwor felt confident he was ready to test himself, see if he could Stay Whole, as the monks called it, in Fate’s presence. But what if he failed? He turned his head slightly, seeing the feet of the warrior knights he’d posted on either side of the door. She’d be safe if the worst happened. They were eight of Beldereth’s best.
As he knocked on the door, his heart raced. The seconds ticked by like minutes. He was just about to knock again when the door opened. Fate stood before him, an exquisite, tousled mess. The moonlight shining from the window at her back sifted through her thin nightgown, casting each perfect curve in soft silhouette. As she rubbed her sleepy eyes and looked up at him in surprise, he gripped the doorway and gulped. “Uh…” His mind went blank.
“Why did you leave?” he asked, unable to raise his voice above a rough whisper.
The corners of her mouth curved down. “You have to ask?”
Digging his fingers into the wood, he followed the path of her long hair falling against the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Every thought burned away as he lifted a silken lock to his nose and inhaled the intoxicating scent of gardenias lingering in her hair. A sudden fever rose beneath his skin and his body pulled tight.
Swallowing dryly, he let go and grabbed the other side of the doorway. It was all he could do to keep from descending on her in a rush of blind passion. “Fate,” he managed to say, “I wanted to dance with you one last time.”
She looked crestfallen. “One last time?”
“Did you forget we’re leaving tomorrow to go into the last fable?” he asked, the angst of leaving Beldereth clearing his mind a little.
Her eyes widened with hope. “You still plan to go?”
Forcing his gaze to the window, he stared at the full moon grazing the distant mountain peaks. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been dreading it. But what choice do I have?”
“You could stay,” she said. “You seem to be fine now.”
He dropped his gaze back to her. Helplessly drawn in, he bent his head and leaned toward her. “I’ve missed you so much.”
The light of her heart had diminished to a faint glow over the last month, but it suddenly flared bright, pulsing fast as she stepped closer and touched her lips to his, feather light like the silken touch of butterfly wings. He lost himself once again.
“Stay with me tonight,” she whispered.
He drew back in surprise. After their last encounter he’d expected some resistance on her part, especially since she’d avoided all contact with him at the ball. She was so open right now, too open. His confidence cracked. “I shouldn’t.”
She pried one of his hands free from the doorway. “Just be with me. Nothing more.”
He stiffened, stricken by fear, yet unable to make himself leave.
She smiled. “Stop worrying, I’m not the helpless girl I was three months ago.” Her expression grew serious, intent. “I have faith in you, Finn.”
The conviction in her voice strengthened him more than she would ever know. Letting go of his anchor, he allowed her to pull him into the room. Without taking her eyes off his, she kicked the door closed behind her. As she padded toward the bed, she glanced over her shoulder. He went rigid as she settled within the downy softness of the pillows and featherbed.
She patted the mattress, gesturing for him to sit next to her. “I won’t bite. Not much anyway,” she said, a mischievous light in her eyes.
“Not funny,” he muttered, clamping down hard and fast on the explosion of heat coursing through him. Taking a deep measured breath, he crossed the room slowly, repeating the tranquility mantra in his mind, but his concentration crumbled when he stepped on the gardenias scattered by the bed, their perfume releasing into the air. He took a step backward, stopping when she reached forward to grab his hand.
“Can I…can I see the scar? The one I gave you?” The playfulness had gone out of her voice.
“It’s not all that pretty.”
“Please, I want to see it.” Shifting her weight, she raised onto her knees, unbuttoning his jacket with hands shaking.
He gritted his teeth, fighting the wave of mindless abandon washing over him. As she pulled his shirt back, her fingers skimmed over his skin. Trembling beneath her touch, he gripped the carved bedpost, squeezing ‘til his fingers ached.
Hearing a little gasp, he glanced down. Shame warmed her face as she stared at the scar. It was fully healed but remained a thick, purplish welt. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry yourself over it,” he said. Brushing his hand over her hair, he kissed the top of her head, wanting only to ease her guilt. “Like I said, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Same goes for the others.”
Her gaze moved to the rake of four scars the wolverine had given him. “You never told me how those happened.”
“You’re right, I never did,” he said, relaxing enough to sit down next to her. Talking was just the distraction he needed. She moved over, tucking her legs up under her nightgown and pulling the hem tight over her toes the way she probably had when she was a little girl. Feeling more comfortable, he settled against the pillows, stretching his legs out in front of him and hands behind his head as he described the wolverine attack and the underlying meaning of the animal’s ultimate sacrifice.
Fate listened in rapt attention. When he was done with his story, she pointed at the faint scar Tove had branded into his skin the night she’d found him at the troll mound. “And this? Why did she burn that mark into you?”
“It’s a purging rune,” he said, thinking of Tove. For a brief moment he was back in the Twisted Bone Forest, remembering that simple, peaceful time. “It’s burned into the skin to clear out whatever the body needs to be rid of, in order to heal––in my case, the poison. Of course, it didn’t work on me.” He lapsed into silence, that ever-present burden weighing him down.
“Do you still love her?”
The answer came to him in an instant but he hesitated. He didn’t wish to hurt Fate. Then again, he couldn’t lie to her either. She deserved his honesty. “Aye,” he said at last, “I still love her, but not in the way I love you.”
The light of her shining heart crept into her neck, betraying her escalating pulse. “How can you love us both?”
“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it isn’t as simple as pushing a button to turn off my feelings for Tove. You have to understand, she threw me a lifeline when I was near death, and she brought me out of it a stronger and wiser person. I’ll be forever grateful to her and Grysla for that.”
“But you fell in love with Tove.”
“Aye, I did. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. She’s not of our world, yet she’s connected to everything around her in a way that’s extraordinary.” Fate jumped to her feet and would’ve leaped off the end of the bed had he not instinctively grabbed her by the waist. She struggled against him as he pulled her back down to sit beside him. “Don’t, Fate,” he said, folding his arms around her, touching his forehead to hers, “you gave me everything. Tove may have saved my life, but you gave me life.
I am who I am because of you.”
She went still in his arms.
“Telling you this is long overdue,” he continued, “only because it’s taken me a good while to come around to it. But now that I have, I know it’s why we’re so deeply connected. We’re part of each other, two halves of a whole––”
“You still feel that way?” she said, tensing again.
“And why wouldn’t I?”
“No reason,” she said too quickly, a sure sign she wasn’t telling him everything.
He loosened his grip, pulling back to look at her. The disappointment in her eyes only confused him further.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…if you’re drawn to me over the incomparable Tove, because as you say, I’m you and you’re me, it makes all this a bit narcissistic. Don’t you think?”
“It’s not like that and you know it. Fate Floyd, writer extraordinaire, may have given me the stuff I’m made of, but I’m my own man now. As each day goes by, I become more than what you made me.” He paused, brushing the back of his hand along one side of her face, so beautiful in the milky light of the moon. “And I am someone who finds you absolutely captivating.”
She went limp as all the tension drained out of her. “You do?”
“I do,” he said, needing desperately to show her he meant every word, but he couldn’t risk even a kiss without going to a dangerous place. Then it came to him. He opened the sealskin sporran at his waist and pulled out his mother’s ribbon. “I want you to have this
.”
She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. I know how much it means to you.”
“Aye, then you know it’s like a piece of my heart. So don’t say no.” He wrapped the white satin ribbon around her wrist several times and tied it, sealing the knot with a kiss.
Smiling shyly, she rubbed the silky fabric against her cheek. “Does this mean we’ve tied the knot again?”
“Our knot’s always been tied and never undone,” he whispered, his throat tight with overwhelming joy. She’s mine. Smiling, he pulled her close and leaned back into the pillows.
She eased her head down on his chest. “This is good.”
“Aye,” he agreed.
•
The morning sun blazed bright through the window, prodding Finn awake. He opened his eyes in a panic, fearful of what he might’ve done after losing consciousness. When he saw that Fate was still curled into him and sleeping peacefully, he relaxed, grateful he’d managed to Stay Whole through the night. He sank back into the pillow as the memory of what they’d shared flooded him with peace. So much had been healed between them. They’d united in heart and mind. And as tempting as it was to make love when words could no longer express their feelings for each other, he’d had to hold back. There was no way he could risk letting his guard down to that degree. Not yet. Fate had understood, but that hadn’t kept the raw desire in her from overflowing. She’d been awash in it, a bittersweet form of torture for him. He’d had to call upon every discipline he’d learned from the monks to keep a tight rein on himself…and still did.
Fate's Fables Boxed Set (Fables 1 - 8): One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales Page 34
