by Deanna Chase
Welcome sleep overtook her.
When Kira opened her eyes next, full daylight was hitting her eyes, and her wince against the light was quick and total. “Morning,” a familiar voice said softly behind her.
She didn’t say anything back. She snuggled into the arms and stayed silent. Talking meant acknowledging, and she wasn’t ready to do that yet.
“I’ll confront my father.”
“No.” No, Seth was absolutely not allowed to confront the king. That was a non-negotiable.
He stroked her arms, the light touch of his fingers apparent even through the fabric of her shirt. “Do you hate me?”
The self-loathing in Seth’s tone startled her and she turned to him. “How can you think that?”
“My father said you were to be my companion. Somehow your being here is connected to me.”
Kira took his face in her hands. His warm blue eyes were so full of concern for her that it helped melt some of the ice surrounding her own feelings.
She took a deep, cleansing breath. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll never regret us. Nothing in this world is powerful enough to make me feel that.”
Relief etched itself across his features. “I hate that you’re hurting, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
There was no response to that. It was the truth, but she was still too raw to continue with the conversation. Instead Kira burrowed into Seth’s chest and wrapped her arms around him, while his strong arms circled her and cuddled her close.
She fell asleep again, and the next time her eyes opened the sun was high overhead. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Seth gave a soft snort, not bothering to look down at her or stop combing his fingers through her hair. “About what?”
“You can’t be comfortable.”
“Don’t care as long as you are.”
He was so perfect. Why was he so perfect? He was her heart made free outside her body, and she would never be able to reclaim it.
No father, no lover, all alone, to always be on the outside looking in.
“Stop.” His breathy whisper floated past her ear. “You can’t do that.”
How did he always know what she was thinking?
“You’re very easy to read.”
“Well, all-knowing one, what do I do?”
He chuffed at her snarky tone and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “Do you hate him?”
She shrugged, snuggling back into his chest. “I will later, I think, at least a little bit. I can’t now. I can’t feel anything more now.”
“Yeah.” He drew long patterns on her arm, his thinking gesture. “I’ll hate them enough for both of us.”
***
“He told me how to break the curse.”
They were walking back toward the castle, and Kira tripped over her feet, stumbling enough that Seth held out his hands to steady her, though the gesture was ultimately unnecessary. After she regained her dignity she looked at him, her eyebrows drawn so tightly together the two became one. “You mean my – Taren told you? How? Why didn’t he ever mention this before?”
“He said he didn’t know until now.” It had been so suspicious, how suddenly Taren knew. A mysterious visitor came and told him, the same one who advised him that he should tell Kira of her origins, but he refused to divulge who the visitor was.
It was suspicious, and with anyone else, Seth would have the person investigated to see if she or he was somehow connected to the curse. But this was Taren, and the stunning revelations of the night before aside, the man had always been a true and trusted ally. Even the weight of last night’s disclosures had the crush of hopeful expectation and not malignant intentions.
“But he didn’t say who told him?” At Seth’s headshake she sighed. “He always was stubborn if he felt he was in the right. Well then, how do we end this?”
“We?” Seth hadn’t meant it to be so sharp, and all hope it wasn’t as bad as he feared was dashed when Kira’s brows straightened out into two separate arches, one of those arches rising high while her hands came to rest on her hips. He rushed on, trying to fix the mess. “You’ve had enough surprises. You don’t need to follow me while I take care of this.”
And I can’t have you near me while I’m forced to carry out my duty. He closed his eyes and pressed hard against his forehead with the heel of his hand. He shouldn’t have to deal with this. He was giving her up, wasn’t he? He was doing what he’d said he would do. Why torture himself more, by making her stay by his side while he had to do this?
It would be torture. The sweetest torture, just like last night. He didn’t sleep a minute, couldn’t waste such a rare gift. She had been pressed against him, the curves of her body fitting him in perfect symmetry. He had breathed in her scent all night, twisted the soft strands of her hair between his fingers, marveling how the slight curliness of her hair meant the red mass didn’t easily let go of his fingers.
It would be torture, and if he had too many nights of such torture, his promise would be in jeopardy.
Kira frowned. “Yes, we. I have been with you for every step of this, and I’m not about to stop now, the situation of my non-father father be damned! Do you think you’re going to walk into danger without me near you? I protect you – that’s what I do – and you will not send me away.”
Her hands were no longer on her hips. They were clenched fists at her sides, while long tendons in her neck became prominent. Her eyes were the storm-soaked green of the forest, rustling and shifting beneath a howling wind.
She was his protector, his companion, and he could not stop her from joining him. He could not stop her because the only way to stop her was to tell her that he was in danger of crossing the final line that would result in loving her.
And if he told her that, if he gave voice to the deepest murmurs of his heart, then the action of making it real, giving it substance, would make it happen. His heart would be hers. He would be helplessly in love with her and only her.
And Rosamund would be damned.
“Fine.”
Her glare intensified for a few moments until his reply penetrated her brain, and her face and body deflated, becoming confused. “No more arguing?”
“None. You’re right. You’re much better with a sword than I am.” He started toward his room, not bothering to look back since there was no question she would follow.
Sure enough, within three strides she was beside him again. “How do we break this curse?”
“I need to marry Rosamund and have our first kiss. If I do that before the curse takes effect, it never will.”
If it had been anyone but Taren who told him the way to reverse the curse, Seth would never have believed it. It couldn’t be that simple. All the pain, Rosamund’s torture, and it was over like that?
Kira’s features tightened, a hardening of her jaw and gaze, but she shook off whatever thoughts invaded and smoothed out her features before she answered. “That can’t be. Your father and King Matthias would have had a proxy wedding a long time ago if that was the answer. We have to be missing something.”
The air was chilly today, and Seth pulled his coat a little closer. A storm was brewing, and with the talk of magic and curses, his mind took a fanciful bent. Bad omen, bad omen, bad omen. “Taren couldn’t say if they knew or not. His source wouldn’t give him that information.”
“And we trust this mysterious source enough we upend our lives on nothing but their word?”
A crow cawed in the distance. The murder answered. Bad Omen. “Your father obviously thought so.”
Kira looked down. With the toe of her boot she crushed blades of grass into the ground, meticulous with her choices. “Which means we do what?”
“Do you think my father really wishes me married?” The answer would be so simple if that one question didn’t exist. When it came to the subject of his marriage, the choices his father made were unpredictable. Seth couldn’t get a handle on what the king desired.
> The boot paused in its meticulous destruction of the surrounding grass. “I don’t know.” Kira’s voice mirrored his thoughts. “Your engagement makes no sense.”
“My father’s actions make no sense,” Seth corrected. Maybe if they had a warmer relationship he could ask why. Why the whiplash decisions and quixotic behavior? But even at their best, Seth could never claim he and his father were close, and these days they were far, far from their best.
Kira finally looked up at him again. Her eyes were tired, lines grooved into the corners and underneath. He reached up and ran a thumb underneath her eye, as though he could wipe away all the stress and worry of these last hours. His already battered heart shuddered yet again in denied yearning, because he couldn’t chance wrapping her in his arms, not again. He could only stand still as she took a small measure of cold comfort from the brush of his hand.
She smiled her thanks, a smile he didn’t deserve but he squirreled away to reside with all his memories of her. She spoke. “Why bring up your father’s actions now?”
“If I could trust him, I’d go to him now with this information. We would ride to Tolshire and Rosamund and I would marry straight away. We could ask about your… real…family.”
Seth trailed off, for one of the few times in his life unsure about how to talk to Kira. This was a situation he could never have foreseen.
Kira cleared her throat, swallowed hard, but she didn’t go back to her emotional reaction of earlier. Instead, she brought herself up to her full height, her chin angled in a dare. “My real family doesn’t matter, and I wouldn’t trust any answers your father gave even if they did.” Her posture went from provocative to empathetic, her eyes softening as she kept her gaze on Seth. “We can’t trust your father, can we? That’s what you were saying. We can’t trust him to take care of you, of us. We’re tools to him, and he’ll turn us around and inside out if that’s what it takes to accomplish his goals. He’ll sacrifice you if he must. That’s what you think. That’s why we didn’t go straight to him after hearing Taren’s words.”
“Am I wrong?” He hated the begging tone he heard in his voice. He was a man, not a boy desperate for his father’s approval.
Kira shook her head, breaking off their gaze and staring at the ground, her face drawn and pinched against her own tears. The burning inside Seth’s chest was a surprise. Odd, odd that. Nothing about his father should have shocked him. In fact, he was the one who told her. She only reaffirmed his own thoughts. Odd.
Kira’s cold fingers wrapped around his own frozen hand.
Cold over cold.
Chapter Six
The rock against his window was their signal, and Seth was ready. The bag held essentials—change of clothing, money, and a little food. Nothing more, as traveling light was a necessity.
Kira waited for him at the bottom. His feet barely touched ground when she grabbed his hand and started running past Taren’s house, to a section of woods that they often played in when they were children. Two horses awaited them, and within minutes they were seated and off.
They rode in silence, rode hard throughout the night. Their stops would have to be infrequent and they would need to go as fast as their horses would permit.
Kira had their route planned. She had to avoid the people evacuating from Tolshire, out of fear Seth’s father would have guards posted along the way, but they could chance stopping in some small towns once they passed the border.
Their first major stop was only a short ride past the border right before sunset. Kira originally planned to stop farther along, but Seth’s horse was past drained, and if they kept pushing him, Seth feared hurting the steed.
“Ow,” Kira cried, rubbing her wrist. She had been doing that often lately, touching her wrist, but this was the first time a cry of pain accompanied the act.
“What’s wrong?” Seth came over to see, grabbed her arm even as she shook her head at him.
Her birthmark was red and inflamed. “What happened?” If it was infected, they needed to turn back now and get to healers.
“Nothing is wrong. I’m not sure what’s happening. It’s been…uncomfortable lately, and I don’t know why.”
As he watched, the little mark on her skin got redder, and Kira gave an indrawn breath in response. “Kira, we need to go back—”
“What do we have here?’
Seth whipped his head around to look for the owner of the voice—high-pitched with malignant glee almost dripping from the words. Seth’s eyes focused on a man who fit the image the voice created. Reed-thin with almost reptilian features, the man’s smile chilled him to his core.
Kira stepped in front of Seth, her hand coming to her sword. “What we have here is none of your concern, and as we do not wish to share our camp, you can leave.”
“But I want to stay.” The S in his speech emphasized the lizard comparison, as did the fluid, rolling motions of his body as he moved. “This is so interesting. The betrothed of the cursed princess, in front of me.”
Kira drew her sword and pointed it at the man. “On your knees,” she said. That voice Seth knew, and if it were him, he’d have hit the ground without another word.
The stranger didn’t have the same sense of self-preservation. He smiled, teeth glittering in the dying light. He drew his own weapon and attacked.
The man’s movement was so fast that Seth wouldn’t have been able to parry, but Kira met his blade and deflected it, throwing the man off balance. The man righted himself in an instant, but the moment before he raised his sword to meet Kira’s swing, Seth saw shock plain as day line the man’s features.
Seth drew his own weapon and stepped back to give Kira enough room to maneuver. His own ego needed to be kept in check, as did his worry. Kira was the stronger fighter, her movements sharp and precise, her blade always finding her opponent’s unprotected spots. Entering the fight now would only put Kira in danger because she would be focused on him and not herself. He needed to stay put unless there was a clear reason to interfere.
Once again Kira’s sword was deflected, but this time she kicked out and hit the man’s knee. He crumpled but rolled away and righted himself in time to block Kira’s downstroke. He threw her far enough away that he was able to get on his feet before she could attack again.
The man was good. He was as good as Taren, and against anyone but Kira, he would have won the match quickly. He lunged at her, but Kira was prepared. She spun on her heel so that the man stepped past her and as her spin ended, she was at his unprotected back. She thrust her sword through his shoulder.
A shrieking cry tore through the clearing, so sharp and horrific that Seth dropped his weapon to clutch his hands over his ears in a vain attempt to block the sound. Through the pain he focused on Kira. The sound didn’t affect her as it did him. She stood still, watching the man who was now on the ground, his hand clasping his wounded shoulder.
The shoulder that gushed green blood.
“Fairy-marked!” the man spat. No, not a man. He was a fairy, or fey, or somehow connected to the world of magic. The world they were now fighting against to save Rosamund. “Who are you?”
Kira’s face held traces of shellshock, but her voice was even as she answered. “I protect him, and if you come against him, you answer to me.”
The fey stood, the skin knitting before their eyes. “Think you so special now? Fairy-marked or not, you are nothing but a weak human. I know him, and once I know you, I’ll destroy you both.”
Seth spoke then. “Why are you after us?”
The shock the fey had experienced was now past—that, or he had schooled himself to hide it away. “If my master curses a princess, he does not wish a mortal fool to try to change that circumstance.”
Seth stepped forward, fists clenched, but Kira’s hand on his arm stopped him. She stared him down and said, “Tell your master to cut his losses and move on now, because nothing will stop us from saving her.”
“So you say, girl, so you say. But just remember—
” and the fey stepped back into the woods, with every move becoming more insubstantial, before finally disappearing before their eyes. “Fairies may have blessed you, but they are not allowed to fight for you. When the time comes, it will be you and me, and I—”
The last sight was his sharp, glittering teeth.
“—never lose.”
Chapter Seven
Their sleeping bags were rolled out in front of the fire. Kira had found a nice cave to stay in for the night. Perfectly situated, dry, and creature free, it was a lucky find on a night they misjudged the distance to the next town.
“Should we keep watch?” he asked as he got the fire going.
Kira shook her head. “I’ve set up an alarm system to tell us if a wandering creature comes by. As for the other-” Her mouth turned down enough it resembled an ‘n’. He didn’t think it was possible for a mouth to do that naturally. “What good would alarms do against magic? The only hope is that my birthmark warns us again.”
She didn’t look at the little mark on her wrist, but he could see the effort it took not to. Since the encounter with the fey, he often saw her touching the birthmark, poking at it as if she expected it to jump at her in return.
He hated how it was consuming her. This small mark didn’t define her – it never had and it wouldn’t now. All her talents, her fire-forged will and brilliant mind, none of them hinged around this collection of black lines.
Seth wrapped his hand around her wrist, the birthmark now obscured by his hand. “I have every faith in you, mark or not.”
She exhaled, her body relaxing under his touch. With her free hand she traced the veins in his hand, following the faint blue lines where they led.
The fire crackled beside them, the smell of the burning wood wafting in the air. Firelight suited Kira’s red hair and pale skin and made her seem to glow from within.
Where her fingertips trailed, his skin heated. He flipped his wrist to trap her hand with his, but it didn’t stop the warmth from where skin met skin.
She leaned into him, nuzzled the sensitive skin between his below his ear. Her breath was as warm as the rest of her as it caressed his skin.
