The Heart Between Kingdoms

by Mary Dublin

  That tenderness was nowhere to be seen as Daniel lifted his eyes and narrowed them at Tessa. "Get out. Both of you."

  Brennan fled for the both of them.

  Tessa was trembling violently by the time he set her down again. "Let me go. Let me go, Brennan! He's going to kill me."

  The moment she was able, she vaulted free of him, pushing at his chest to find her footing. It was with a groan of dismay that she realized the soft black-threaded upholstery under her feet was the seat of one of the fireside armchairs. She didn't trust her wings, scarcely healed, during such a crucial moment. She would have to climb down to get away.

  But where could she hide? Surely the bookcase would be the first place Daniel would search. Yet, there was no time to find a better place.

  "Tessa, stop," Brennan pleaded. "He's not going to hurt you."

  She could barely hear him in her panic. "You don't sound too sure of that."

  "I am sure of it." He was only a step behind her as she looked down over the side of the seat. Before she could duck away from him, he took her by the wrists and pulled her away from the edge. She dug her feet in, but it was no use.

  "If you don't think he's going to hurt me, then maybe you don't know him as well as you think. You saw how he looked at me. Others have given me that look before, and it never ends well, Brennan, let go!"

  In her peripherals, she saw movement on the mantle. Rommen looked on with wide eyes, shaking his head. "Now you've done it," he clucked.

  Brennan twisted to glare at him, looking almost as furious as King Daniel. Tessa tried to wrench her wrists from his grip while he was distracted.

  "Stop," he repeated, standing directly in front of her and locking gazes. "Even if Daniel wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't let him lay a finger on you."

  Fresh tears blurred her vision. "And so you'd fight your king because of me. Have you considered that I don't want you to? You all need each other. You can't afford to be at odds. Just let me go. If I can find a way out, I'll be—"

  "No. Enough is enough. You matter too, Tessa. You're not going to hide. Not anymore. We're not going to survive if we all don't start trusting each other."

  "I'm not going to survive either way."

  Each breath seemed to fill her lungs with cold hopelessness. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, a part of her wishing she wasn't too exhausted to change his mind with her magic. But even she couldn't lie to herself and say she could do such a thing.

  "All my magic does is get me into trouble," she murmured. "I knew it would hurt her, but it was so much worse than I thought. There is no such thing as a good manipulator."

  Brennan's hands slipped from her shoulders, down to her waist. They found their way underneath her folded wings and locked against her back.

  "I've known Esmae nearly all my life. You did her a kindness, whether or not anyone cares to see it that way. She had to mourn."

  "But the king…"

  "Don't worry about him. He's just a puppy, really. A very large one."

  Tessa choked out a laugh, finding herself relaxing into his embrace. "You hate dogs."

  Brennan chuckled too. "Maybe not so much the ones who don't bite me."

  She felt him look down at her. Tessa stayed very still where she was, content to address the scruffy line of his jaw. His touch was not forceful like the king's' guards of her former kingdom. It was not lustful, like Hengest Highwater and the awful men who paid to caress her body. She felt golden and safe against Brennan, like in the childhood memories Tessa had glimpsed from Queen Esmae.

  "Why are you so determined to be kind to me?" All the fight was gone from her voice. "Why, when you have nothing to gain from it?"

  "Kindness shouldn't come from a place of wanting to gain in the first place."

  She sighed. "Not in my experience."

  "I think we can agree you haven't had the best of experiences."

  It was with caution that he removed his hands from her back, watching to see if she would take the opportunity to bolt. When she made no move, he took her hand and gently pulled her down to sit with him on the cushion. Exhaustion replaced the fear gradually fading from her body, and she put up no resistance. Tucking her legs to the side, she debated on whether to lean right up against him. His arm slid across the back of her shoulders, steadying her as she wavered.

  "Why did you help Esmae?" he asked suddenly. "You said yourself that your magic has gotten you into trouble. Yet you put yourself at risk for her sake. Why?"

  Tessa stiffened. She didn't need his help for balance, but he left his arm around her, and she decided she didn't mind it there.

  "Because... it felt right," she admitted, daring to lift her eyes up to his as she leaned into his side.

  "What did you hope to gain from it?"

  "Nothing."

  The smile he answered with made her breath catch. "There you have it. Kindness doesn't need rhyme nor reason."

  Tessa rolled her eyes, as though it would hide the grin that tugged at her lips. She fell quiet after that, ears strained to hear whether Daniel was coming to wring her neck. Sounds from the bedchamber were still soft, barely audible.

  "I was young when I lost my parents," she admitted, adjusting herself on Brennan's shoulder. "Or rather, I didn't lose them. They were taken from me. Killed for hiding a manipulator from the people that ruled my village."

  Brennan sucked in a soft breath. "I'm so very sorry, Tessa."

  "So am I," she said. "I didn't let myself feel the loss for so long. I felt nothing, and it was in that nothingness that I allowed myself to be taken advantage of by the men your queen told you of, and so many others." Her voice cracked and she tapered off, gathering her nerves. She was safe here. He was safe. "Everything that happened to me was my fault. I only hoped to spare her more pain."

  "You don't deserve what happened to you," he said firmly. "No more than Esmae deserved to lose her father."

  She gave a teary chuckle. "It was my fault, what happened to my parents. Once they realized what I was, they ordered me to never pursue my abilities. I was young and curious and frustrated with how unfair it all was. I studied forbidden volumes and learned spells in secret, but that wasn't enough. I needed to use my magic. I thought I could trust her."

  "Who?"

  "My dearest friend. We were fifteen at the time. She swore I could tell her anything. Show her anything. I probed her mind, barely scraped the surface, and it frightened her. She ran for the guards before I knew what was happening. My parents tried to protect me, and they died for it."

  She waited for Brennan to drop his arm away from her, to look her in the eye with disappointment and tell her that it really was her fault. His hand tightened on her upper arm, and his jaw clenched.

  "You were captive for that long?" he whispered.

  She nodded. "Captive, on display, sold, stolen. It all blurred. Hengest Highwater had me the longest—two full years, and I made him richer than he could have ever dreamed."

  Her wings ached dully at the awful memories. She thought she would never get to spread her wings full again. At least, not until the next time the restraining cords ripped through from an overly curious customer. She shivered.

  Noting Brennan's silence, she asked, "What are you thinking?"

  There was fire in his eyes as he tilted his head down to see her. "The things I would do if I ever saw that Hengest Highwater," he said matter-of-factly.

  She snorted, but her smile dropped immediately: a rustle of curtains and a thud of footsteps. Tessa straightened up and looked all around, but the armchair blocked her view of everything other than the fireplace.

  "Brennan," she pleaded softly, all her mustered courage abandoning her.

  The king crossed before the fire like a massive wall of darkness. The rumbling of his stride paused, then turned towards their chair. Spotted. Tessa flinched against Brennan, squeezing his tunic. Daniel's sheer size seemed to mock them as he loomed before them. They were level just under the he
ight of his knees at best, and she didn't have the strength to look any higher.

  But Brennan didn't budge, so neither did she.

  "You don't need to be frightened," Daniel said, his voice a gentler rumble than she'd expected.

  Tessa might've have laughed in his face for that if she wasn't terrified of being squished.

  The king got down on one knee, and his face came into view. It was hard not to look at him then, when his eyes looked so much like Aveline's. To her surprise, he seemed to be having just as much difficulty looking at her.

  "Esmae sends her thanks," Daniel declared softly. "I… believe I owe you an apology. I didn't have a clue what was happening."

  Tessa stared. Years of experience warned her it could be a trick, but Daniel didn't seem the type, especially given the circumstances. She couldn't forget the glimpses she'd caught of him in Esmae's memories, either. If he had a more malicious side, he was an expert at hiding it.

  All she knew was that he would kill for his queen, and he looked anything but murderous.

  "Is she alright?" Tessa asked.

  He frowned, considering it. "I don't know if 'alright' is the word, but she's better than she was without your help. She wanted some time alone." Pausing, he heaved a remorseful sigh. "I really am sorry, Tessa."

  "I-it's not your fault," she said at once, averting her gaze. "It can't have looked good, and I may have overstepped my boundaries. Manipulation magic is known to be, well... manipulative. Not good."

  "I can't say I know much about that," he admitted. "But from what I understand, fairy magic isn't inherently good or bad. It's up to the person to give it meaning. And you don't seem like a bad person to me."

  Tessa breathed in sharply. She was so accustomed to fearful adrenaline running through her veins at the sight of him that she couldn't quite place what to feel now. She managed a nod.

  "Er… Thank you, Your Majesty."

  "Call me Daniel." Though he smiled, his eyes remained apologetic. There came a rustle of thick fabric shifting as he brought his hand up from his knee and slid it across the cushion, offering the tip of his index finger to Tessa. "You have my thanks as well as Esmae's."

  Tessa didn't realize how hard she was leaning into Brennan until he moved. There was a trace of a smirk on his lips as he took her hand and guided it out. She was rigid with uncertainty, but didn't resist when Brennan placed her hand on Daniel's finger. The king's thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand—a quick and painless gesture of gratitude.

  Brennan chuckled in her ear. "Look at that. Your whole arm's still here."

  A throat cleared timidly behind Daniel's back. Rommen flew a little higher as the king turned, as if worried his interruption would be an annoyance.

  "This is all very well and good, but is anyone worried about the fact Aeron is still out for blood?" Rommen folded and unfolded his arms, a nervous twitch that he'd been at on and off all evening.

  "We have thirty knights for every floor in this castle," Daniel replied. "We're safe so long as we stay together."

  "You didn't see what I saw," Rommen muttered, making himself smaller. "He's… he's something else entirely now. He has this raw sort of power about him I've never seen before. It's not natural."

  Daniel's frown deepened. "I've ordered the captains to keep everyone on high alert as a precaution. But I can't very well lead an attack on Evrosea without exposing all of your kind to Mirrel. It would change everything, forever."

  "Bogdan might do that bit for you," Brennan pointed out bitterly.

  "I think he's bluffing," Daniel argued. "He's gained power, but he's no god. He knows he couldn't throw Evrosea into the light and maintain the upper hand. My people are too numerous."

  "And giant," Rommen tacked on with a dramatic shudder that had Daniel's expression flattening unappreciatively.

  "We have to assume he's up to something," Brennan said firmly. "He may not be able to afford to strike with brute force, but I doubt he will be content keeping to Evrosea for long."

  Daniel's eyes became somewhat distant. "Evrosea is not being conquered without a fight. He has a fair amount of resistance to deal with there, at least from what Esmae and I saw. Even if we were in any shape to help right now, the barrier has gone solid."

  As troubling as the discussion was, Tessa realized how much worse it could be when Brennan dragged her into it.

  "Tessa, your magic… Do you think you'd be able to affect a glamour barrier?"

  Her heart leapt to her throat as every eye turned to her. "I… I wouldn't know for sure unless I saw it for myself. I'm sorry, but I doubt I could affect a wall that crucial."

  "You wouldn't need to go at it alone," Brennan said, looking to Rommen. "Whether Aeron likes it or not, you're still a royal. And that means you're familiar with the barrier that protects the kingdom, am I right?"

  The prince folded his arms and gave a reluctant nod.

  Tessa's mouth was dry. The last thing she wanted was to go near that madman Aeron Bogdan, and she wasn't thrilled about being volunteered to work with Rommen, who still stared at her as though she might shed her skin and unleash a monster at any moment.

  Though Brennan still had his arm around her, he was too eagerly wrapped up in his plans to catch her discomfort.

  Daniel did. "In any case, we still need time to recover before we can even think about storming Evrosea. What's important right now is that we stay together."

  Tessa felt a surge of warmth for being included in the statement. It was matched by a chill that came with knowing that belonging no longer meant safety.

  Chapter

  Nine

  "I'm concerned, Daniel."

  "You've made that clear, thank you, Edmund."

  Standing before a set of frost-painted windows, Daniel had a goblet of honey wine in hand, watching snow fall by light of the courtyard lanterns. Beside him, Edmund gripped his glass tight between both hands and did not drink at all. The councilor's icy blonde hair was pushed out of his face—as ever, keeping up with the latest styles of Mirrel's nobles. White showed here and there, streaking the close-cropped hair on his chin. Daniel felt old looking at him, remembering when he had been young and lean with more yellow in his beard.

  "You've been dodging the court at every turn this week," Edmund pressed. His voice was low and careful, rife with nerves. "Disappearing into your chambers for hours at a time, riding into the deep woods with Her Majesty with only a single escort... I'm not the only one who's beginning to ask questions."

  Daniel's throat tightened. "I've wanted privacy, I told you that. With Avie's fits at night, I…"

  "Don't insult me, Your Majesty. Please." Edmund's low voice spiked to a higher decibel. "I've served you for more than a dozen years. What's really going on?"

  Focusing on the glow of the lanterns, Daniel clenched his jaw and took a drink. There were fairies who spoke as if all humans lied so easily and painlessly, but that was far from reality in his case. He wished he could confide in Edmund, but the risk was too high.

  "We received word that Esmae's father has passed," Daniel admitted. It was easier to look him in the eye after that.

  "Her father." Edmund frowned in thought, and Daniel could understand why. The fabricated stories of Esmae's past were vague, and after a few years, her family was rarely brought up at all. "Yes. He chose to remain in his village. Wanted to continue making an honest living."

  Daniel nodded. A truth wrapped in lies was better than no truth at all. "He was a good man. It came unexpectedly. Esmae is devastated, and I can hardly bear to leave her side while she's in mourning. She finds comfort riding through the woods, away from the castle."

  The harsh accusation on Edmund's face softened. "Why take such measures to keep it secret? There is no shame in the queen mourning her father."

  "Have you forgotten that Esmae did not grow up in this life? The loss has shaken her enough without being overwhelmed by constant condolences from people who don't know a thing about who she lost. She wants
to grieve in private, and I prefer to keep it that way."

  "If these are her wishes, so be it," Edmund agreed readily. "I only hope you remember the rest of us are at your disposal. For more than treaties and court arrangements, if you ever wished."

  He did know. If Edmund only knew what secrets he was protected from.

  Daniel had tried many times since taking Esmae into his life to imagine a version of reality where he could be the forthcoming leader that his staff deserved. Would the dish maids faint for the sheer scandal of it? Every knight speechless at the prospect of a hidden kingdom in their own corner of the southern woods?

  It was an entertaining thought, but even as he studied Edmund's earnest eyes, he knew it could never be anything more. There was so very much at stake, and he was no gambler.

  Daniel forced a smile, making it wide enough to be credible. "The palace would fall apart without you, my friend."

  Tittering, Edmund shook his head. "That's kind, Your Majesty, but I'm certain that—"

  The rest of his words choked off with a gasp as a shrill, girlish scream pierced the stillness. Daniel drew away from him in the same instant, both of them stilled like dogs. It came again. This time, every hair on his body stood on end as a cold rush of fear spread through him.

  It was Avie.

  Edmund shouted in alarm, racing towards the nearest stairwell. Daniel tore ahead of him, taking the black stone steps two at a time. With his heart hammering in his ears, he could scarcely hear Edmund's echoing demands for guards to inspect the princess at once, for all and any servants to follow.

  Her room was two stories up. When Daniel arrived, there were already four armored guards outside Aveline's bedroom door. They were clustered about like moths around a lamp, fluttering about without making any real progress on getting inside.

  "It's jammed!" one cried in panic. "We can't get it to budge."

  He hadn't felt the wine slip from his grasp, but Daniel noted its absence for the first time as he fumbled for the iron handle. When nothing happened, he slammed his shoulder into the door in the hopes of breaking it down the other way. He may as well have given it a flick with his finger. It was as solid as stone, locked in its frame. He cursed and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear Avie in there, just beyond his reach. She was calling for him, for Esmae, her voice small and whimpering and frightened.