by Maggie Ryan
Only my wife could be handed an enchanted blade, throw it successfully into a tree on her third attempt, and not faint as it disappeared into thin air. My heart soared. It was as I had always suspected; Cassandra was born for this life.
The irrational guilt I had carried for our entire marriage began to melt. The weight of the knowledge that Cassandra had paired herself to a demon-fighting animal had been heavy in my heart. It was healing to see her doing so well at Ravensloft. Perhaps there was such a thing as destiny.
Approaching Cassandra, I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her close. “You look striking,” I murmured into her ear. “And even better with a blade in your hand, princess.”
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone bright with excitement as she gazed upon me. “Thanks,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Baal is a wonderful teacher”—she cut a glance at Baal—“when he’s not giving me a hard time. I had no idea I could do such a thing,” she mused, surveying her tree.
Having observed my wife’s practice from the library window, hair in her face, I had asked Aunt Margaret for something to tie it back with. “Turn,” I said, taking the red leather cord from my pocket. Throwing a curious glance at me, Cassandra turned her back to me. Taking her long hair into my hands, I tied the cord onto a lock of her hair, then separated her hair into three sections. Twisting the pieces together, I braided the cord into her hair. When I was satisfied by my work, I took another red cord from my pocket, winding it tightly around the bottom half of the braid. Her auburn hair was intertwined with red, beautiful and away from her face. “Now you can see properly,” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders, rotating her toward me.
Shyly, Cassandra’s hand went to her hair, touching the cords. “Thank you.” She flushed. A mischievous look crossed her face. “Watch this one,” she whispered, plucking another dagger from a line of them laid out nearby.
On the tips of her toes, Cassandra turned from me. Whirling through the air, she spun. When she was a few meters from the trunk, she leapt toward the tree, her arm coming across her body, her hand releasing the dagger just before her feet fell to the ground.
Thunk! The dagger hit the trunk, splitting the cracked tree open wider. Again, the blade vanished.
“Impressive,” I said. Seeing the smile on her face and lightness in her gait momentarily lifted the weight of worry I carried. Cassandra was even more herself in training than in the courtroom. She would do well in battle. If I allowed her to participate.
As if reading my thoughts, Draco appeared by my side. Crossing his arms over his chest, his stance wide, he spoke low, in his cool manner. “Deo. You see what I see. She must fight.”
“If you are her protector,” I said, keeping my eyes on Cassandra as she continued to practice, “why are you so eager to thrust her into danger?”
“Guardian,” Draco quietly corrected me.
“Then guard her.” I turned toward him; his eyes remained on Cassandra. “Leave the decisions of my wife’s fate to rest with me.”
Meeting my eyes, Draco shook his head, his tone low but with a power that couldn’t be ignored. “A guardian does not only protect from danger. It is my duty to guide Cassandra to be her full self.” His face an emotionless mask, he turned his attention back to his ward.
Glancing over her shoulder to see if I was watching her next move, Cassandra saw Draco and me standing together. We must have appeared quite tense. Worry creased her brow.
I quickly placed a smile on my face. “Excellent work,” I called to her. Her forehead smoothed, the light returning to her eyes.
“Show Deo the crossover you practiced with Baal,” Draco called. He kept his tone light, but a look of determination was beginning to etch itself onto his smooth face.
Giving a little nod to Draco, Cassandra turned her body fully toward me and her guardian, lining her back up with her practice tree, five meters from where it stood. Cassandra gave us a nervous smile; it was obvious she wanted to please us both.
Teeth biting into her bottom lip in the most adorable fashion, my wife took a moment to focus her energy. Feet shoulder width apart and planted firmly in the ground, Cassandra tightened the grip she had on the blade in her right hand. Left arm hanging loose, she bent her knees. Closing her eyes and giving herself an encouraging nod, like a flash, her torso twisted, right arm flying around the center of her body and over her shoulder. Feet still in place, she released the blade.
Undetectable by her, as Cassandra released the blade from her hand, a violet-hued field of subtle, luminous radiation emitted from the body of my wife. The color surrounded her, a purple, hazy, brilliant cloud. Her aura.
I watched the sparkling metal of the dagger fly, hitting the target. Crack. The split opened further, and the tree was now in two equal parts.
Shooting me a quick, meaningful glance, Baal jogged over to the tree. “Good for you!” he shouted, slapping my wife’s open hand in an American ‘high five’.
The outer edge of the mauve radiance slowly faded, reaching toward Cassandra’s body, then vanished completely. It was gone as quickly as it had come. But there was no mistaking it.
“Thank you,” Cassandra breathed, slapping Baal’s hand. Her eyes looked to mine, desiring my praise.
Arranging my face in what I hoped to be a mask of encouragement, I said, “Beautiful. Well done, princess.” Swallowing hard, I waited for her to turn away from me.
Flashing me a bright smile, Cassandra went back to Baal, chatting excitedly about her progress.
I stared at Draco.
Arms still crossed over his chest, Draco’s eyes never left Cassandra. There was a satisfied look on his face. I wanted to claw it off. Not smugness but pure satisfaction, the kind that said, ‘I told you so,’ without a word. He would not glance my way.
“It was momentary, but it was there,” Draco said, watching as Cassandra examined the scar in her tree, running her fingertips over the division.
“I saw it with my own eyes, Draco,” I admitted, defeated.
Cassandra had summoned her aura. She must fight.
No longer able to watch, I left the courtyard.
* * *
To my surprise, Andrew was not proving to be as hopeless as I had assumed. Climbing to the inner ward above the basilica, I was greeted by the sight of Andrew and Alekos in hand-to-hand combat. Sparring, they made their way down the narrow, wall-enclosed upper courtyard.
Alekos, holding back his full skill as he was partnered with a mere mortal, was still fully engaged. Andrew’s hands shot out, lightning fast, each strike blocked by Alekos. Seeing me out of the corner of his eyes, Alekos called, “Halt.” Shaking hands with Andrew, he said, “Nice form.”
Bent over with hands on his knees, catching his breath, Andrew replied, “Thanks, man. I’ve trained in the art of taekwondo since I was old enough to walk. I love anything to do with martial arts. It fascinates me. It’s been a pleasure to be able to practice again.”
Hearing my approach, Andrew straightened, glaring at me. A look of pure hatred and revulsion crumpled his classic facial features.
“Well done, Andrew,” I said graciously
“Deo,” the boy said coldly. His blond hair stood on end, blue eyes flashing at me.
“Would you do me the honor of sparring?” I asked. In my suit, sans jacket, I was not dressed for the occasion, but it wouldn’t matter as minimum effort would be put forth on my part.
Andrew sized me up, ready for a challenge. His jaw set, unwavering, he said, “I would love nothing more.” A cocky grin spread across his young face.
Standing legs spread and feet firmly planted, I removed my cufflinks, tucking them safely into the pocket of my trousers. Rolling up my sleeves, I smiled. Yes, he might be well-trained, but the poor boy had no idea what he was dealing with.
Andrew stood in the Joon Bi Stance, facing me; his feet shoulder length apart, his arms bent hanging by his waist, hands formed in fists. A look of sheer determination was on his
face. I almost laughed, but rudeness is one of the things I cannot tolerate.
“Ready?” Alekos stood beside us as we faced off. Catching my eye, Alekos gave me a look of warning, mouthing the words, “Go easy.”
Giving Alekos a nod, I answered, “Ready.” Widening my stance, I brought my hands to my face. I would not use my powers to spar. They would not be needed.
“Ready,” Andrew said. Bending his knees and not wasting a moment, Andrew kicked his right leg forward, straight at my jaw.
Sensing his move, I bent back slightly, avoiding the blow.
Frustrated, Andrew returned his foot to the ground, resuming his stance.
“Again,” Alekos called, his worried eyes cutting to me.
I waited. Andrew sized me up, moving around me, keeping his form and plotting his next move. My hands still before my face, I moved counterclockwise across from him, step for step.
Andrew was faster than I’d anticipated. Throwing a right leg back kick at me, Andrew almost touched me. Shifting to his left, I moved into his open side. Bringing my leg up, I curbed my strength to deliver a roundhouse kick.
Caught off guard by the speed of my movement, and already off balance from his attempted back kick, Andrew fell to the ground.
Giving me a wary look, Alekos called softly, “Point.”
I reached out my hand to help Andrew from the ground.
His eyes shot daggers at me, slapping my hand away. From his haunches, he sprang up toward me, tackling me around my waist, pulling me to the ground.
Landing on my side, I quickly shifted my weight, pinning his shoulders to the ground. In my haste, my elbow jabbed the corner of his mouth.
“You want to spar, or you want to fight?” I growled at him.
“Deo,” Alekos said sharply.
The boy loathed me; I could see it in his blue eyes. Giving my opponent one last hard look, I released his shoulders with a shove. Andrew lay on the ground, his eyes burning into mine as he dabbed at his bloodied lip.
Brushing the dirt and leaves from my trousers, I looked down at the pup. “Training to conquer a sport is one thing. Training because the very lives of your pack, those you love depend on your skills, is another.” Slowly I unrolled my sleeves, reinserting my cufflinks, as Andrew rose from the ground.
Andrew stood across from me, hands on his trim hips. His stony gaze bored into mine and yet he said nothing.
“I’ll walk you out,” Alekos murmured, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me away from the courtyard. When we were out of earshot of the pup, he said, “Did you have to make him bleed, Deo? Geeze. As if things aren’t complicated enough. I can’t have you added to the list of things I have to protect mankind from.”
“You are right, little brother. The elbow was a childish move. Forgive me.”
Alekos chuckled. “I think you are apologizing to the wrong man.” When I said nothing, my brother shook his head, slapped my shoulder, and then returned to his student.
As I watched the men prepare to spar, Andrew threw a hard glance my way. I left the courtyard, silence following in my wake. There would be retribution for my actions with Andrew, I had no doubt. After all, a pup choosing to challenge a wolf in a pack was timeless—fruitless, as Andrew was a mere mortal, but only natural. Remembering the fire in his eyes as we’d sparred and the looks he continued to shoot my way, I had to grin. He might be a pup, but he was a man wanting to prove himself and, for that, I had to respect the boy.
Chapter Eleven
Ten days later
Deo
Every day, long hours were spent in intensive training. Skills were improving daily, but the schedule was taking its toll. Dinner that night was quiet. The team was too tired, or too overwhelmed, to speak. I sat at the head of the table, the tines of my fork piercing the delicate flesh of the fish before me. Cassandra had not touched her food, and looked as if she would fall asleep in her plate.
Sensing my gaze, her warm eyes looked to me, giving me a weak smile.
“Eat, my love,” I quietly admonished.
Dutifully, she speared at a piece of fish, popping it into her mouth. Chewing slowly, Cassandra gave me an impish look.
“Good girl,” I said, enjoying the flush that rose in her cheeks. I would not apologize for my terms of endearment, or my reminders to behave no matter how they made others feel. One good thing about the relentless routine was that my wife was settling into our new life. She continued to be spirited, her sass appearing throughout the days, but she’d been too busy, too tired to be naughty. It had been over a week since I’d needed to take her over my knees. A look or a quietly spoken reminder about the plug waiting for her upstairs had been enough to curb any problem before it became necessary to correct with a spanking.
My eyes touched on Andrew. Ravenous, he was devouring the meal Aunt Margaret had laid before him. “Hungry, this one,” she had chuckled amicably as she refilled his plate while he gave murmurs of thanks. Surprisingly, she was warming to the boy.
Cynthia was seated beside Baal, chatting over dinner. In her hands, she held a purple crystal. It glittered against her fair skin. Leaning in closer than was necessary, Baal ran a finger over her palm, explaining the violet charm’s properties and abilities. Her blue eyes were locked on Baal, mesmerized as much by his face as she was the magic that she held. Despite my original trepidations, it seemed the outsiders were fitting in among us. There was no way they could fully understand what was coming, but perhaps they knew enough to realize that what we were facing was vital for the good of all of us… for mankind.
Draco sat to my left, across from Cassandra, as always. His face expressionless, he carefully tucked away the greens and meat on his plate, his wary eyes darting up to my bride every other moment or so. When she would catch his eye, Cassandra would shoot him a friendly smile. Once, he returned the look with his own soft grin. Guardian and princess were becoming friends, and I found I was glad. The more comfort my wife had in this trying time, the better.
Alekos sat beside Cassandra, Xander to his right. The protectors spoke in Greek, their voices hushed. Tired as she was, they could have been speaking in English and Cassandra would not have overheard the deadly words coming from their mouths. I knew Alekos was discussing the timeframe with which Xander must leave us, and from what I gathered of his words, it was soon.
Suddenly, Baal’s face whipped from Cynthia’s to mine, his features tightening, his brow narrowing as he spoke. “Deo, we have guests.”
“So we have,” I replied, now able to hear the crunch of tires over gravel. “That will be Artem.”
At the sound of the powerful name, Xander, Alekos, and Draco looked to me. Xander’s young face was smooth, his hair falling over one eye as he locked his intense gaze with mine. As I gave a nod of my head, he bid Alekos farewell and slipped from the table, toward the rear exit of the room.
“Time is nearing,” I said quietly. Cassandra’s green eyes widened as she gazed into mine. I did not detect fear in her emerald irises, but there was a touch of uncertainty. She did not feel she was prepared for what was coming. Placing my hand over hers, I assured her, “We will all be well, my love.”
Excusing himself from the table, Baal rose and left the dining room to greet our guests. I stood from my seat, and the others followed suit, Andrew looking uncertainly to his left, then right before joining us. Moving over to Cassandra, I wrapped my arm protectively around my insecure wife, hoping to bring her some peace. She quickly wrapped her arms around my torso, nuzzling her head into my chest. “All is well, babygirl,” I murmured into her ear. “All is well.”
A few quiet moments later, Baal poked his head into the wide doorway. His long hair was swept back, his green eyes sparkling, and a wide grin spread across his face. “It is Artem, and he has brought Dolly,” Baal said before ducking back out of the dining room to retrieve our guests.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Artem was much more relaxed in his wife’s presence, though he rarely allowed her to travel
with him.
Peering up at me from her secure place underneath my arm, Cassandra whispered, “Who are Artem and Dolly?”
“My aunt and uncle,” I answered, keeping my voice light. “They stepped in when my parents passed away. Helped me raise Alekos. Dolly was like a second mother to us, some years ago.”
Baal was back. With him, standing arm in arm, were a couple in their early fifties. My Uncle Artem, though shorter than us and having grown stouter in the last few years, stood proud, commanding respect by his presence alone. His once dark hair was now silver, his bronzed skin creased with slightly more wrinkles than before. I was relieved to detect a small smile on his stoic face.
“Well, hey, y’all!” Dolly unattached herself from her husband’s arm, flashing the room a bright, broad smile, waving a porcelain hand. Blonde and silver curls bounced as she teetered over to Cassandra on strappy metallic high-heeled sandals. Even in the heeled shoes, Dolly stood a head shorter than Cassandra, as she grabbed my wife into a hug.
A smile of surprise and delight came over Cassandra’s face. Dolly’s enthusiasm was infectious. She brought a lightness to the dark castle. Wrapped in a loud, floral-print dress, Dolly’s looks did not fit in at Ravensloft, but it always felt homier in her presence.
“This must be the lovely Cassandra,” she cried, smoothing a hand familiarly over Cassandra’s shiny locks. Her cornflower blue eyes locked on mine. “Deo, she is more beautiful than you described. Now how can that be possible?” Not waiting for an answer, Dolly took her attention from me, grabbing both of Cassandra’s hands in hers. “That man was so stuck on you. I swear when he first met you, that was all we heard about—Cassandra this, Cassandra that. He could not wait for your wedding day.”
Rarely embarrassed, I felt an unfamiliar flush rise in my neck. “And may I greet you, or am I chopped liver in my wife’s breathtaking presence?” I asked, reaching my arms out to embrace Dolly.
