The Awakening (The Bryn And Sinjin Series Book 6)

by HP Mallory

  “Soul searching?” he said with a smile, but it sounded like a question. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Soul searching,” I answered with a laugh. He reached down and took my hand, and I let him. “Didn’t we visit a forest in one of my dreams?” I asked, somewhat cheered by his presence.

  “Ah, yes,” he replied. “I think I took you to Albania—you hated how dark the forest was.”

  “Because you kept scaring me!” I pointed out, remembering the dream as if it had happened the previous evening.

  “You look especially beautiful today,” he said as he looked at me. “Something about how the light falls on your face as the sun makes its way through the tree branches and the leaves.” He took a breath. “It suits you.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, not entirely sure how to respond. In general, I wasn’t good with compliments.

  Dureau raised his eyes and made eye contact with me for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Lady Bryn, you don’t understand your own beauty—neither the very fact of its existence or the effect it has on men.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think it matters,” I replied, surprising myself with how strongly I felt about the subject. “Maybe I’m beautiful and I just don’t know it. Maybe you’re completely wrong and I’m a hideous beast. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Why doesn’t it matter?”

  I shrugged. “I care about my ability to fight. I care about my ability to defend the people I love, like my sister, and Emma, and, of course, the way of life we want to maintain at Kinloch Kirk. Me being attractive has nothing to do with my ability to keep anyone safe. I don’t need to recognize that I’m attractive—when push comes to shove, what I need to recognize is whether or not I’m capable of protecting the people I love.”

  “You need to work on your ability to accept compliments,” Dureau said with a laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, shaking my head with a sigh. Then, I smiled at him. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “I can see that.” He swallowed, and we were quiet for a few seconds as we continued holding hands and walking deeper into the forest. Pretty soon, the canopy of trees overhead bathed us in darkness and the sun only shone through in prisms of light that caught the brown of Dureau’s hair, bringing out the streaks of blond and auburn.

  “You’re very handsome, yourself,” I said, almost without realizing it.

  He glanced over at me, his eyebrows arched. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  I started to laugh. “Come on.”

  “Are you… attracted to me, Bryn?” he asked, his tone suddenly all seriousness.

  “Didn’t I just admit I was?”

  He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, are you… interested in me? As something more than your friend?”

  I was quiet as I took a deep breath and felt a heaviness descend on my shoulders. “Yes,” I confessed, honestly.

  He stopped walking. I stopped walking. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down the side of my face. I was surprised at how gently he touched me. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his embrace. Then, he placed his lips delicately on mine and he kissed me.

  Our kiss was tender, introducing me to the idea that romance didn’t always need to be hot and heavy, but could be something sweet and slow. And he tasted good. He smelled good. He felt good.

  Then, he pulled away and released me. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  He smiled down at me and we spent the next few seconds just looking at one another.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he admitted.

  I swallowed. “I want you to kiss me again.”

  And then his hands were on my waist, pulling me into him, and his lips were back on mine. But unlike the gentle kiss we’d just shared, this one was stronger, deeper, more insistent. When an image of Sinjin kissing me suddenly infiltrated my mind, I pulled away in a rush of guilt.

  What the hell am I doing? I asked myself. First, it’s Sinjin, now it’s Dureau? And wasn’t I just deciding that I wasn’t going to get involved with either one of them?

  Clearly, I was confused.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, and then sighed. “It’s just… we… we shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “Because of Sinjin?”

  I shook my head. “I’m just… confused about… everything,” I explained. “I know that sounds lame, but it’s the truth. And I just… I don’t think it’s right or fair to get you all wrapped up in… me, right now.”

  “What if I want to be wrapped up in you?”

  “I’m not a good bet at the moment.”

  We both just stood there for a while. I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it was long enough for me to start to feel uncomfortable.

  “If I’m being entirely honest, it’s not an accident we found each other today,” Dureau started. “I came looking for you, because there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “What?”

  He nodded, and I grew irked with myself that I hadn’t noticed him following me earlier. I needed to be better than that. My instincts weren’t sharp, because my head was such a battleground with thoughts about Sinjin and Dureau that I had no business dwelling on.

  “It’s with regard to your ancestry.”

  “My ancestry?” I repeated, frowning at him. I hadn’t been expecting this line of conversation. “My ancestry is that I’m an Elemental.”

  But Dureau shook his head. “The truth is that you’re the same as your sister—you both are witches.”

  I shook my head and frowned. “I’m not a witch. Jolie’s a witch, yes.”

  “Bryn, Elementals and witches are different words for the exact same type of being,” he told me, a sense of urgency behind his words.

  “Uh, no,” I replied, hoping not to embarrass him, given the horrendous misunderstanding of magical genealogy the otherwise smart man had just demonstrated. Dureau was so knowledgeable about every other aspect of magic, or so I’d thought—how could he have gotten this one so wrong?

  “Elementals are descended from witches, but we’re not the same species of magical being. We’re very different,” I explained.

  “You think you’re different.”

  “I know we’re different.”

  Dureau remained silent. I decided to tell him the story of the origins of the Elemental species, as friends helped friends learn new things—right?

  “Centuries ago, a group of humans found a band of witches and vampires in the woods of Gratz, Austria,” I began. I looked around at the forest we stood in just then—perhaps this was similar to what those witches and vampires had seen, right before everything went very wrong. “The humans served as prey, but they rebelled and ingested the blood of those who had once hunted them. The end result was Elementals and Daywalkers.” I was quiet as I tried to remember the particulars as I’d always been told them. “Now that I think of it, Luce always said he was one of the rebel humans, which means he was one of the first progenitors of the Elemental species,” I finished, all the while starting once again to doubt whether or not the Flame really was a worthy opponent to Luce’s own magic.

  “Is that what Luce told you?” Dureau asked with… was it anger?

  “Yes?” I responded, but my affirmation sounded more like a question. “It’s not accurate?”

  Dureau sighed as he began to pace back and forth between two huge pine trees, the rate of his gait and his sagging posture suggesting he literally carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He muttered to himself. “I should have told you earlier.” His murmuring grew harder to understand, but angrier in tone.

  “Dureau,” I interrupted. “What do you need to tell me?”

  “Your history isn’t exactly as
you know it to be.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I need to explain to you the story of how Elementals and Daywalkers came to be—it’s a story that proves that witches and Elementals are the exact same species. Anything you’ve heard otherwise is a lie,” he stated firmly, shocking me.

  I stood perfectly still for a second as the weight of his words registered. Of course, I wanted to fight whatever he was going to tell me, but I knew better. This wasn’t the first time I’d been confronted with Luce’s lies. And I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

  “The massacre in Austria wasn’t led by humans,” Dureau started. “It was an uprising led by Luce against the government of magical beings in place at that time. That government was known as ‘the Council.’”

  “The Council?” I repeated, but my voice sounded hollow and far away.

  “Yes. The Council was a loose association of the heads, chiefs, and royals of various magical tribes and nations. It was less of a republic than a confederation, as each of the individual tribes and nations were fiercely independent, proud of the differences that separated them from one another,” he continued, as if he were teaching a history lesson to a bunch of eager students. He didn’t seem to even notice that I was struggling to pay attention to his words. I still hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that what he was telling me contradicted everything I’d been taught to believe.

  “They were gratified to be unique groups, meeting together only to discuss affairs that affected the entire magical world. Otherwise, they led themselves as independent tribes and nations, each with their own unique values and way of life.” He took a breath and started walking again, me beside him. “Luce wasn’t happy with the leadership of the Council. In fact, he wasn’t happy with the Council’s existence at all, because he wanted to be the ruler of all magical creatures, regardless of species.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” I grumbled.

  Dureau nodded. “Luce has always craved power for himself. He isn’t a leader who leads for the sake of his people, like…”

  “Queen Jolie,” we finished in unison.

  He smiled. “Luce convinced a young vampire to personally help him with his cause.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I listened. “Nairn?”

  “She was much less experienced that he was, but he promised her power, freedom, and independence from her father, who happened to be a Council member. In Nairn, he saw the power of forming a relationship with the daughter of one of the Council members.” He took a deep breath and then faced me. “You good so far?”

  “I’m fine. Keep going.” To be honest, I wasn’t sure how fine I was.

  He gave a quick nod and took another breath. “One night, Nairn orchestrated it so that Luce could sneak into a Council meeting.”

  “Sneak in?”

  “In those days, Luce wasn’t even respected enough to have a seat on the Council,” Dureau explained. “He was basically a nobody.”

  “Wow.”

  “Anyway, once she snuck him in, he attempted to slaughter the Council members.” My eyes went wide as Dureau continued. “While Luce’s magic was powerful, it was no match for the might of the Council itself, given that these were the leaders of various magical tribes and nations.”

  “So what happened?”

  “So, Nairn watched Luce fail at his would-be coup from afar, but not from such a distance that she was able to hide her role. Apparently, she was in love with him.”

  “I didn’t see that coming,” I said, remembering how austere Nairn had been with Luce when I’d been a tribe member. They seemed to have mutual respect for one another, but that was it.

  “The Council blamed Nairn as much as they blamed Luce for the rebellion and the injuries received by those Council members who fought Luce. By the end of the failed insurrection, it was too late for Nairn. She was exiled by the Council, along with Luce.”

  “They exiled them?” I asked, shaking my head. “Why weren’t they both punished by death, since they’d tried to kill the Council members?”

  “Nairn didn’t try, Luce did.”

  “Kind of the same thing considering she gave him access, right?”

  He cocked his head to the side and shrugged. “Some thought the decision to spare Luce and Nairn from death was influenced by Nairn’s father. He probably didn’t want to see his only daughter put to death.”

  “So why not just order Luce’s death?”

  “I imagine Nairn begged for his exile instead? I don’t know.” He looked down at me and I nodded as he continued. “Anyway, Luce vowed revenge on the Council members, despite the fact that they’d shown him and Nairn kindness by allowing them to escape with their lives.”

  “Right,” I said with a clipped nod. “Luce will never admit he’s wrong. He’s incapable of seeing himself as anything other than—”

  “The rightful Supreme Leader of all magical creatures,” Dureau finished for me. “Despite all evidence pointing to the contrary, despite his complete lack of birthright or the fact that no democratic election appointing Luce to such a position has ever taken place—or ever will, for that matter.”

  “Yep, sounds about right.”

  Dureau went on. “One year after the duo’s initial exile, Luce and Nairn kidnapped twelve children, six vampires, and six witches. Those children, and a handful of adults Luce and Nairn picked up along the way, became the first members of what is now known as the Tribe.”

  “So that’s how it started,” I murmured as I put the pieces together. “But the children would have known the truth? That they were kidnapped?”

  He shook his head. “No. They were magically brainwashed. They grew up thinking they’d been born into the Tribe, that Nairn and Luce were their real parents.”

  “What happened after they kidnapped the children?”

  “As the years went by and generations began to replace one another, the abilities of the kidnapped children evolved to be different—though not wholly separate—from the abilities of vampires and witches raised traditionally, in other magical nations.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Luce encouraged some of their traits but not others. Almost like breeding dogs: over the years, if you discourage some traits, they naturally die out.” He took a breath. “Eventually, Luce and Nairn were able to claim that Elementals and Daywalkers were separate species from witches and vampires, though this was not the case and never will be.”

  “Interesting,” I said, trying desperately to wrap my head around it.

  “That brings us to today,” Dureau added. “Clearly, Luce has never given up his original ambition to be King of the magical community. Furthermore, Elementals and Daywalkers have never had the chance to know their true heritage and ancestry—”

  My eyes went wide. “And maybe if they did realize they weren’t any different from witches and vampires, they’d stop to think think about what Luce is doing?”

  “Perhaps?”

  The more I thought about it, the less convinced I became. “I don’t know that it would matter to them.”

  “You don’t think so?” Dureau asked, clearly believing it would. “They wouldn’t care to know that they would have every right to live as members of the Underworld, given their true ancestry?”

  I considered it and shrugged. “I don’t know. The tribe has been so brainwashed to believe we’re the enemy, I’m not sure any of them would be able to break free of that way of thinking.”

  “You did.”

  I nodded. “But my case was different. My sister is the queen of the Underworld.”

  “True,” Dureau agreed, but his determined expression didn’t let up. “The truth is that the witches who now call themselves ‘Elementals’ and the vampires who now call themselves ‘Daywalkers’ have much to learn from the witches and vampires who live within the borders of the Underworld court—and those of you in the Underworld court have much to learn from them, as well.” He paused for a few seconds and just looked
at me. “I know this was a lot to take in.”

  “How do you know it’s true?” I asked.

  “Two ways,” he answered. “First, the story I just told you is the story that’s been handed down for centuries regarding Luce and his rise to power.”

  “And second?”

  “I saw it.”

  “You saw it?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “Through fae enchantment and power, I was able to see a recreation of the truth of what happened. And it’s just as I told you.”

  I nodded. Whatever history the fae had taught Dureau, I was sure it was true. Luce was a liar, and always had been.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bryn

  Dureau and I stood in the forest, keeping perfectly silent for a minute or two. The sun was already on its descent and the sky was growing darker by the minute. The wind moved through the trees, shaking the branches and rattling the leaves.

  “Let’s head back,” I said, feeling a chill in the air.

  “Do you know what my dream is?” he asked, and I looked up at him. “I’ve always dreamed of uniting each of the magical nations and the magical species they collectively contain. If we worked together… the things we could accomplish!”

  “I mean, a lot, but—”

  “Imagine a world with no war, where we could focus instead on making progress in the level of enchantments we’re able to place, the strength of the spells we cast, the value of the lessons we teach our magical youth… what if we focused on that, instead?”

  I smiled sadly, knowing that achieving Dureau’s dream would be an uphill battle and, quite honestly, I seriously doubted whether it was even possible. “You would have made a good king, yourself,” I pointed out, surprising myself when I realized I truly meant it.

  Dureau shook his head emphatically, removing any need for him to expressly reject my opinion. “Lady Bryn, the Chevaliers have been diplomats for generations,” he started. “We are not heads of state ourselves, but instead aim to further their goals.”

  “Well, it’s a compliment, all the same.”

  He nodded, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. “I’ve fantasized about the possibilities of a unified magical community, without factions led by power-hungry liars, for a long time. I know how outlandish the idea of uniting enemies is, though.”