by H. D. Gordon
He was so stunned by this insight that his head felt as though it might explode, having just received an overload of very curious information.
It was a terrifying thought, to think of not being able to access magic, as it was something that literally resided in his blood, and the blood of all Sorcerers and Sorceresses.
Though there were other pretty major differences between them and humans, such as lifespan and slight physical dissimilarities, magic was the thing that really separated the two. To think of that going away was… Well, it was unthinkable. It was like asking a Vampire not to drink blood, or a Werewolf not to turn into its Wolf form.
But, she had a point, didn’t she? His kind would be lost without their magic, and those most greatly affected would be the Highborns. Commoners only learned the most basic of magic, and most went about their lives using it sparingly and only when necessary. Their eyes would bulge out of their heads if they knew the royals used magic for everything from opening doors to teleportation to party tricks. If that was suddenly taken away from them…
He grabbed her wrists, and she sat up and looked at him, giving his neck a small lick before rising.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “Getting rid of magic forever?”
Even saying those words felt like blasphemy, like a half-casted curse.
The Fae Queen giggled and shook her head, her eyes glittering. She playfully slapped his wide chest. “Of course not, silly! Your kind would be hardly better than humans without their magic!”
He cringed at this; it was an echo of his thoughts. She smiled down at him and settled herself more comfortably on his lap, making his mind lose track of the conversation for a minute. Sometimes he wondered if that was her intention.
She leaned forward again, her lips returning to his ear. “I’m talking about a temporary disabling of the magic. Just enough time for a determined person to… Oh, I don’t know, kill a king and a princess and find his way to an empty throne.”
His hold on her wrists tightened, and she sat up again and grinned down at him.
“You know of a way to accomplish this, Tris?” he asked. His emerald eyes narrowed and he heard her growl lowly in her throat. “This better not be one of your games. Is something like that even possible?”
A small part of him almost wished she would say no, and tell him that it really was a joke. It was just so hard to swallow the idea of a magic-less world for his kind, even if it would be temporary.
Then, he thought of how the princess had foiled his hard-made plans, about how the royals had let his parents die so many years ago when their world was under attack by the other races. He thought about how he and Charlie had to run from place to place as children, begging and stealing food, never knowing the next time they’d see a warm bed or a hot shower. Two children left to die while the royals had cowered in their castles and used their hoarded magic to open doors and put on party tricks and protect their precious, Highborn children.
He thought about Charlie. He thought about how Charlie had betrayed him. And that hurt most of all, more than all the hurt he’d ever had in his life.
The idea that Charlie would be more loyal to a pretty face and royal position than he was to his own brother, it was almost too much to bear.
And it was all her fault. It had always been her for Charlie, and now Michael could not deny it. He hated the princess for stealing his brother from him. He hated her most of all. She already had everything—power, money, the best of magic—she didn’t need Charlie, too.
In the grand scheme of things, Charlie had been the only thing Michael really had. And Surah Stormsong had stolen that from him. She’d just earned herself the top spot on his hit list, and everyone who’d made that spot would testify to its effectiveness—if the dead could speak.
So when the Fae Queen licked his ear and answered his question, a large grin formed on his lips.
She said, “Oh, Michael. My silly, silly Michael. Anything is possible.”
He flipped her onto her back and hiked her dress up, giving her a hard kiss that was half-passion, half-anger.
“Then tell me all about it, my love,” he said. “After.”
She giggled as he smothered her in kisses and removed her dress. Her slanted eyes stared at the canopy of colorful trees and chirped words from behind a grin of sharp teeth.
“Yes! After! Princesses to kill and kingdoms to steal! After…”
Chapter 5
Surah
They sat in the cabin—him on the bench, and her on the bed—in uncomfortable silence.
I can’t let you risk everything for me.
I already have.
It was true. Things had gone too far and there was no turning back. She looked at his face now and saw he knew it, too.
He knew it and he looked…guilty for it. Anger boiled up in her then, and she wasn’t sure if it was all for him, or for the universe, but she grabbed hold of it and sank her teeth in.
She had always been a very straight shooter, and things were already messed up enough without him confusing her with his mixed signals. What did he have to feel guilty about? He’d sworn he’d had nothing to do with his brother’s schemes, that he’d just been dragged into a horrible situation, so why the guilt? Why go to the trouble of saving her, of betraying his brother for her, of kissing her as if the world depended on it, just to pull the rug out from under her now?
Surah decided that since things couldn’t get much worse, she wasn’t going to take this from him.
She swung her legs over the bed and stood, leaving her cloak where it lay and the weapons tucked inside it. He looked up as she walked over to him, her boots clicking on the hard floor with each determined step.
His eyes narrowed just a touch, making them appear darker than usual as they moved slowly up her, and his jaw clenched. She ignored the way this made her stomach flip, and stopped only when she was about a foot away, looking down at him where he sat on the old wooden bench, leaning against the wall.
Charlie tilted his head back and looked up at her. She had to stop a smile from coming to her lips when she saw his hands were clenched into fists, because no matter what he said, it was as difficult for him not to touch her as it was for her not to touch him. He could make his mouth tell her to leave, but he couldn’t keep his body from reacting to her.
Or at least, she hoped. The thought of having overestimated his affection was too unpleasant. She waited for a moment to see if he would break, but he held his position and his peace, saying and doing nothing.
Surah had to give him this, he had an incredible poker face and an annoying stubbornness about him.
Or maybe he just needed better motivation.
Before she could lose the nerve, Surah placed her hands on his wide shoulders. She could swear she felt them tense under her fingers, though the expression on his face still hadn’t shifted.
A small smile formed on her lips when he didn’t take her hands away. She closed the distance, climbing atop his lap.
Now, she was positive his body tensed, because hers tensed, as well.
His hands stayed tucked at his sides, but it was as though she could feel him all around her. His body was strong and warm under her, the clean smell of him filling her senses. Her hand traveled down to his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat there, steady but rapid. Some part of her brain was screaming at her to stop what she was doing, because ladies of her status did not behave in such a way.
But it was only a small part. Certainly not big enough to overpower the other part of her, the part that was demanding she stay right where she was, if only to see if his body would betray his true feelings.
Somehow, it seemed imminent that she know just what they were.
She watched as his eyes went to her lips and stayed there, and she ran her tongue out and smiled when his gaze all but smoldered.
Still, he made no move to touch her. A little uncertainty struck her, but she ignored it and stayed put. She concentrated on t
he way she felt for him and refused—at least for this moment—to believe her feelings were one-sided.
Gathering her courage around her, she took a deep breath, thinking if what she did next yielded no reaction from him, she would give up and accept that she had misinterpreted things. She leaned in and placed a small kiss on his warm neck…
Then another… and another.
His reaction was instantaneous.
His hands came up and encircled her small waist, crushing her to him with his strong arms. He buried his face in her hair, pushing it off her neck and making a shiver run from her toes up to the top of her head.
She felt his lips skim the tender skin there, making goose bumps break out all over her. She was aware that her breath was coming in small gasps, but was helpless to do anything to stop it. Her hands found their way into his thick hair, and her fingers held onto it as if she could be ripped away from him at any moment.
In reality, she supposed that was so.
But with Charlie so near her, holding her in his arms and inhaling deeply against her neck, making her chest feel as though it were blooming, as if she were filling up from the inside, reality held little meaning.
She breathed the scent of him in deeply, which was a mixture of forest and soap. It was strange how quickly a scent could become familiar, how quickly his arms around her had become familiar.
Maybe they didn’t know each other’s pasts, maybe they hardly knew each other at all, maybe the stars were aligned against them, but there was one thing for certain amongst the sea of uncertainty she had found herself adrift in.
Their bodies fit well together, and a wise Warlock had once told her that a body is just the outline of the soul.
“What are you doing, Surah?” Charlie asked, his deep voice muffled against her skin, pulsing heat where he touched her, the struggle in it evident, even with her blood rushing in her ears.
She gave a raspy laugh, but it was cut short when she felt his warm tongue flick out and graze her skin. His arms tightened almost painfully around her, and it became difficult to breathe, but it was a somehow pleasant sensation, so she didn’t mind. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and held his lips against her.
He kissed her gently at first, and then between one heartbeat and the next, his lips found hers.
When that happened, all thoughts and reason left Surah’s head; all doubt and fear and suspicion were carried away as if on a phantom wind.
She felt so much passion radiating between the two of them that it was irrelevant that she was a princess and he was a commoner, or that they were defying countless people by being together. It seemed unimportant that their lives were on the line and all the stars were crossed against them. When he kissed her this way, all that existed was Charlie.
Just Surah and Charlie.
When he pulled back from her, she almost felt like crying out at the loss of him, though she told herself it had more to do with the whole situation, as Surah was not the crying type.
Still, it felt like having the covers pulled away on a cold morning, or the fire going out on a cold night. Maybe they weren’t in love yet, but if they spent too much more time together, they would be. She was somehow certain of this, and it was more disconcerting than she wished it would be.
She was falling. Plain and simple.
Without warning, Charlie lifted her up easily and hoisted her over his shoulder, holding her tightly around her thighs and waist. Surah was so caught off guard by this that she couldn’t even think to protest. He carried her over to the bed and set her down gently, sitting down beside her and pulling off her black boots in two swift motions.
Her jaw was practically hanging on the mattress as she looked up at him, stunned at what he’d just done. No one had ever been so bold with her as to scoop her up in their arms. Her forwardness with him was one thing, but Charlie Redmine acted as though he either had no idea she was a princess, or didn’t care, and it never failed to surprise her.
One side of his mouth pulled up as he took in her expression, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and found it amusing.
Surah snapped her mouth shut and tried to smooth out her expression. She could feel her face heating up, surely causing roses to bloom on her porcelain cheeks. She looked down at her hands and shivered when Charlie reached up and brushed a lavender curl behind her ear.
“How long has it been since you slept?” he asked, as if his sudden interruption of their previous activity needed no explanation.
For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. She could do nothing but sit there and stare at his beautiful face. The fine line of his jaw. The curve of his lips. The heat that radiated from his jewel-colored eyes. She swallowed and tried not to concentrate on how fast her heart was beating.
How long since she’d slept? She couldn’t seem to remember. Night had just fallen when she had gone to the dungeons to see him, and now the light of a new day was out in full force.
“A while,” she said.
Charlie put his strong hands on the small of her back, sending more heat all the way through to her already flipping stomach, and laid her down gently on the pillow.
His body was close to hers in several places, and she was hyper-aware of every one of them. She couldn’t help but take note of the hard weight of him as he kissed her forehead and pulled back to look down at her. She was pretty sure her heart was either beating too fast to register, or had stopped altogether.
“Then you should sleep now,” he said. “Well rested heads make better choices.”
Surah ran her tongue over her lips, more warmth blooming in her when his eyes went down to her mouth. She had not a clue how she was supposed to respond to that. How was it that everything he said either aggravated or confused her, and yet when he spoke she hung from his words the way the moon hangs in the sky?
She felt her chest rising and falling but couldn’t seem to get any of the air it was pulling in.
“I don’t think I can sleep now,” she managed. She didn’t feel the need to add not after that, because the words seemed to be hanging in the air.
He sat back and rubbed a hand down his jaw. Surah recognized this as a habit of his when he was struggling with something. At least she wasn’t the only one. She wondered more than ever what he was thinking right now. Because if it was anything like she was thinking, they were both in trouble as sure as fish were in water.
When Charlie stood from the bed and crossed the room, leaving her to stare after him, she deflated a little, but part of her was relieved. What would she have done if he had tried something beyond kissing her just then? Pushed him away?
She almost laughed out loud at that thought, but caught herself. Who was she kidding?
The worst part about that was, after all the recent happenings, and his oddly standoffish behavior, she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him. Mostly sure—if his reaction to her just a moment ago had anything to say about it—but not entirely.
She supposed it was a good thing he’d stopped it. She didn’t want to act too hasty here, be a victim of what might just be pent up hormones, and do something she would regret for the rest of her life. However long that turned out to be.
Surah watched as Charlie wandered over to the small table and took a seat, dusting off an old book that was there and cracking it open.
“Rest now, princess,” he said.
Those were the last words spoken between them as the exhaustion caused by the last couple days took over her, and her body fell down into a deep, peaceful sleep.
Her last thought had been an answer to the question she’d asked herself, and she didn’t know it, but she passed out with a small smile on her lips.
Since when had she become such a hopeless romantic?
Since Charlie Redmine walked back into her life.
The question that burned her was different, and she thought she should make it a point to learn the answer before this thing got on any further. The question was, what had happ
ened to Charlie since that day at the castle that made him the way he was now?
Just who was this man she was falling in love with?
Chapter 6
Theo
A terrible storm of emotions raged inside him as he stood at the bedside of his comatose king.
King Syrian looked better today than he had yesterday, but the Warlock had said it could take him a couple weeks to fully recover.
That didn’t mean that he couldn’t wake any day now. He could. The princess had used the Black Stone to reverse the demon poison just in time, and the effects of it were still working themselves out of his system.
In that storm of emotions, love was part of what filled Theo as he stared down at his king, a grimace on his handsome face that he was not aware of.
King Syrian had always been good to him, had practically raised him as his own after Theo’s entire family had been lost in the war. Theo was the last of his name, and the king could have very well turned his back on him, or simply brushed him aside, but he had not.
King Syrian was a good man.
Theo would never forget the words the king had told him after his family’s funeral, as he’d stood beside him and accepted condolences with Theo, who’d been just a boy, and could not help the tears from streaming down his face, though they shamed him.
King Syrian had placed his large hand on Theo’s shoulder and regarded him with gentle violet eyes; eyes the same color as his daughter’s.
