by H. D. Gordon
“I gave my word,” Sam said.
Her beautiful feline head tilted to the side. “Right… that and you knew my father would come after you if you didn’t. Couldn’t risk putting your beloved Sorceress in harm’s way.”
Sam did not miss the touch of jealousy in Mila’s tone, and he couldn’t really say he blamed her for it. He was her betrothed, after all, and had been long before he’d ever met Surah.
Mila hopped down from the tree limb on which she was perched, the powerful muscles in her legs catching her with ease, the pads on her paws landing silently on the jungle floor. Sam came forward, but paused when he saw the wariness in the green of her eyes. “I never meant to cause you pain, Mila,” he told her. It was a very Two-Leg thing to say, to admit to such regret, but Samson thought she deserved to hear it, and it was the truth. When he’d been a cub, he’d had every intention of honoring the marriage arranged between his father and hers… but life just hadn’t turned out that way.
“Who says you caused me pain?” she replied, ever the cat, willing to go to the death rather than admit to emotion.
Sam moved forward again, but did not stop this time. He came so close to her that their noses were nearly touching. When she did not move away, but instead held rigidly still, he rubbed against her soft side, his larger body pushing against her. He could hear her heartbeat pick up in her chest, and knew she was lying. It was odd, but he felt simultaneously glad and sad for this. He had indeed hurt her, and that meant that she really cared.
Mila pulled away at last, spinning around to face him. “How can you be so calm, so confident?” she asked, her tone taking on a snap that he suspected was there to cover the sudden harshness of her breathing. “Have you forgotten what our betrothal entails?”
Now it was Sam’s turn to grow slightly nervous, but he hid the emotion as well as any cat. “I have not forgotten,” he replied, and that was all. There really wasn’t anything else to say.
Silence hung between the two felines for a while, the only sounds that of the bugs and the breeze in the jungle. The sun was beginning to break over the horizon, the golden glow of early morning replacing the light blue paint of pre-dawn.
Mila broke the silence first. She sat back so that she could look him in the eyes. “Are you ready?” she asked. “I mean, do you think you can actually win?”
“Honestly, Mila, I don’t know.”
For another long moment, neither said anything. Then Sam swallowed, his tongue feeling a touch thick in his mouth, and asked the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to. “Do you want me to win, Mila?” he asked.
She said nothing for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. With a silent sigh and a small shake of her head, she met his gaze. “Honestly, Sam,” she said, “I don’t know.”
He considered her a moment before heading off again toward his destination. Mila fell in line silently behind him. Neither cat said another word. Sam could not stop replaying her response in his mind, though he supposed it was not the worst she could have given. After all, what had he expected her to say?
Samson had been promised to her at birth, and then he’d disappeared from the jungles with Surah, who’d saved his life and given him a new one. Mila had thought him dead for all these years, all these lifetimes that had passed between now and then. Then, out of the blue, he returns, asking for help in locating a woman he loves, the woman he’d essentially left her for. Now, he was all but being forced to return and fight Mila’s father to the death for the title of King of the Beasts, for Mila’s hand, for the position fate seemed hell-bent on seeing him in. So, really, what exactly had he been hoping she would say?
When they reached the edge of the clearing where the pride waited, Samson paused before stepping out of the cover of the trees. Mila stepped up beside him, staring out at the gathered Great Cats beyond with the same dread and anticipation that Sam felt in his own heart.
“No running away this time?” she asked, the slight break in her voice enough to make Sam’s stomach tighten.
He found he had to take a deep breath before answering, despite the fact that doing so required no air. “No running away this time,” he agreed. “How many suitors has your father defeated over the years?” He pulled his amber eyes away from the scene before him and looked at her now. “How many have fallen in my place?”
She hesitated, as if she was not sure she wanted to tell him. She could not meet his eyes when she said, “One hundred and thirteen.”
Though this number didn’t surprise him—there was a reason her father was called King of the Beasts—there was nothing Sam could do to stop the shiver that ran up his spine, from the hair on the back of his thick neck from standing on edge.
He took one more deep breath, nudging Mila with his nose, forcing her to look up at him. Cats did not cry the way Two-Legs did, but one would have to be blind to miss the heartache in the green of her eyes. Either way, she would lose someone she loved on this day.
Sam licked her face, catching her off-guard with the intimacy of the act, and taking a small rejoice in the fact that though he’d surprised her, she hadn’t pulled away from his affection. He made sure to hold her gaze when he told her, “No matter what happens next, Mila, either way, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can forgive me for all of it.”
Now the pain on her face was almost too much to look at, but her voice was strong like the Great Cat she was when she said, “If you could… even now… you’d still return to her… wouldn’t you? You’d still choose her over all of this.”
Samson stood looking at her, but found he could not bear it much longer. With one last lick to her cheek, which Mila sighed and leaned into, he turned on his heels and exited the trees, head held high as he went to face his fate, Mila’s question to him answered in his unanswering.
Before the sun set on this day, Samson would either take his place as the King of Beasts, or die trying.
CHAPTER 21
SURAH
Surah came to the nearly immediate conclusion that she could trust the girl, so sudden, so surely, that she questioned the feeling just for its oddity. It was true that the new Sorceress Queen had a knack for being able to detect lies from most people, and her gut instincts most often did not prove her wrong, but the very fact that the Halfling girl was so intensely disarming intrigued her. In all her years, she’d never met a Fae/Human Halfling before. She’d met Halfling Wolves and Vamps, Halfling Witches and plenty of Halfling Sorcerers, but never anyone like Aria. The girl had a way about her that just made one want to like her.
Surah told her as much, not seeing the need to mince words.
The girl waved a hand with short, red-painted fingernails, a gesture Surah suspected she didn’t realize was humble. “That’s part of being half Fae,” she said. “Apparently I’ve got some sort of draw.” She rolled her vibrant eyes. “Believe me when I tell you it can be as much a curse as it is a blessing.”
“I do believe you,” Surah said, and paused, watching the girl closely. “At a time when I should be believing hardly anyone, I believe you… That’s part of this ‘draw’ you have?”
Aria shrugged, her signature grin pulling up her lips. “I guess I just have one of those faces. And on top of that, you really can trust me. My only agenda here is the objective I’ve been given by my superiors. Keep you both alive and ensure that you kill the Fae Queen and,” she paused, her eyes switching to Charlie, “and her accomplices.”
By the look on his face, Surah could tell this was the first Charlie had heard of this. “You mean my brother,” he said. It was not a question.
Again, the girl shrugged. To her credit, she met Charlie’s stare dead-on when she said her next words. “If it comes to that, yes,” she said. “But the Dark Sorcerer is hardly our biggest concern at the moment. The Dark Lord he’s consulting with? Now, there’s our biggest problem.” Her gaze went to Surah now, who had not taken her violet eyes from Aria. “We can’t have Demons runnin
g free in the Territories. The balance of things is already tipping. People of all races are concerned. That includes the Peace Brokers.”
Surah thought the girl said this in a way that was nearly recited, as though it was something she’d heard so many times that she truly believed in it. She’d had a few dealings with Peace Brokers over the years, but not much. They were a very elite organization whose only purpose was to maintain the peace among the races. The Peace Brokers were created nearly one thousand years ago, as a part of The Great Compromise. Halflings of every race made up their ranks, and their movements and activities were clandestine, to say the least. It was rare that they got noticeably involved in things, but only a fool would think they weren’t present in one form or another for most of the happenings in the supernatural world.
That was about the extent of her knowledge concerning the Peace Brokers. Sorcerers were notorious for keeping to their own kind, and staying out of the dealings of other supernaturals, so dealings with them had never been necessary. Surah tilted her head back a touch. “I’m aware that Demons aren’t good for business,” she said. “You can assure your people that I’m going to take care of it.”
Aria sat back on the couch, her legs folded beneath her. She nodded at Surah, her eyes going to her rich cloak, which felt horribly out of place in this world. “Is that why you’re carrying the Black Stone?” the girl asked.
This surprised Surah, and her eyebrows shot up at the same time as her eyes narrowed. Charlie was deadly still beside her. “How do you know I’m carrying the Black Stone?”
Aria closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “I can feel it,” she said, exhaling slowly. Her eyes opened, and there was such understanding there that Surah once again felt disarmed. “It’s part of being what I am. I’m always aware of the emotions of all the life around me.” Her green eyes began to fill with moisture, and she closed them tight and took another deep breath. “Miles away from here a forest is burning, and if I listen hard enough, I can hear the trees screaming as they burn.” Her eyes popped open, and she smiled a smile that was just bound to break hearts. “But that’s neither here nor there. I think it’s wise that you’re taking the Stone with you.”
Surah’s eyebrow quirked, and though there were dark feelings stirring in her, she could not be critical of this child. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for Aria, at how lonely the girl must be, living with one foot in this world, and one foot in the others, not quite fitting here, and not quite fitting there. Living alone in this small apartment, brokering peace while writing essays to be graded by a human teacher. Following orders. Playing her part in a game she’d been born to play, though had probably never agreed to.
“I’m glad you approve,” Surah told her, and for a moment, the darkness in her seemed to subside, the light of this young Halfling girl chasing it away. Surah took Charlie’s hand in hers. “Thank you for your help, Aria.”
The girl gave a small smile and the room lit up as if with sunlight. “You’re welcome, your majesty,” she said, with a bow of her head. “And for what it’s worth, I really hope everything turns out right for you two.” Her cheeks grew slightly pink, and she added, “I’ve been following your story, just like, in notes and updates passed down from my superiors, and I think what you two have is amazing… I want your love to win, to rearrange the stars, if that’s what it takes.”
Surah did not know what to say to this, and apparently Charlie didn’t know what to say to any of this, because neither said a word. Aria’s cheeks bloomed even more roses with their silence. She cleared her throat and added, “I’m sorry. Like I told your boyfriend, most of my job is just sitting around and going through the motions of human life while I await orders. Rescuing Charlie here is the most exciting thing they’ve had me do so far, and that was only because the person above me—”
She cut off abruptly, letting out another deep breath and forcing away unwanted thoughts Surah could only guess at. Surah let the subject drop. She had places to go, people to see, and a couple more questions she’d like answered.
“So what did your people tell you to do next?” she asked. “How do they intend to help stop Tristell?”
Aria’s shoulders lifted once and fell. “Wish I could tell you, but in all honesty, what I suspect is, they don’t intend to help you any further. My orders were only to save the fugitive Sorcerer and keep him safe until the Sorceress Queen retrieved him.”
“But I thought you just said you were going to help us.”
Aria nodded. “And I am. But not because the Peace Brokers have ordered it.” A darkness swirled behind the girl’s eyes that Surah recognized well. It was the look of someone who has a personal stake in matters. She’d seen it most recently in her own reflection in the mirror.
“I see,” Surah said, considering the girl. She may not know much about the Peace Brokers, but what she did know suggested that what Aria was saying could get her in trouble. She said as much to Aria.
Again, Aria waved her hand, but just under that tough façade Surah also recognized so well, she could see that this was a concern Aria was well aware of. “Some things are worth getting in trouble for,” was all she said.
Silence fell in the small living room, and Surah couldn’t help but feel for this girl in a way that was something like motherly. Aria reminded her so much of herself, and she remembered that not long ago she had jumped into a fight that was not her own because of a personal stake. That fight had been a civil war within the Territories of the Vampires and the Wolves, and the person she’d come after had been Alexa Montgomery. The King of the Vampires and Wolves had convinced Surah that Alexa was responsible for her brother’s death, and Surah had gone in headfirst and challenged the young Sun Warrior to a fight. Had Alexa’s Accursed sister not stepped in, Surah would likely have been dead, because while Surah was a hell of a warrior, a Sun Warrior was the warrior of all warriors. Everyone knew this. But grief and vengeance had a way of blinding one to things like this, the same way Aria was clearly blinded by whatever debt she had to settle with Tristell the Fae Queen.
Once Surah had figured out it was actually King William who was responsible for Syris’ death, she’d told Alexa that she would kill the King of Vampires and Wolves, and the young Sun Warrior had smirked and pretty much told her that she could just get in line. And then there was the night in the Silver City, where she’d witnessed a civil war between two of the most physically brutal races in all the realms, and also her vengeance exacted by the Sun Warrior.
She chose her next words carefully, scooting forward on the couch and taking Aria’s hands into her own with a motherly gentleness. Aria’s gaze was guarded, but she did not pull away.
“Aria,” Surah said slowly, “Tell your people that the Dark Lord will be dealt with, that I intend to deal with him personally… And you can rest assured that Tristell will suffer for everything she’s done.”
Aria swallowed hard before she could speak, and even then her soft voice came out a whisper. “You don’t understand,” she said.
Surah squeezed the girl’s hands gently, completely sure of being able to trust the Halfling now that they’d made contact. It was a funny sensation, touching Aria, because Surah had a gift of being about to tell when people were lying, and Aria had a gift for sensing true emotions. In truth, these two abilities were not far from each other, despite being gifts of their separate races. It was something akin to Soul Searching, and while holding hands, it was as if the two were staring into that of the other.
All things come from one, Surah remembered her mother telling her so long ago that it seemed only a dream now.
“I do,” Surah said. “I do understand. I’ve lived nearly a thousand years, sweet child, and I do understand. I can see the good in you, same as you can feel the darkness in me. I would rather you keep the light in you untainted for as long as possible, as inevitable as the darkness may be.”
Aria said nothing, only stared at Surah with wide, conflicted eyes. Her voice was hardly ab
ove a whisper now, and there was such pain in it when she spoke that the fractured pieces of Surah’s hardening heart gave a little squeeze. “But… she has to pay,” Aria said. “For what she’s done, she has to pay.”
Surah nodded. “And she will, Aria. You can look at me now and know that she will… Tell me, what do the Peace Brokers do with those who don’t follow orders?”
The girl’s face darkened, and her eyes went distant, as if recalling a nightmare, or maybe the story of a boogey man she’d been told of over and over as a child. Instead of answering this, she only shook her head, her long red-brown hair rippling over her shoulders.
Surah gave another nod. “Trust me when I tell you it doesn’t matter who does the killing, as long as the killing gets done.” She held Aria’s gaze with a strength that was impossible to deny. “So let me be the one to do the killing this time. If you live long enough, there will come a time when you’ll have to be the one to do it… but that time is not now.”
Same as killing King William had not been mine, Surah thought, and could tell by the resignation that fell over the girl’s face that she understood, though it did not help ease the pain that was in her.
“I knew I’d like you,” Aria said, her eyes flipping between Charlie and Surah. “Who doesn’t route for the star-crossed lovers?” Her lips pulled up in a half smile, but the sadness reigned in the green of her eyes. She took one last deep breath, giving Surah’s hand a squeeze. “Go, then, Queen Surah Stormsong, last of her name. Go and see the Dark Lord and gain back control of your kingdom. I’ll sit here and await word of your tale… I’ve gotten pretty good at waiting.”
Surah nodded, but when she went to pull back from Aria, the girl kept tight hold of her hands. That swirling darkness was back behind her eyes. “You have to cut off her wings,” Aria said. “They hold the power, the privilege of the power she’s abusing.”
