by K. M. Raya
I let the moment go on for too long, so I force my gaze away and head towards my chambers once again. I’m exhausted and long for nothing but my bed. Entering the room, I kick my boots off and upon shutting the door, immediately peel my elvish woven white dress off my body and let it pool on the floor—not caring until the morning. I slip on a thin lace shift and unravel my braided red hair until the bright locks tumble down my back in silky curls that reach my hips.
After washing my face with cool water from the basin by my bed, I’m startled by the creaking of my door. Turning, I let out a relieved breath as a head of moonlit hair peeks around the frame. Thallan steps in and clicks the door shut behind him—latching it with a small snik of an iron chain. He stands there for a moment—tall, broad and powerful, but his face is downcast, and his silver eyes are weary.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” he whispers.
I sniff and look away, not wanting to see the regret in his eyes and feel sorry for him. What he’d done hurt me deeply. He should feel bad.
“You of all people should know better,” I snap.
He takes a few steps towards me and I find myself backing up, keeping space between us. “I don’t know what came over me, but you know I never meant to hurt you.”
I scoff. “Then why did you?” I ask. “You practically accused me of treason!” The idea causes rage to bubble inside of me. I’ve always remained loyal to the Veil and all it’s people—my people. I’ve never done a single thing that would suggest otherwise, and he knows it.
He raises his hands in a pacifying manner. “The mancer’s presence caught me off guard, I wasn’t prepared for the way you reacted to him.” He frowns. “I don’t trust his story.”
Sighing—the air leaves my body in a hurry as I lean slightly against the bedpost. “You don’t trust anybody.”
His full lips tip into a smirk. “I trust you.”
“Well then act like it,” I snap.
He comes closer, stripping his cloak from his shoulders and draping it over the hook near my washing basin. He wears a dark green tunic with the laces undone at the top, exposing his muscular, yet slender chest. His shirt tucks into black leather trousers and laced boots that reach his knees.
“I don’t want you to trust him either, Sera. He may have been a part of your life once, but he’s a man now...he’s a mancer.” He says it with a disgusted snarl to his lips and a wrinkle of his nose. My heart squeezes in my chest as I look away, knowing he’s right.
Taking a deep breath, my hands twist in my shift uncomfortably. “Something just doesn’t feel right. The Wesley I knew never would have fallen for Moran’s teachings. We grew up in my father’s castle together and saw firsthand what necromancy could do to a person…we watched countless people die on Moran’s orders. It makes no sense to me.” I frown, confusion clouding my mind. “Besides, I know that mark wasn’t there before the attack. Wesley and I spent practically every waking moment together—”
Thallan growls under his breath and I scoff at his possessiveness. “Not like that,” I assure him, but the glower doesn’t leave his face. “Wesley, Anya and I were inseparable. I would have noticed the brand. I never would have allowed our friendship to continue had I seen it.”
He grumbles, casting his eyes down and back up again, searching my face thoughtfully. “Did you love him?”
His question catches me off guard. It’s such a personal question I’d never expect from the cold Commander. “Love him how exactly? What are you asking me?” I raise a brow at the elf.
He groans deeply after running a hand over his face in exasperation. He strides the rest of the way over to me until my nose just about touches his chest. Reaching out a sure hand, he uses the tips of two fingers to raise my chin until I’m looking him in the eyes. “You know what I’m asking.”
I shiver under his fingertips as they move over my cheek—tucking a heavy section of hair behind my ear before cupping my face in his large palm. I shake my head slightly, casting my eyes downward. “Not like that I didn’t. We were only children...”
“But you could have, couldn’t you?” he asks, resignation and curiosity in his deep voice.
“Yes—”
His lips capture mine, coaxing a whimper from somewhere deep within me. His hands grip my shoulders, crushing my smaller body to his massive self until I can feel every inch of him. His lips are possessive and demanding and I can't help but give myself over to him. We’ve been dancing this dance for a while now—both of us knowing what it is that we want, while never fully committing to it. A few nights in each other’s bed makes us more than companions, but it’s all there’s ever been. He keeps himself separate from me, calling me friend but keeping me closer. Sometimes the way he looks at me when he doesn’t look away in time tells me he feels something stronger than lust. Sometimes his face looks…soft. My heart aches because I’ve always craved more. I need more and I don’t know how much longer I can play these games with him. But the way he holds me in his trembling arms—there's something so urgent about it. Wesley’s presence in the Veil seems to have woken something inside of my ice-cold elf...something I want to grasp onto and keep forever.
Tonight though, something feels too different. The way he kisses me is more urgent than ever—almost panicked. He tastes like elvish berry wine, but I know his mind is sound at the moment. His fingers still tremble on my skin as he backs me up towards my bed, but I break away from his lips and pull back. I can feel his need for me against my thigh and it only serves to make my insides flutter. Even after two years of this, touching his skin and tasting his lips never ceases to overwhelm me.
Placing a hand on his muscular chest, I stop him from going any further despite the way my body screams for him. “I can’t do this tonight, Thallan.” I turn away but he catches me by the wrist.
He groans deeply from the back of his throat as he runs his hands up my shivering arms. “Did I ruin things?” he asks with a pleading note in his voice. It throws me for a moment, because Thallan Myrinn is such a stoic warrior—rarely does he ever show his true emotions on the outside, but right now he’s open and vulnerable to me. I can see it in his eyes as they roam my face for answers.
Reaching up, I place my palm against his cheek, sliding my fingers along his skin until I reach the soft strands of his silvery hair. I sift through the silkiness and run the tips of my fingers over the pointed tip of his ear. His breath catches and his eyes darken. I pull back quickly, knowing I let this go too far tonight. My emotions are too jumbled, I’m not thinking clearly. Wesley’s presence back in my life has changed things and letting myself get distracted by Thallan’s body isn’t wise. I can’t use him like that tonight.
“Can you just...stay with me tonight?” I plead, and he just smiles softly, taking me in his arms and squeezing tight.
“Always…” he murmurs into my hair. He guides me to my bed, and I slip between the silk bedding, but I watch him closely as he undresses and sets aside his weapons on my dressing table. My eyes track his every movement as he lifts his tunic over his head, revealing a mural of rune tattoos covering his arms and torso. I want nothing more than to trail my fingers over the shapes until I feel all of him. He’s so beautiful that it’s almost painful to look at him for too long without becoming spellbound. His long, ethereal white hair hangs almost to his hips, so he binds it back with a small leather band.
He catches me staring and smiles mischievously before crawling up the bed and placing a slow, sensuous kiss on my lips. He hovers over me for a moment, before sliding behind my back and wrapping his long limbs around my smaller body and settling in. The warmth of his skin and his breath on my neck calms me until I slowly drift off to sleep.
~~~
A roar rumbles through the room and the tree in which my home sits shakes and rattles under the deafening noise. I startle awake and launch myself off of my bed—Thallan following close behind.
Outside my window, the night air glows too brightly and smoke clouds the tr
ees. I can’t see anything. I have no time to dress in my leathers, so I make do with my lace shift, only stopping to shove my feet into my boots, strap on my dagger and grab my bow before rushing outside. I cough through the smoke and it burns my eyes as I squint into the bright orange glow. Thallan curses behind me. Looking back at my elf, I see that his superior eyes are focused beyond me and the hopelessness on his face makes my heart clench. Following his line of sight, I can just barely make out the source of the inferno, just over the nearest bridge.
“No!” I shout as my feet lift off to carry me towards the blaze.
“Sera, wai—” Thallan starts to scream but I’m long gone.
Using my magic to propel me forward, I glide over the burnt bridge before coming to the edge of a smoke cloud filled with people. They push and shove each other—all trying to rush to the same place. A few of them notice me and the looks of horror on their faces makes my blood run cold.
“Out of the way!” I shout into the frenzy—pushing bodies as I squeeze past. “I said move!”
My mother’s chambers are on fire, but what has me screaming and thrashing to get to her, is the undulating cloud of unnatural black fog that slithers beneath the orange flame. I’ve seen this particular fire before as it melted and crumbled my castle. I watched this fire five years before as it burned my parents to ash in my fingers. The red curtain that normally hangs over the entryway is scorched and burned so I run straight into the room and immediately pull back, lifting my arm to cover my nose and eyes and I look away. I cough and sputter through the smoke before lifting the top of my dress up to cover my nose and mouth.
“Mother!” I call out frantically, I can’t see much of anything and my eyes flood with stinging tears. “General!” Everything in the room is burning. The maps on the walls char and crumble, but the weapons wall is strangely untouched and still protected by magic. I search the room with my heart in my throat when out of the corner of my eye, I spot a sun browned hand, peeking out from behind my mother's desk.
Rushing over, I drop to my knees in sudden agony. Sorrow and white-hot fear rips through my chest and a sob from my throat. My mother lays there on the singed floor, unharmed by the flame, but staring blankly at nothing as her eyes fill with black inky swirls of something I can’t name. The whites are gone and that same black trickles from her open mouth.
‘Poison… the coward's weapon.’
I scoop my mother into my arms, sobbing as I heave over her body, burying my head in her chest as I ignore the flames closing in around me. Clearly the fire was set as a distraction. Somebody poisoned the General and must have fled before setting the blaze. My arms shake as I hold her until a tingling, unpleasant feeling trembles over my skin. I feel eyes on me and suddenly, I realize I’m not alone in the room. Snapping my eyes to the corner by the hearth, a black clad figure hovers in the shadows. It wears a long, billowing black cloak that seems to suck in the darkness and hold it there, hiding its true face from my eyes. I can feel the thing staring at me intently. It reaches out a glove clad hand and moves forward. I’m held in place by fear alone as I watch it approach. I can’t move or run or scream. I can only watch as the hooded figure crouches down until the black abyss of its face tries to swallow me whole.
The thing reaches out further—almost hesitantly, its hand hovering just shy of my cheekbone. Its fingers don't touch my skin, but I hold my breath regardless. Something's wrong here. It looks at me in...reverence? I feel no danger at the moment, somehow, I know it won't hurt me. Still, hatred and loathing wafts from me as my eyes burn holes into the creature. I let my mother rest gently on the floor as I rush towards the thing. It moves out of my way before I can blink and I stumble, just barely catching myself against the wall. Sparks crackle around my fingertips when I let my magic build. The glow travels up my arms over my skin and into my hair. I can feel my eyes blazing as the cloaked figure backs up into the corner. Stalking forward, I bring my hands together conjuring every ounce of magic in my body before flinging my hands out and unleashing hellfire.
But I’m too late...too slow. One moment the creature hovers there in the dim corner of the room, and the next, it dissolves into a black, smoky abyss—taking the raging mage fire with it until my mother’s chambers are nothing but a charred heap of rubble and ash.
~~~
I stand vigil for three days over my mother's grave, keeping the predatory scavengers away until her spirit rests on the fourth morning.
I’m still wearing my soot covered white shift, refusing to leave her side until the very last moment. I stare at the spot in the dirt that houses the shell of who she once was—lamenting the thought of such a powerful mage being taken too early. The mere idea of General Rathbone losing her life to poison is enough to make me want to take on an army. My tears dried up after day two, and now I stand, wiping the dirt from my dress as I say goodbye for the last time.
I still as a shadow hovers over me—my hand going to the dagger at my hip. Whipping around, a part of me expects to be met with the shadow assassin, but instead, I reel back as I take in the sight of Shayde, waiting for me patiently.
The shadow drac man wears his black leathers of mourning, and hanging from his massive arm is a nicely woven black cloak, which he holds out for me to take. Gratefully, I walk to him and clutch it in my fingers before throwing it over my shoulders and shielding my skin from the chill of the new dawn.
“Thank you,” I whisper, meeting his eyes this closely for the first time. Their pale golden depths still manage to hypnotize me.
A bland smile tugs at his lips, but his eyes reflect nothing but pity and concern. “You need to rest, Sera.” His voice booms in the stillness of the morning—deep, like an animalistic growl and it slithers over my skin like cool water. I heard Shayde speak once, a few years back and I can still remember the way I stayed awake at night for many days after, replaying the melodic sound in my head over and over again.
“I’ll rest when I discover who did this.” Chewing on my inner cheek, my hands grip the cloak tightly, wringing the soft fabric until it comes close to tearing. Anger still surges inside of me, but also shame. Shame for the fact that I was unable to save her…that while I slept soundly, my mother lost her life in the pettiest way possible.
Looking up, I see that his face is drawn, and his jaw is set rigid. Shayde’s always had this glow about his onyx skin that looks almost violet. It used to unnerve me—reminding me that a dragon lurks just beneath that human-like facade. His hair is unbound today, hanging in deep black ropes to his middle back, and each one is woven through with leather strips and tipped in onyx. I’ve never spoken a word to the shadow drac man, though I’ve watched him for years—just as he’s watched me. Since my first day in the Veil, he’s been somewhere in the background, always present, but never making himself known. For a while, I thought maybe my mother had asked him to follow me, but soon those penetrating stares of his took a turn. Soon, those looks heated and made my body flush and tingle in a new way. That he’s talking to me now is a new development, and one I’ll not shy away from.
“I can’t begin express how sorry I am, she didn’t deserve this.” The sadness in his voice is potent, deep and overwhelming. I’d seen him a few times over the years speaking with the General, but in reality I have no idea how close they were. It seems though, that her death is affecting him more than the average person.
“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing you could have done.” I cast my eyes to the ground in shame. “It was right there...I had her assassin right in front of me, but I did nothing—”
He reaches out and places a hand on my shoulder—presumably for comfort, but my body quakes under his power. “Don’t you dare,” he snaps. His yellow eyes are blazing as his catlike slits expand. “We’ll find who did this and they will pay. I promise you that.” His voice is full of deadly promise. I believe he means what he says. He intends to find out exactly what happened and make things right.
I stare into his eyes, having to cran
e my head back given the sheer height of him. His large palm rubs my shoulder, but as we continue to gaze at one another, I feel his fingertips drag up my neck until his hand cups the back of my head. I’m unsure what’s happening. My breathing picks up and I watch as his eyes flicker to my lips and his nostrils flare.
“I’ll make this right for you, Sera.” he growls. “I made a promise and I have every intention of keeping it.”
This snaps me out of whatever trance he’d had me in. I reel back, his hand dropping from my hair and a flash of loss flits through his gaze. “What are you talking about? What promise?” Uneasiness curls in my gut. My face screws up like I’ve smelled something foul.
Shayde takes a deep, steadying breath before answering. “A long time ago, your mother did me a favor, and in return I pledged my protection.” My eyes widen, but he continues. “I vowed to protect her from all enemies, and I failed.” He looks to the ground in defeat and anger. His fist clenches and I watch as crimson drops of blood drip from his palm. His claws have extended into a partial shift and dig into his skin as he trembles.
Things begin to click into place. “You gave her the drac armor, didn't you...” For years I’d admired the armored vest the General wore. She’d once told me that one day I’d meet the drac who gifted them to her, but we never spoke of it again. His hard gaze moves to my face as his jaw clenches. He nods curtly and his eyes have a faraway look.
Clearing my throat uncomfortably, my feet shift my body from side to side. “I don’t understand, were you—” I almost choke on the words. My stomach rolls. The thought of Shayde and my mother…
His glowing eyes widen as my question dawns on him. “Oh, gods no—” he stammers and it’s the first time I’ve seen him so unsure, so un drac-like. “Your mother and I were friends, but never more than that.” He almost looks disturbed by the very thought. I let out a long breath of relief and the uncomfortable swirling in my stomach settles. “She saved me from a mage-net during the purge,” he supplies—moving towards me just a hair. “There was infighting back then, nobody knew who they could trust, and I found myself captured in a net not meant for me. Tilda was passing through and got me out and we fled to the Darklands together.”
