by N P Hector
This man is so paternal. I feel like I’m being scolded by my grandfather.
“OR, you can give the bond a chance and walk away knowing that you had an open mind. The soulmate bond is a beautiful, rare thing. It would be a shame to walk away without knowing it. But that is your choice.”
With that said, he opened the door and gestured for her to step inside. Her heels clipped along the marble flooring, the sound echoing throughout the vast room with high ceilings. She stopped when she saw Romulus stop mid pace by the table.
Frederik bowed and introduced her formally, “Miss Ashford, Sir.”
When she looked at Romulus her breath escaped her and she felt that the room was suddenly too small. Romulus was dressed in dark pants and a black turtleneck with an equally dark blazer. His hair had been left loose to flow freely. Now, it rested against like white silk against his shoulders. It was pin straight. That type of hair shouldn’t have looked so good on a man, but he was so strong and rugged that it made him seem – uncivilized almost.
That was only amplified by how uncomfortable he looked wearing the blazer. She could already see his shoulders moving under the jacket, and she could tell that he was unfamiliar with having his movement so restricted. But despite the air of ruthlessness his manners were polished. He bowed at the waist to honor her entrance and then nodded to Frederik. The elderly man closed the door and suddenly they were alone.
The shadow of the moon lit the room through the floor to ceiling wall of glass. The large chandelier’s crystals absorbed the firelight from the many candles lighting the room and re-cast them as warm flashes of opulence. She felt very, very tiny in such a large space.
He seemed to notice her hesitancy. He growled out, “please, join me” and pulled out a regal, high backed chair at the end of the table. It was high backed and seemed to be made of sturdy wood. Most of the furniture she owned was basically compressed sawdust and came with easy to follow diagrams for assembly.
She gathered the skirt of her dress in an attempt to not trip and land flat on her face. When she was close enough to smell the sandalwood of his skin and to the see light flashing off his deep, dark eyes he extended a hand to her.
Not wanting to appear as a coward, she lifted her chin and offered her hand. She withdrew quickly at the electric shock that seemed to pass between them. He guided her gently into the chair. When she was seated he rested his hands on the back of her chair and edged her closer to the table.
He took a seat at the table. His eyes looked her up and down. She reached for her glass of water and took a delicate sip. The silence was finally broken when he asked, “did Joan give you that dress or did Frederik deliver it?”
She glanced down at the gown and then back at him. “Frederik. Why?”
He gave her a wry smile and explained, “your gown is littered with tiny stars. Ironic, don’t you think?” The fated bond was the last thing that she wanted to talk about. She felt like talking to this man was like talking to a brick wall. Every time she offered an explanation for why they couldn’t be together he just repeated that they were fated. When she said nothing he leaned forward and switched to a more comfortable topic. “So, how are you liking your accommodations?”
She nodded and felt it odd that they were exchanging pleasantries when they had this oddity between them. An elephant in the room. But she much preferred this to the other discussion. “They’re very nice. Thank you. I do miss the books in my apartment, though. That’ll be the first thing I organize when this is all over and I can go back.”
Frederik strode in through the great doors and set steaming bowls of soup before them. The room was silent as he set the plates down and then disappeared. Romulus didn’t touch the plate before him. Instead he asked, “you’re a reader, are you? I have an extensive library here. It’s yours to use when you please.”
Now that piqued her interest. Her house was too small for a whole room dedicated as a library, but she always told herself that when she settled down and wanted more space (when she wasn’t at work until 9pm everyday) that she’d build her own library. But that was a long way down the road.
Taking a spoonful of soup, she breathed over it to cool it down. They had exchanged as many casual pleasantries as she could stand. Selene suffered from a sort of discomfort with holding back what she was thinking. She likened it to vomit. When you’re nauseous and you think that you’re going to be sick, it’s always better to just get it over with and throw up. The sooner you get the nastiness out of the way the sooner you’ll feel better. At least that’s what she told herself.
So now, sitting across from Romulus, she felt the need to get the unfortunately question out of the way. “So, why is Kem so determined to kill me, anyways? Surely, he’s not interested in a lowly hostage negotiator. He has bigger fish to fry.”
Romulus rested his forearms on the table and used his thumbs to point to himself. “Like me?”
“Like you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Not exactly light dinner conversation. Are you always this bold?” When she simply sipped at her soup he groaned and answered, “I told you, you’ve rescued a few of his minion’s targets. He needs his people as strong as possible to overthrow the Order. And when you keep them from killing their fated it prevents them from absorbing and therefore doubling their power.”
There were tiny little cracks in his calm veneer. “Mmm...I get the strong sense that there’s more to that story.”
When he swirled the wine in his glass and remained silent, his dark eyes boring into her own, she prodded further, “look, if you want me to trust you, you need to tell me everything. Even if you think it’s going to scare me away. Even if you think I don’t need to know. If we are truly soul mates then we need to be equals. In every sense of the word.”
His jaw clenched but he reluctantly agreed that she was right. This woman was proving to be just as powerful as some of his greatest warriors. He liked that she demanded that they be equals. He had treated Sorcha as an equal. He’d expect no less of this current reincarnation to demand the same.
It pleased him greatly, but he was reticent to reveal the more disturbing part of the story. “There was a legend attached to your birth in your previous life. When you reached majority you were to inherit great powers. But no one knew what your gift would be. We just knew that it would be unparalleled. Extraordinary.”
She scoffed at the promise that she was supposed to be a mystical, powerful being. She thought of all the times she had wished that a lightning bolt would strike down an arrogant ass at work. Of all the times her car tire had flattened and she’d have to call for a tow truck. “I can assure you that I have yet to experience any magik moments.”
“Because you haven’t reached majority.”
“Majority’s not 21?” she said sardonically, her lips curling upwards. Picking up her wine glass she swirled the liquid lazily. “Am I not allowed to drink this, then.”
He lifted his won glass in salute. She took that as a yes, she could drink alcohol in their world. “for alcohol, yes. For magik, no. To our species, the fae, we reach majority at 26. You’ll experience your powers then and not a moment earlier.”
Frederik swooped in to retrieve the dishes and then signaled servers to place a silver dish with salad in front of them. Selene smiled her thanks and brushed a napkin across her lap. The fabric of the napkin was almost as nice as some of her business clothes. Who were these people?
“Look, Romulus?”
“You may call me Rom.”
“Ok, Rom. I can tell you that I’m as human as can be. My mom lives in Connecticut and my dad passed when I was 14. I don’t have any wings, horns, or scales.” She stretched her arms out and pulled back the hair at her ear, as if to demonstrate her humanness.
“Well, you never let me inspect you.” He smirked at her and winked. “And the fae can look just like anyone else. There are no wings, scales, or tails involved. In fact, I can look at you and see the noble fae blood.”
“Noble?”
“Yes, noble. You are descended from the Queen of the Isle Fae.”
Exasperated, Selene gestured to the cutlery before them. “Whoa, whoa. There is nothing royal or noble about me. I don’t even know which fork to use!”
“I could care less about that. No one in this world thinks that etiquette gives you power. If that were the case, I would not be leading the order. They care for power, strength, and wits. All of which you have in spades.”
Her stomach fluttered at the compliment.
So what? He’s totally sexy and thinks you’re a badass. That doesn’t mean that you’re just going to jump into bed with him.
But man, did she want to.
She nibbled at her salad and found that she was enjoying dining with him. He was whip smart and quick to tease. He looked at her like he would rather eat her than the meal before him. She wanted to know more about him.
“So, how did you come to lead the Order? Everyone treats you like a King.”
He chuckled and the warm sound echoed through the room. “There are different factions of fae. Yours is monarchical, mine is strength based. We take the strongest warrior and strategist and elect them. They rule until they die or wish to retire to a quieter life. I inherited from Cassandra the Clever.”
Selene raised her eyebrows at the mention of a female leader. He had spoken about her reverently, almost fondly. “Cassandra?”
He nodded. “I never understood the fragility of human ego, that you would forsake the strongest leader for their sex. Cassandra the Clever chose to retire when she found her fated and wished to have children.”
The feminist in her rose at the implication that Cassandra could not have had it all, done it all. “She couldn’t do both?”
“This is a very stressful job and members of the Order faction find it difficult to reproduce. The stress of this position would have made conception even more difficult. Cassandra stepped down willingly and in favor of the next phase of her life. Not because she was a woman, or because he fated wanted her to do both. It’s just that they both recognized the intense workload associated with being a parent. So, she made her decision. I don’t give credence to the idea that she had to step down to be a mother. But I must respect her decision to step away from this” he opened his arms wide, “in favor of the immense responsibility of being a parent.” His eyes darkened slightly as he looked at her. “God knows I’d give all of this up in a heartbeat to have a family.”
She tried to pretend that she wasn’t affected by his regard for equality of the sexes. As a woman in a very male dominated field she liked that he advocated for a female leader. And she was tired of dating men claiming that they were a feminist or believed in equality, only to try to control what she ate or wore. It was exhausting.
Curious, she asked “So, Cassandra the Clever. What do they call you?”
He gave her a look that said are you sure you want to know?
He clenched his square jaw. “I earned my moniker long before I ascended to this position.”
“Is that common?”
He shook his head. There was a pregnant pause before he answered. “I earned it when I was still in training camp. They call me Romulus the Relentless.”
“The relentless? Why?”
He smiled, “Romulus the Regal was already taken.” At her glare he sighed, “if you really want to know…”
She nodded. “There was a boy in my first training class. We were all just a bunch of kids. I was put there because I had showed powers early and I was growing so quickly. The other boys were selected for the same reason.”
He refilled her wine glass and continued with his story. “There was this man, he was raised in the human world, acted out, and then someone from the Order noticed that he had gifts. He had been bouncing around between foster homes, so it was clear that he’d been left alone by someone of our kind. Unusual because children are so precious to us.”
He leaned back in his chair and seemed like the story weighed heavily on his broad shoulders.
“He petitioned to be sent to the camp and arrived halfway through my time there. The team noticed immediately that he was cagier than most. He went all out in sparring sessions and was prowling around like he’s got all this energy he can’t stand. A new guy came to the training camp. Gabriel. This man had tried out each year for three years, and finally made it that year. He was so proud to be accepted. His mom had been killed by minions and then his father followed shortly after. So, he was vengeful, but he was well rounded. He had a passion for justice. Always picking up extra weight that other people couldn’t carry. So, these men meet during training. They run into each other and it was immediately apparent that they were fated. I was jealous that they had found each other at such a young age. They were newly born soulmates.”
She nodded and picked at her meal. Truthfully, she was more interested in Rom’s story than dinner. “Gabriel was ecstatic. He knew what it meant. What he meant to the other person. But his fated had been raised in the human world, where they’re less tolerant of the form soulmates come in. In our culture, soulmates are to be revered. Gender could matter less. Our souls are celestial -- not contained to the human body or the biological sex assigned to that vessel.”
Selene rested her chin on her hand and sighed. “I wish the human world was more like that. I grew up in a small town and saw many people struggle to be accepted for who they were. There was nothing wrong with them, though others would try to make it seem so.”
“This young man had been raised in the same environment. So, he hated the person meant to be his fated. He was scared. But then he got mad. And he tried to kill Gabriel.”
Selene dropped her fork. She wasn’t expecting the story to take such a dark turn. She thought back to when she first learned that Rom believed she was his fated. It was absolutely terrifying. But she could never imagine trying to hurt him. She flinched at the thought. “What happened?”
“I had gone to Gabriel’s dorm room to speak with him. I knew something about what it was like to find your fated-- I had seen our history reflected in the pools. No one else at the training camp knew what it was like. So, I knocked on his door and grew suspicious when he didn’t answer. I heard something break, so I slammed my shoulder against the door. When I got through the door, I found Gabriel on the floor with a head wound. His fated was climbing out of the window.”
“That’s awful.”
“It was. We were at that training camp to hunt people who betrayed the sacred covenant of the fated. To take a gift like that and try to harm the one person who is your other half? Unacceptable.”
Selene moved closer, leaning in now. “So, was he ok? What did you do?”
“He was fine. Physically. Emotionally? I don’t know.” He paused and looked up at her. “And then I earned the moniker.”
“Relentless. Was it because you tried your best to heal Gabriel, or something like that?”
“He didn’t need it.”
“Then how’d you earn the title The Relentless?”
His eyes became flinty. “I tracked him down. The training camp was located in the middle of the woods and protected by a magical barrier so no one would find it. I knew he’d be somewhere in the woods.”
“So, you tracked him?” Her voice was puzzled. It was that easy to earn a title like that? Before the month was up she’d be Selene the Stumbling.
“I did. For two and a half weeks. In the middle of winter.”
She tried to picture this man as a young adult and couldn’t. Was he ever small, unsure, or scared?
“Why didn’t the trainers track him down?”
He reclined in his chair and stretched his arms at the back of his head. “Oh, they did. I just got there first.”
Wow.
“So, what did you do when you finally caught him?”
He smiled at this. Frederik returned to the dining table and removed their salad plates and offered them a steaming plate of roast duck and veget
ables. “Thanks for the dinner, Frederik. It looks delicious.” She smiled deeply. The older man blushed and bowed deeply out of appreciation for the praise. Selene looked at Romulus and encouraged him to continue.
“Well, I took him back to Gabriel and forced him to apologize. And then I handed him over to the trainers who quickly detained him.”
As she bit into the tender meat of perfectly cooked duck. Selene mulled over this new piece of information.
To be so passionate about justice, and at such a young age? Why?
He cut methodically into the duck breast. She swallowed her piece and then blurted out, “why?”
“Why did Frederik serve duck tonight?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “No, why did you do all of that for a boy you hardly knew?”
He looked into her eyes and explained, “it wasn’t right. He deserved justice.”
She hated to admit it, but she was really drawn to him after hearing that story. Most men she had dated wouldn’t even give up their seat on the bus for a pregnant woman or offer change to a homeless man.
And yet this man had pursued someone for three weeks in the middle of winter because he felt compelled to right a wrong.
A thought hit her suddenly.
“The round table”, she murmured. “You have a round table in the council room. Like King Arthur.”
He lifted his glass in a toast. “How perceptive you are.”
“Joan is the Joan of Arc. You can’t possibly tell me that you’re King Arthur.” She rubbed at her temples and groaned, “what’s next? Frederik is Frederik William I?”
He chuckled and offered her a sample of the wine Frederik had re-stocked. “No, no. I was inspired by his ideals-- King Arthur, that is-- not Frederik The Great.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “Roger did some research. From what I understand, you could have gone into any field of your choice. Why negotiation?”
“It was all the sexy movies about hostage negotiation. They really got to me.”
His eyes turned into steel and he spoke earnestly. “I don’t want the flippant answer you give everyone else. I really do want to know why you chose this field above all others.”
