by S. D. Grimm
“Jayden.” Ryan smiled. “I have to go. Would you walk me out?”
She straightened her spine. “Of course.”
He held out his elbow for her to slip her arm into his. She did, and he watched her with his eyebrow cocked as he led her outside. Cool evening air brushed against her skin. The storm’s rage had calmed, leaving a gentle patter of rain. Ryan stopped on the porch under the overhang and faced her. Rain hit the roof above, reminding her of the passage of time as she stood there hesitating.
“Ryan—” It was time to let him down gently and tell him how she felt about his brother. She could only hope for his blessing. “I need to talk to you.”
“It’s about time.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to say anything.” He stared at her, a smile blossomed on his face. “I know where your heart is, Jayden. You tell Ethan to take care of you.”
“Ryan?” How did he feel? He seemed fine. She forced herself to meet his gaze and opened her talent. No sadness. Contentment was strongest. Happiness even throbbed from him. How? Maybe he’d never—
He grabbed her hands and squeezed. “Jayden, I’ll always love you, and I know you love me, too, but it’s not the same kind of love as you have for Ethan, is it?”
Her heart hammered like a bird watching the door to its cage open. A bird about to be freed. “No.”
His lazy smile filled his face. He kissed her forehead. “A guy can never have too many sisters.”
“Oh, Ryan. Thank you.” She was weightless, like a cloud freed from rain.
He leaned in and wrapped her in a hug. His heart beat in her ear. It didn’t sound broken. “You have my permission to move on. Even with Ethan. Especially with Ethan.”
She searched his emotions. Happiness under the surface broke free and filled every vein. Then he smiled. “I’ll see you soon.”
Jayden stood there and watched him leave. Her heart had been freed. And Ryan wasn’t hurt that she’d fallen for his brother. She’d gotten everything she wanted. She stared into the darkness that had swallowed Ryan. Serena was right. Letting go of that emotional war made her feel better.
She watched leaves fall as the mild wind pulled them from the branches. They were between storms now, but the rain still fell, light and steady. The scent of wet trees, sodden soil and displaced worms filled the night.
A breeze blew into her, swirled her hair around her, and wrapped her in the sweet touch of the approaching storm. She leaned against the porch railing, closed her eyes, and breathed in. Her heart felt as free as the storm.
The sound of the tavern door closing registered in the back of her mind, and she glanced over her shoulder.
Ethan stood a few paces behind her.
Warmth rushed through her and she froze, facing him. “Hello, stranger.”
“Stranger?” His familiar lopsided smile warmed his face.
“You’ve been avoiding me all night.”
“Avoid—no. What makes you say that?”
She leaned back against the railing and smiled. “A different woman for every song. Stone Wolf has certainly made an impression on the young women of Balta. Doesn’t he have room for his other friends?”
He laughed uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head. “One Eye has this thing about dancing being like sword fighting.” He took a tentative step toward her. Ethan, tentative?
“And is he right?”
That uncomfortable laugh returned, and he seemed to struggle with an answer. Then he looked into her eyes. “I suppose it depends on who you’re dancing with.”
Silence seemed to stretch the space between them. She should ask him for a dance. Heavens knew she wanted to dance with him. She just wanted to be near him. But he hadn’t offered at her subtle prodding. Did that mean he didn’t want to?
He joined her at the railing and rested his elbows on it. “Another storm coming?” He smiled. It was such a small smile, but that only made it seem more intimate.
“I thought that was my talent.”
“I just notice how happy you seem to get right before a storm.”
He did? “You still hate them?”
He glanced at his hands and shrugged in response. Then, very quietly, he added, “They’re not as bad as they used to be.” His eyes met hers and his gaze was intense. Soul-searching.
The soft push and pull of his emotions seemed to bring her closer like a tide. Contentment pulled. Regret pushed. A quiet war inside him.
What did he regret?
She didn’t realize she’d gravitated nearer to him until her hand brushed his. He didn’t move away. His gaze still held her captive. Her blood ignited. The air turned electric. What if he knew how she felt? What if she told him?
“Ethan?”
“Yes?”
Her heart raced. He leaned closer. Warmth encompassed her.
The door opened, bathing them in candlelight. “Is everything all right out here?” A red-headed, full-busted woman poked out of the doorway. Francesca.
Ethan backed away, letting cool air swirl around Jayden, and she groaned. Actually groaned.
He stared at her, a hint of a lopsided smile returning. “Everything’s fine. We just needed some fresh air,” he said to Francesca while staring at Jayden. “We’ll be right in.”
“Good. You haven’t danced with me in a while.” She batted her long eyelashes, then made a show of swinging her hips as she walked back in.
Ethan led Jayden toward the door and opened it for her. “I did agree to dance with whomever could keep up, you know.” A mix of emotions pulsed through him like whitecaps hitting stone, and it winked out before she could untangle it. Then he dropped his gaze and turned toward the dance floor.
“Ethan?” Jayden touched his arm.
He turned back to her. “Yes?”
“Save a dance for me?”
“Anything for you. Anything.”
He turned to go, but Jayden just stood there. Heat flushed her cheeks. A joy gushed forth from her heart. She couldn’t stop the smile that hit her as she watched Francesca practically drag Ethan onto the dance floor.
Love. Of course. That was Ethan’s mix of emotions. He loved her.
Her heart beat like a thousand wild horses racing through a thunderstorm.
Ethan looked up and caught her eye. He was about to look away, but she smiled at him. That small smile returned, and he didn’t break eye contact even as he twirled the flirting Francesca around as if she were a feather.
Jayden sighed. She wanted to laugh. Ethan loved her.
Eventually the music changed. The evening’s festivities would be ending. People were clearing out. Another song over, Serena, Ethan, and Logan made their way to where she was standing. Ethan and Serena walked together, laughing. Serena wore the dreamy look of one who had danced a magical night away, and her emotions were oozing with contentment and complete bliss, but Jayden’s face didn’t flush with jealousy.
Serena glanced at Jayden, the smile still on her face. “I think it’s time for me to get some rest. But I’ll wait for you, Jayden, if you’re going for another round.”
“Just one.” Jayden turned toward Ethan and held out her hand. His eyes opened wide. Had he doubted her desire to dance with him? “You promised.”
Ethan’s return stare was soulful.
“All right.” Serena rose. “Bring her back safe.”
He didn’t take his eyes off of Jayden. “Always.”
“I’ll retire, too.” Logan nodded toward his daughter.
Serena eyed her father. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“You don’t have to remind me, Miss Swallow. But that won’t keep me from being one room away.” They walked upstairs together.
Jayden took Ethan’s hand in hers and towed him toward the remaining dancers. The night was ending, so the musicians started to play a less lively tune, “The Princess and the Pauper.” A sad song, mostly in minor chords, about a princess who couldn’t marry the man she loved bec
ause he wasn’t royalty.
She reached the floor, faced Ethan, and dipped into a curtsy. He bowed but didn’t take his eyes off of her. They circled one another, hands suspended in the air, palm facing palm, not quite touching. It symbolized how the Princess and the Pauper were just out of reach of one another.
Ethan cast a fleeting look into Jayden’s eyes. Just before he looked away, she smiled, hoping to trap his gaze. It worked, but he didn’t smile back. The intensity in his stare heightened. Captivated her.
She studied his face, the deep swirls of dark brown in his chestnut eyes, the two moles on his right cheek, little details that she typically admired from afar. Or with secret glances. This time, nothing inhibited her. She wanted him to see how she felt. If he had her talent, she’d make sure her emotions were open to him.
He grabbed her hand now. Strong and gentle at the same time.
And she slipped her other hand on his shoulder. Pulled him closer.
He didn’t resist.
Neither of them said a word. But his gaze remained on her. As if he were reading her soul.
She listened to the beat of his emotions, the perfect mix of so many feelings blended together. She’d never felt anyone have this kind of love toward her. It was . . . beautiful.
She didn’t even think about the dance steps anymore, just let him lead her across the floor, and it was effortless.
The last strum ended the song and Ethan dropped her hand.
Jayden laced her fingers behind his back, keeping him close. “Thank you, Ethan.”
He smiled, even if it was only half of a smile, and his eyes narrowed. “Something changed tonight?”
Jayden smiled. “Yes.”
“Didn’t things go well with Ryan?”
“Better than hoped.”
Ethan nodded curtly and backed out of her arms. He glanced at the floor. “Must be hard for you to leave him again.”
“I’ll see him soon.” She reached for his hand again, but he scratched the back of his head. “Ryan wanted me to tell you to take care of me.”
“I’m sure he did.”
“Ethan.” This time she caught his hand. He managed to look like a wounded animal in a trap. “Ryan knows—”
“He does? Jayden, if you want me to leave—”
“Leave?” She drew nearer. “Ryan knows my heart isn’t his.”
“It—it’s not?” He was trembling. Or was it her?
“He says you won’t be betraying him.” Her hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, rested in the dip of his collarbone, drawing him closer.
A moth couldn’t have flown between them.
His palms pressed against her waist, her hips. Warm. Strong. She touched the back of his neck and didn’t have to coax him any more than that. Ethan leaned in and Jayden closed her eyes as his lips touched hers. He cupped her neck in his hand. Both hands. His thumbs brushed her cheeks and her heart thundered, melted, ached. She leaned into him, closer and not close enough. Tugged his shirt collar, and his arms wrapped around her back. Pulled her against him. Heavens, he was strong.
Her fingers slid up his neck, into his hair. The din of the tavern quieted. Low burning candles snuffed out. There was no sound except the approaching thunder and rain pelting the ceiling like Ethan’s emotions on her heart.
And she opened her talent.
Desire, longing, hunger, she felt it all, like she felt every brush against her skin, every new touch against her lips. And she wanted more.
Chapter 56
A Fuel
for Vengeance
Connor headed to the palace library first. He needed a way to save Madison. Now. Chances were, he’d have to leave after using the bracer, because when questions started arising, fingers would point back to him. The sooner he left, the better.
He’d have to be very careful which books he was seen looking at, but it was one he’d read before. Problem was, he’d read hundreds.
Once in the library, he headed toward a specific shelf. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to use the ladder. He didn’t think he could climb one right now. The burn on his side made every movement agony. What about this one? He touched the spine of a leather cover. Embossed letters read Dark Spells. He pulled it off the shelf and headed to a table.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
Kara. Of course she’d be here to taunt him. Well, better get it over with.
She sat next to him. “What are you reading today?”
“You don’t have to share books with me.”
“But you’re always reading the book I want.”
“So we have one common interest.”
She leaned over and slid the book from his grasp. “This one looks good.” Her fisted hand shot toward his injured side. He spun in his seat and caught her wrist in both of his hands, but the movement tore at his burned skin and he couldn’t hide his grimace.
She stared at her trapped arm. “So it was you.”
“What are you talking about?” He released her and took the book back.
“Maybe you should see Madison about that burn.”
“Who’s Madison?” He thumbed a few more pages.
“Don’t play dumb. I know it was you waiting outside the door, little spy. You can’t even sit up straight.”
He closed the book over his arm and glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did you know Madison killed my sister?” Her return glare was harsh.
“No, she didn’t.”
Kara leaned back one vertebra at a time. Like a strike of lightning, she shifted toward him, grabbed his shirt collar, and the sharp prick of a knife pressed into his injured side. “Talk.”
He pulled away, but her grip on his collar tightened. “You don’t need to do that. I’m going to tell you.”
Slowly she released him.
He eased back in the chair and pivoted to face her in case she tried anything again. “Your sister came to me and asked me to tell you something. Her message was so cryptic until now. She pulled out her seeing stone the day she was killed. I saw it happen. Madison wasn’t even there.”
“You’re just telling me this now?”
“She told me to wait.”
She pointed the knife at him again. “My sister told you she was going to die?”
This time he grabbed her wrist and growled. If she wanted to see what he’d be like as a wolf, she’d see it. “Will you let me tell you the whole story, please?”
She must have sensed the change in his behavior because a hint of her smirk returned. As if she dared him to take her on.
He released her. “When your sister was killed, I watched it happen in the stone. Before she left for Meese, she told me that I’d need to tell you what happened to her, but I had to wait until after I saw you at your most vulnerable. I figured seeing you dead on the floor counted as ‘most.’ She said everything would make sense to me, and it does. She must have had the gift of foresight.”
Still didn’t mean he’d toss his mother out a window.
Kara leaned back in her chair. “She told me her talent was to know certain things about people, like what they were meant to become. I wanted to think that was true. The gift of foresight killed my father. Those with the gift generally don’t live long. Especially if they share their secret.” Her eyes turned hard. “Who killed her?”
“Franco.”
Heat flooded her eyes. She sheathed her weapon and got up.
He stood with her, in case she meant to strike him again, but the movement sent pain through his side and he leaned on the table for support. “Where are you going?”
“My sister left me a note. I’m going to make sure I complete it. And get my vengeance.”
“How will you do that?”
She cracked a smile as she turned to go. “Good little wolf, just keep playing your part, and I’ll play mine.” Then she stopped. All trace of her haughtiness faded. “I’m sorry I hurt you.” She darted out the door before he could respon
d.
He shook his head. She certainly was strange. He gingerly sat back down and flipped through the pages of the book. His burn throbbed with every heartbeat.
Here. Life-debt.
This is a powerful kind of tainted magic created after the fall of the Mistress. With this potion, one can bond oneself to Healers. All the person needs is a willing sacrifice—someone to die for them—but it must be someone they’ve betrayed. The person who becomes a life-debt forever links the person they die for to the Healer who brings him or her back to life. If that person should become injured, the Healers bound to them will heal those wounds—no matter where they are. Any Healer who heals one with a life-debt will become a slave to the bonded person. The Healer’s powers will be siphoned from them, sucking life from their years to give to the bonded individual. The only way to truly kill this individual would be to cut off his or her head. No ordinary weapon can do this, though. It has to be a weapon forged by a Wielder. And the head must then be burned.
Connor closed the book. So Madison was bound to Franco through Kara. Every time Madison healed the king, it would take away from her powers. Suck life from her bones.
That settled it. Maybe he would get his mother out of here and stay at the palace.
As soon as Connor placed the bracer on his wrist, a heavy feeling of dread shrouded him like a layer of grime. He crept down the hall toward Franco’s quarters, every movement agony. Oswell hadn’t been in his own room. Perhaps he’d been summoned by the king? Before he entered, a sound caught his ear. Someone crying? He approached the entrance to Franco’s room and glanced in.
The king wasn’t here. Neither was Oswell. There, on the floor, huddled in a heap on her knees, was the same young Healer. She gasped and sat up. Her eyes were wet and red-rimmed. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her tattered sleeve. Her other hand was chained to Franco’s bed.
Connor’s heart thudded. What was the king planning to do to her? Had he already done it?
Madison shrank away from Connor, her eyes huge.
He held out his hand. “I won’t hurt you.”
She just stared at him as if he were a walking ghost.
“Did—” Connor motioned to the bed. “Did he hurt—”
