by Sumida, Amy
“You can't leave me, you're my wife!”
I turned back to Arach slowly. “And now you've made me more bitter. I disavow you, the vows I spoke were in my heart waiting to be said to another. You stole them along with my mind,” I yanked the gold band and sparkling ring off my finger and dropped them at his feet.
“I'm so sorry,” Arach hung his head, staring at the rings at his feet, and I felt a momentary surge of pity.
“I'm sorry too,” I let out a shuddering breath and picked up my leather journal. It was the only thing I wanted to keep. “I'm sorry you made me want something I can't have and then made it traitorous to even want it anymore. Goodbye, Arach, last of the dragon-sidhe.”
I took the hand of my werewolf Prince and left my dragon King to his regrets.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
“How are we going to get through?” I walked between Trevor and Roarke, constantly glancing over my shoulder to see if we were being followed.
“The King has lowered the wards,” Trevor grimaced. “I'm glad because it means we can get you out but worried about the fey returning to the Human Realm.”
“Let's worry about that later, shall we?” Roarke was quickening his pace. “We have more pressing matters, like not getting roasted alive.”
“I don't think he'll come after me,” I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. My heart hurt, maybe because it was being torn in two.
“Have you met your husband?” Roarke scoffed. “The very obsessive dragon who likes to hoard things and desperately wants the continuation of his race?”
“Don't call him that,” Trevor growled.
“Sorry, wolfling,” Roarke smirked, “that's what he is. She can disavow him all she wants but in fey marriage, both parties must agree to the separation. Something tells me King Arach won't be so amenable.”
“He's hurt me,” I tried to get my breathing under control but it was coming faster. “He knows it and I think he'll let me go because of it.”
“Well, I have to admit,” Roarke shook his head, “I didn't think we'd be getting out of Castle Aithinne without a fight but the King I know wouldn't let you go just because he hurt you. In fact, hurting you shouldn't even register as a bad thing for him.”
“He's not the same man anymore,” I whispered.
“Huh,” Roarke looked me over.
“Just a few more miles, ahh!” Trevor stomped on a pile of grass.
“Stop that,” I pulled him away, “what are you doing?”
“It stabbed me,” he looked at me in shock.
“Because you scared it,” I gestured to the broken blades. “Leave the plants be.”
“Yes, your majesty,” he scowled.
“It's just Queen Vervain, Your Majesty is a human title,” I huffed a laugh. “Walk more gently and they won't bother you.”
“I'm a wolf,” he huffed back. “I always walk gently.”
“No, you walk quietly,” I showed him my soft step, “there is a difference.”
“Just stop scaring the plants,” Roarke laughed and skipped through the forest. “It's easy if you're fey.”
“I'm not fey.”
“Oh, right,” Roarke shrugged. “Tromp away then, just guard your ankles.”
“Here we are,” I cut off any new arguments. I clutched my journal as I stared at the huge tree and remembered Odin riding out of it.
“Yes,” Roarke beamed. “You do remember.”
“So the Aether is open? We can just jump in?” My body was beginning to shake, delayed reaction, I guess.
“Yes, Queen Vervain,” Roarke bowed, “and this is where I bid you farewell.”
“Your mission is done?” I was going to miss the cat. Now that I remembered him.
“Yes,” he grinned, “but the ways are open now and I may visit you if you allow it.”
“I assume you know the chant already,” I shot him a grin. Those damn cat ears must have overheard it and it was a good thing too because my men wouldn't have known what had happened to me if Roarke hadn't been able to get back into the Palace.
“I may have heard the words spoken,” he shrugged. “Do I have your permission to use them?”
“Roarke,” I shook his hand. “You're the reason I'm able to go home, how could I deny you a welcome there? You may visit anytime you wish and for as long as you wish.”
“Oh,” he shrugged, “just doing my duty.”
“Still,” I smiled and pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome, Queen Vervain.”
“Would you like to go home now?” Trevor offered me his hand.
“I couldn't be more ready,” I took his hand, took a deep breath, and followed him into the Aether.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
There were so many bodies, so many people touching me, hugging me. My throat was going dry and closing up. My head was starting to pound and my heart was racing. I kept scratching at my skin, I didn't feel comfortable in it. Then I took a deep breath and let it out slowly but it did nothing to calm my rising sense of panic. I couldn't do this, no more. Stop touching me!
“Stop,” I raked my hands over my scalp and squinted against the barrage of emotions hitting me. “No, no, no,” I began to chant as I backed out of the common room in Pride Palace.
I knew everyone had stopped talking to stare at me. I could feel their anxious glances and smell their concern. I didn't want to disappoint my friends but my mind was all mixed up on who exactly that was anymore. They'd gone three days without me, I'd gone three months without even knowing they existed, in another world, another life. That damn faerie time thing.
I got to the door and ran. Everywhere I looked I saw hands reaching for me, wanting something from me. They all wanted something. A smile, a blade, a fuck. I had visions of Anubis, standing over me, gloriously nude with the end of a gold chain in his hand. Then Arach, kneeling in front of me, pledging his love to me forever. I saw monsters turn into friends, and lovers turn into monsters. I began to scream.
I stumbled into a room filled with books. Oh, here there was a measure of calm. Then I saw a smiling Anubis, reading a book in the golden light of the Underworld. Arach, searching for a title for me from among the hundreds of fey literature he'd collected. Thor, throwing a vase at my head. Even this room, my sanctuary, brought memories of the ones who'd hurt me.
The beasts within me were whimpering. Wounded animals looking for a dark corner to lick our wounds in. I scurried under a table just as someone came into the room after me. No, I can't be found. Don't touch me. Don't touch. I pushed back into the dark and curled into a ball. Rocking myself, I began to cry.
“Vervain?” Trevor was calling me but I didn't look, couldn't look. He reached out a hand for me and I cringed away. “Minn Elska, what's wrong?”
I hissed at him. Hissed and bared my teeth as a warning. Leave me be, cur. No one's going to touch me again. I'm done, done being abused, tricked, and betrayed. Trapped, I was always trapped. Steel and rope and magic. Flashes of my past with my four lovers were colliding with the recent memories I'd made with my husband. Yes, as much as I'd renounced him, as much as he betrayed me, I still loved him, still felt as if I was married to Arach.
I groaned and began rocking harder. Out, out damn spot. Out, out spam dot. I laughed and even to my ears, it sounded insane. What play was that? Macbeth? Did they have spam back then?Were there witches? I think so, they were toiling and troubling, bubbling and stirring. Scribble, scribble, scribble while you dribble, dribble, dribble. Oh, my heart hurt so badly. Someone make it stop.
“I don't know what to do,” more voices.
“Vervain?” I saw a head lean over the table edge to look in on me and I swiped at it. It disappeared fast and I felt a horrible satisfaction. “Vervain,” it continued. “You're unwell, let me take a look at you.” I started to growl. “Fine, fine,” footsteps and muffled talking but my ears were so sharp now, I could focus and make it clear. “She needs some space. Let her be for now. All of this would b
e hard on anyone but for someone who has already gone through it, it may be mind-breaking. Bring in some of her things, anything that may make her feel more comfortable.”
“Get out,” this voice had a thick Russian accent and made my heart hurt even more. I began to sob.
“I'm not fucking leaving her, Kirill.”
“Da, you are. Now, or I toss you out on furry ass. I vill handle zis.”
“Fuck you...”
“No, wait. Kirill, out of all of us, has a unique perspective here. Let him try.”
“Mother?”
“Oh fuck, get him out of here.”
“Mom!”
I cringed, my belly spasming. Had I born a child? Wasn't I supposed to? An entire race depended on me getting knocked up. If only my husband hadn't turned out to be a blood-licking, lying, mind-fucking, rapist. If I hadn't left, I might have conceived, might have born him a child. A dragon-sidhe child. My stomach churned and I swallowed down the bile. What if I had already conceived? I could be carrying that monster's child. The dragon I loved. Or was it hated?
I let out a thin, keening sound, stopping all conversations, especially the one in my head.
“Now go!”
“No,” I whispered and held my belly. “Please no.” If I was pregnant, this would never end. My child and I would be tied to that bastard forever. Endless fighting over the new dragon-sidhe heir and what if the fey did what they did best and stole my baby? The cycle of abuse would start again with my child.
Footsteps again. Doors opening and closing. Sounds of a home I didn't belong to anymore. I let it all slide over me as I slipped into memories, faces blurring over faces, blood flowing over them all, and lovers falling from the sky. Everything was a confused jumble that I didn't want to try and sort out. It was so clear, just a short time ago, wasn't it? Someone had kissed me and destroyed my life, changed me from wife to victim.
No more, no more. Done now, I scratched at my face, there should be scales on my cheeks. Why was my skin so smooth? No, a tattoo, there was a tattoo on my face. No, someone else's face. It glowed, no those were eyes that glowed, dragon eyes, wolf eyes, lion eyes, swirling eyes, diamond eyes, one eye of peacock blue. I screamed again and clawed at the wood floor. I heard the screeching, felt the wood give beneath my claws.
Oh but I was bound to the earth. Dragon-sidhe but not entirely. Good enough to breed but not enough to fly. Earth-bound, Fire Queen of the Dragons. A joke, they must have laughed behind my back. Look at the silly human, pretending to be a Faerie Queen. All I'd have to do is let go, let my dragon rise and kill the others and I'd be fully dragon-sidhe. No problem, just a dead wolf. Just crazy cats. I'd be okay though, I'd be a true dragon-sidhe.
Another keening and this one didn't stop. It made me feel better, rocking and moaning, a lullaby to my broken mind. I shook my head against the floor and grabbed at it. Then something soft was under my fingers.
I clenched my hand and pulled it close. A blanket, nothing more, nothing to be scared of. I jerked the material, pulling it around me. Scents filled my nose; musk of cat, wolf, and lion. Home. Love. Safety. My body began to unclench. Then another soft thing was beneath my fingers. Squishy, a pillow. I pulled it in tight, hugging it before pushing it under my head. Another inhale with another scent. Clean, fresh, mountain air. This was husband, lover, savior. No, not husband. Not any more, that was another smell entirely. One of embers and oranges. I cried into the softness.
A bit of fabric touched my face and I snatched it. Someone's shirt, soft cotton worn with wear. I pressed it to my face and smelled vanilla orchids, delicate flowers. Heaven. Flight. Solace. Wings of feather instead of skin. A smile filled with kindness instead of cunning. Two sides of the same man or two different men? Which was which? Blood would tell. Just a little blood and I'd know. I bit at my finger, drawing a drop of blood out and then sucked on it.
More images, faster and faster. Faces of men above me. Faces of women covered in blood. Faces of monsters I loved. I moaned and clutched my hand to my chest. “Fur and feathers, scales and skin. Claws and teeth, beasts within,” I said in a familiar, sing-song cadence. My blood wasn't right, it mixed them up until I couldn't tell them apart.
No, not the right blood. Not right for knowledge, not right for flying, not right for sanity. A mish-mash, someone had said that. Someone who liked blood too. “Hearts and skin, bloody grins. Soulless eyes and fights to win,” I whispered as I rocked myself. Tired, I was so damn tired and I didn't know what I was anymore, who I loved, or what love was. Wasn't I the Goddess of Love? It was my job to know it. Certainly I should feel it but I think I felt too much.
Was love giving or taking? Was it a fleeting moment of bliss or an endless torment? Someone had told me love stories weren't all novels, some were poems. Roses are red, and blood is too. Lovers make vows, but they're untrue. Yes poetry, someone said that. Someone with sharp teeth.
“Too much love,” I whispered. “Bloody gloves. Where are they at? And where's my cat?”
Footsteps again and then a soft mewling. Whiskers on my face, so gentle a touch and yet it broke my heart. I reached a shaking hand out and stroked the soft head. Purring, a warm, furry body sliding in close to me. I sobbed, pushing my face into Nick's coat. He flopped over on his side, stretching out to get as much contact with me as possible.
“Nicky,” I cried, my tears wetting his fur. “A pure memory at last.”
Then there was music, something low and soothing. I let go of a little more tension. The purring and the song worked their magic. My sobs started to lessen and I was able to open my eyes. I blinked away tears and saw a beautiful but sad face lying on the floor in front of mine. He was just out of reach, his body stretched back to where I couldn't see it, and his eyes were soft and patient. He blinked them slowly at me, covering the deep blue for a moment and then revealing it again. Black hair poured around him, flowing out to an inch beyond my fingertips.
I stretched out a finger and stroked it. Silky, I knew that texture. I'd held it before, gripped it in passion, stroked it in love. Those eyes, filled with pain like mine, they reached me easier than his hands could have. I stared into them and saw understanding, sympathy, and anger. Another rock in my storm that I could cling to. I wound some hair around my fingers and pulled. He scooted a fraction of an inch closer but then just stopped and I closed my eyes as I raised the hair to my face.
A shuddering exhale left me as I fell into exhausted slumber.
Chapter Sixty
“She needs to eat,” the voice woke me and I instantly pushed away from it, burrowing back against the wall.
“Fine,” growling. “Give me food, now go avay.” A slam. Footsteps.
I was still on the floor, my body stiff, my cat gone. I still had my blanket, pillow, and T-shirt though and I bunched them all together so I could smell them again. Then the scent of food intruded and I saw a plate get placed on the floor and scooted beneath the table. My stomach rumbled.
I swiped a hunk of bread off the plate, butter coating my fingers as I shoved it into my mouth and ate lying down. A glass of water appeared next to the plate and I glared at it as I finished the bread. When it didn't move, or appear to be a trap, I cautiously edged my fingers toward it and grasped it gingerly. I pulled it back and lifted my head to drink deep.
The cold hit me, coating my throat and belly and offering an amount of relief. I sighed and pulled the plate closer. It was good, I ate it all without even knowing what I ate. It filled me with strength and helped clear my head a little but then I felt heavy, drowsy. I pushed it away and went back to sleep.
I don't know how long I slept. I wanted to sleep forever and every time I woke up, I just felt so tired. Images would accost me and I didn't, couldn't, deal with them yet. There was this ache in my chest and it felt like a hot ember surrounded by gunpowder, a guaranteed explosion. The only way I could keep it from igniting was to let this constant low moan out, the sound seemed to block my thoughts and keep the explosion at bay.
But they wouldn't stay away forever, the memories. The more I tried to ignore them, the more persistent they got. I started hearing voices, soft at first and then louder. They didn't even make sense, no flow to them at all, they'd just jump around. Fey voices mixing with gods, wolves, and lions.
“I will live from now until the end of time for you and your love. There's nothing else for me to live for anymore.”
I whimpered, holding my hands over my ears.
“So you clung to the memory of an angel instead of me?”
“This is just one twisted, fucked up mess, and I can't be a part of it anymore.”
“No,” I whispered. “You're tearing me apart.”
“Zere’s no ozer for me, no matter vat you say or do, you can not be replaced.”
“Kirill?” I sighed and felt a hand lightly touch mine.
“Your voice brought me from darkness, your eyes saw me for who I really vas, your touch healed, defended, and avenged me, and your kiss showed me vat love can be. I am yours forever.”
“Kirill, are you really here, are you talking to me?”
“Now I'm talking, Tima,” his gentle voice washed over me, a little stronger than the memory. “You ready for to come out now?”
“Okay,” I took his hand and he pulled me slowly from my hiding place.
He helped me stand, my legs were a little shaky. I stumbled over to the couch, still clutching the blanket, pillow, and T-shirt. I put the pillow on one end of the couch and laid down, bringing the blanket over my shoulders and the T-shirt to my face. The ache in my chest was a little smaller.
Kirill sat on the carpet in front of me, just within reach but not too close. I stared at him, his beautiful face with its sharp angles, softened by those blue eyes and thick lashes. He blinked slowly, hypnotizing almost, conveying calm and relaxing my body. I held out a hand and he took it gently, without a word.
