by Alex Lidell
“Go back to bed, mortal,” Coal orders.
I don’t budge, my heart speeding again. “There were shackles and pain, things with gray skin and pink eyes.”
“The qoru,” Coal says, pulling his hair back from his face, the movements stiff. The muscles of his arms and chest, so defined they would put a sculptor to shame, are coiled tightly beneath taut skin, and the heat radiating from him in waves brushes over my own flesh. “They are the dominant race in Mors. I’m unsure why you dreamt of them, but I don’t imagine it was pleasant.”
“It wasn’t my dream, Coal.” I find his eyes, glaring into his haunted blue gaze. “It was yours. And it wasn’t the first one, either.”
Coal says nothing, which I take as a good sign.
Rising to my knees, I slide close enough to lay a hand on one muscled shoulder. But for all the times Coal has helped me, I don’t know how to offer comfort that the warrior will accept. “Shade and I worked hard on the flesh you are destroying again,” I say, picking up a corner of the sheet to dab at Coal’s back. “Are you in pain?”
“No.”
I snort softly. “I truly don’t know why I bother asking questions that I know you’ll lie in response to.”
A chuckle. Barely audible, but there.
I’ve never been so relieved to see a smile in my life.
Shaking my head, I brush my hand down his right shoulder, along the deadly curve of his bicep and forearm to the lacerated skin around his wrist. For the first time since I’ve touched him, I feel Coal tense beneath my fingers, a fine tremble running through his muscles. I touch his wrist lightly, like comforting a wild animal on the verge of bolting. With the damage to his back, no one looked twice at the marks the binds left behind when they bit into his skin today. Hearing Coal’s breath still, I know I’ve found the source of the nightmares after all.
“You don’t like being bound,” I say softly.
“Do you?”
“I don’t like the sound of a belt being pulled loose.” I clench my jaw, needing a breath before I can think again. Coal’s dream brushes against my memory, the dream and the shadow of Malikai’s taunt. Beatings were the least of what Coal faced, I realize with a cold shiver. The qoru did to Coal the one thing Zake never did to me.
“I can’t heal these,” I caress the raw skin. “Not without Shade.”
Coal pulls his hand out of my grip, all hints of humor gone. “I don’t need to be healed.” He catches my wrist when I reach for him again. “You should leave my bedchamber now, mortal. Whatever you imagined you felt has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh, stars, are we back to the ‘I’ve no notion of what you mean’ horseshit?” I lean close enough to invade Coal’s space, my heart pounding. A muscle ticks along his jaw. “And what were you dreaming of? Or do you imagine you were lying here peacefully when I came in?”
Coal’s blue eyes pierce mine, his voice cold. “I dreamt of fucking. And not with you.” I flinch and he releases me, tossing my arm back into my lap. “Go to your own bed, mortal. Or to Shade’s. Or to Tye’s. Hell, go to River’s bed. I little care so long as you are out of mine.”
“You know what I think?” My words vibrate through the thick air. “I think you are telling the truth about little fearing a few lashes. It was being shackled that had you terrified. So damn scared, it gave you nightmares strong enough to bridge the bond with me. I think that even the notion of allowing someone to take hold of your wrists is more than you can bear without shaking. And you know what else?” I let the words hang for a heartbeat then lower my voice so low that only fae hearing could pick it up. “I think that what Malikai guessed happened to you in Mors is absolutely true.”
This time, Coal doesn’t order me out.
He gets up and leaves himself.
23
Lera
I pull on a pair of comfortable pants and a soft blue tunic, finding both by feel more than sight in the bedchamber’s darkness. My mind spins through the sleepless fatigue, the sight of Coal storming out of the room burning in my memory. Have I made things worse, tearing open a half-healed wound? Should I stanch the damage by shutting the hell up now and giving the male the space he demands?
I discard that option even as it comes. Coal might have sold the whole damn quint on his not-caring act, but the stars will freeze and fall to the earth before I let him think I’m bowing quietly to the fiction. He’s tried his way of coping for three hundred years. That’s more than a fair stretch by anyone’s measure. Especially mine.
My fingers make quick work of a braid, and I race into the common room—cursing as I trip over a gray lump of wolf that chooses this very moment to weave around my legs.
“Let me pass, Shade,” I say, pushing him away—with little success. I growl softly. “I know you saw Coal pass through here five minutes ago. So are you protecting me from him or him from me? Because I can assure you that neither of those options will end well for you.”
The wolf yips and gives me a guilt-inspiring look that he’s no doubt spent centuries perfecting.
I cross my arms, glancing at the door. The five-minute lead Coal has on me is already stretching into ten, and the male knows the Citadel grounds far better than I do. “You know,” I say, my voice light, “I wonder if your shifting magic might work on me as well. Want to stick around and try? What could possibly go wrong?”
With a small, highly displeased growl, Shade nips my hand and stalks away to curl himself in the corner, those mournful eyes watching me from atop fuzzy paws.
“I’m glad we agree,” I tell the wolf sweetly, and I step out into the night, the cold air pricking my skin. Wrapping my arms around myself, I walk down the few steps from our door and blow out a slow breath. If it were me, I’d likely be making my way to a stable right now, wedging myself into a corner of an empty stall and letting the familiar scents of horse and hay calm my brittle nerves. What would be Coal’s equivalent of my stable?
Almost immediately, my mind conjures an image in answer—wooden practice swords, a rope-wrapped post.
“He likely went to the training yard,” a bright female voice says from the shadows, sending my heart into a gallop. Heels grind against the gravel walkway as Klarissa’s silhouette flows toward me. The material of her emerald gown is light enough to ripple in the breeze and clings to her body to show off perfect lines. A priceless diadem woven into her long, dark hair manages to catch what little light the night offers. “At least, I assume it’s Coal you came out here to find? I’d check the training yard. You’ll find it on the same side of the Citadel grounds as the practice arena, but farther north.”
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Thank you, Elder.” I bow, buying myself seconds to think, to hope that Shade might decide to follow me after all. Seconds pass but no help arrives. “You must forgive my startled reaction. I hardly expected a chance meeting outside my door at such an hour.”
Klarissa tips her head back and laughs musically. “It’s hardly a chance meeting, Leralynn. Well, meeting you is unexpected, but my personal curiosity has had me here for several hours now. I realize everything at the Citadel is new to you, but for me, having watched River’s quint go through the trials once before, the differences this time around are too fascinating to overlook. You can’t blame me for wondering whether today’s regretful mishap in the dining hall might have had . . . more repercussions than were immediately obvious.”
My fingers dig into my arms. “Of course, Elder. I’m certain keeping a watchful eye on all the trainees is one of your primary concerns.”
“This is nothing like your males’ first tour, you know,” Klarissa says, gazing toward the arena. “Time was, River’s quint was second in power only to the Elders Council itself. The raw power was there even in training. To surrender during a trial? Why, that would have been as unthinkable three centuries ago as finding Coal at the whipping post. Truth be told, I’ve never seen that male terrified before. Fear has a smell, you know. It’s quite difficult to conceal, even with
all the stoic bravado.”
I nod and try to think of white dandelions—just in case thoughts have a smell too.
“I don’t wish to detain you,” Klarissa says, smiling so convincingly that a stranger might call it kind. “I simply saw you and thought it appropriate to admit firsthand to you that I was wrong. I confess that I believed the council should have pressed harder to sever you from the quint, but in retrospect, your presence here is one of the most valuable lessons for all of the Citadel. I imagine that after witnessing the destruction of such a powerful quint, none of the others in history will consider repeating the same mistakes. And we have you to thank for it.”
I manage a bow before walking off, the night howling in my ears as I beg the stars not to find Coal in the training yard after all. That Klarissa doesn’t know my quint as well as I do. Except of course she does.
I hear the clank of wood against targets and training posts before I get close enough to see a lone shirtless figure going through a deadly dance. Coal’s blade is an extension of his muscled body, striking with preternatural speed as he battles phantoms, splintering wood and breaking bales of hay. Droplets of sweat and blood fly from him as he turns, the air whistling with the speed of his blade.
Settling on the sideline of the training yard, I pull my legs beneath me and watch, knowing better than to interrupt until Coal himself acknowledges my presence.
He doesn’t. Not for an hour. Or two. Or four. He doesn’t stop moving either, even as waves of sleep wash over me and I find myself dozing off. Each time I open my eyes, I find that nothing has changed but the time of night.
A hand touches my shoulder with the breaking dawn, and I find myself looking into Kora’s concerned blue eyes.
“He’s been here all night,” I whisper.
Kora’s brows rise as Coal chooses that moment to twist about and destroy one of the few remaining training posts with a single hard blow. “Good stars. Did he even feel the lashes?”
I want to laugh bitterly, which shows how tired I am. Is there anyone Coal doesn’t have fooled except for Klarissa and me?
“Let’s see if he’s willing to share,” Kora says, squeezing my shoulder as she rises. She makes a motion to her warriors, and the females all choose practice blades before walking onto the training yard at Kora’s back. The female calls a friendly challenge to Coal, who nods without ever stopping and knocks two of the five females on their backsides before I can draw a breath.
“Human.”
I jump at the sound of the familiar grating voice at my back. I turn slowly, finding Malikai behind a nearby tree. The male motions me over, his orange tunic billowing in the wind, outlining his tightly muscled chest and arms.
First Klarissa and now Malikai. And here I thought the day couldn’t get any worse. Malikai motions me over again, and my heart speeds with as much fear of approaching the bastard as disobeying his command. Straightening my spine, I rise to my feet and stride to him, my chin raised in a futile attempt to glare down my nose at the tall male. “What do you want, sir?”
Malikai leads us a few paces farther from the training yard, cutting off the line of sight to Coal and Kora, though I’m certain either would hear me if I screamed.
“Yes, we’re still within earshot,” Malikai confirms, following my gaze. His straight black hair is tied back in a thin ponytail, the long widow’s peak stark against his tan face. Now that he’s not trying to assault or humiliate me, I notice that his eyes are different colors—one a sky blue, the other a pale green. He shows me his empty palms then puts his hands into his pockets. “I don’t imagine you’re happy to see me.”
“You would be right.”
A corner of Malikai’s mouth twitches, though with humor instead of cruelty. “At least we can speak plainly with each other—that’s already a start.”
I don’t want to start anything with the bastard. “Excuse me, sir, my quint is waiting for me.” I turn away from him.
“I needed to speak with you alone, Leralynn,” Malikai says to my back. “I realize you’ve little reason to like me right now, but will you at least hear me out? I need your help.”
I spin angrily. “Unless I can help you drop dead, I’m not interested in aiding anything you do.”
He sighs, his lips pressing together. “Listen, before you burn bridges you may wish to make use of. I’m a bastard, but I’m not an idiot—I’ve no notion of why River surrendered during the trial, but I know he could have knocked us all into the Gloom with half a thought.”
“You mean the trial where you went after me instead of the flag?” I say.
“Yes, the trial where I went after the weakest link to avoid the appearance of giving anything but my utmost effort. Had I done any less, my whole quint would have found itself having much the same experience as Coal did last night, so you’ll forgive me for choosing them over you.”
I cross my arms, which Malikai takes as an invitation to return to his original point.
“Given the other things that have happened since then, I’m not eager to face either River or Coal again in a trial. I need you to request your second trial. Right now.”
“Did I do something to make you think I’m suicidal?” I say in what I think an extremely reasonable tone under the circumstances.
The corner of Malikai’s mouth twitches again. “You will request the Individual Trial, face me, make a show of putting up a fight—forget a show, you can fight as much as you please—and then you’ll surrender. You can still take the trial over, but the council won’t pit our quints against each other for a third time. I will promise not to hurt you. I’ll even let you land a few blows.” He spreads his arms. “Your quint never has to see mine again and vice versa. A neat and clean solution that lets us both walk away unscathed.”
“This sounds like a command decision, sir,” I say. “You should discuss it with River.”
Malikai grabs my wrist, making me gasp. “I caused a great many problems for River yesterday. If I were him, I’d agree and then change the order of combat at the last moment. I can’t risk facing Coal in the arena. Quint trainees die in trials, Leralynn. I won’t let that happen to me.”
“Maybe you should have considered that yesterday,” I say.
Malikai’s lips tighten. “I made a mistake. It was a spur-of-the-moment foolery that I can’t undo. Or do you imagine that if I simply go apologize, we can all put this behind us?”
A grunt of pain sounds from the arena. Coal destroying warriors, one after the other.
I pull my hand free of Malikai’s grip and stifle the urge to wipe my wrist against my uniform. “No, I don’t imagine an apology will suffice,” I agree. “Nor do I think I want to make your life easier, sir. Excuse me.”
“Don’t you understand—”
“You asked me to put on a show to ensure that you never have to face Coal in the arena. I said no. And now, sir, I’m telling you to go to hell.”
“I’d consider the consequences of that, if I were you.” Malikai steps closer, his nostrils flaring as he takes in my scent. He smiles, showing sharp canines, and his voice lowers. “Deny me now, and I’ll make yesterday’s dinner experience a nightly occurrence. You see, Leralynn, your males have a weakness the size of a barn door—they are bloody easy to provoke. What do you imagine your wolf shifter will do if I, say, slap your ass right under his nose? We already know how to get Coal’s blood boiling over his common sense. A bit of prodding and I’ll have River and Tye worked over just as easily. Refuse me now, and my quint and I will ensure there is blood watering the whipping post grounds every evening you’re here. It will be a sight to see.”
My breath stills, my muscles rigid. “You’re mad,” I whisper to the male. “You are talking about walking through a hayloft with an open flame, just to see how many bales you can destroy before the whole barn crashes on your ears.”
Malikai shakes his head. “I’m not mad. I’m desperate. When your alternative is being burned at the stake, treading hay with an open fla
me starts sounding quite attractive.”
24
Lera
I do as Malikai says, heading directly to the council to request the trial. To ensure that my fight will come first. My heart pounds, my squeezing lungs barely letting me form the words. I hate doing this, hate keeping it from the others. I hate that I have to.
“I’ll make the arrangements,” Klarissa tells me, a small smile curving her painted lips as she walks me from the foyer of the Elders Council tower. “Make your way to the trial arena. You’ll find a clean uniform in the preparation room. Your quint will meet you there. I’ll make certain of that personally.”
This last part sends an arrow of dread through me, its point sharp enough to nick my heart.
A quarter hour later, my black pants are buttoned and my shaking fingers are attempting to tie the sash around my burgundy tunic when the door to the preparation room slams open.
A sword falls from its hook on the wall, the ring of steel on stone echoing from the high ceiling.
For a moment, Coal’s blue eyes are all I see.
“What did you do?” he roars, his hot hands pinning my ribcage against the wall while my feet dangle in the air, my hair loose and wild around my shoulders. His pulse thunders so hard, I can see it against his neck. His metallic scent fills my lungs.
A lupine growl fills the room in answer to Coal’s question, the sound guttural and laden with the promise of death and dismemberment.
“Do that one more time and I’ll muzzle you, dog,” Coal snaps over his shoulder.
Bloody stars. This reaction alone proves Malikai right. The males are too easy to provoke. I sigh and meet Coal’s sapphire-blue eyes, forcing my voice to a calm lightness as I explain Malikai’s ultimatum.
Coal’s eyes widen, his mouth opening, then closing—whether in rage or disbelief, it’s too hard to say.
