Sharah let out snicker. “Well, you have to admit, this is turning out to be one of the worst dates ever.”
Chase winced. “I know, and I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened at your place. I choked, I guess. Everything seemed so strange and awkward, all of a sudden.”
Sharah laughed. “You felt that way too? I thought it was just me. All I could think about was, oh my gods, I’m dating the man who hired me and how the hell can I compare to his last girlfriend?”
Chase blinked. It never occurred to him that she would compare herself to Delilah. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re worried about me comparing you to Delilah?”
Sharah glanced down at the floor and her smile vanished, replaced by a nervous twitch of the lip. “Well…she’s…look at what she and her sisters do. She’s incredibly athletic, she can turn into a cat and a panther, and...she fights demons. I’m just an elfin medic. I kind of wonder…why you broke up with her? Why did you ask me out?” And right there, her voice cracked and she covered her face. “I can’t believe I just said that. You must think I’m horrible—but…”
Chase slid down on the floor next to her, his nervousness forgotten. “I had no clue you felt that way.” He reached out and took her hands. Overhead, the zombies were at it again, thudding against the door. “Will you shut up out there, you freaks?”
Sharah laughed then—not much but it was a start. “I don’t think they’re going to pay much attention to you, even if you do have a badge.”
Chase snorted. “Not that many people do anyway.” He sobered. “Seriously, I wish I had known you felt this way before. I could have…okay, just…ask me whatever you want. Please.”
She blinked, and the blue of her eyes touched his heart. They were soft, and caring, and he realized just how incredibly sexy she looked with her hair streaming down the sides of her face. She was blonde, like Delilah, but she was also…different. A vulnerability there that she couldn’t hide.
“Okay. Why did you break up with Delilah?”
Chase licked his lips. “I haven’t told anybody this. The only one who knows is Delilah herself—and probably her sisters. What one knows, the others do. I love those girls—I really do. But Delilah needs someone who isn’t going to constantly want to run to her rescue. I always want to be that guy. Don’t get me wrong, I love strong women, but I don’t think I can ever be the kind of guy who can go out there at the front of the pack with her. I’m human. I’m a cop, not a warrior. There’s a difference.”
Sharah nodded, soberly. “In Elqaneve, we have a saying. Thinkers plan the wars. Warriors fight the battles. Without one, the other cannot function. Both are necessary, and both have their places. But it’s hard for a thinker…a planner…to match pace with a warrior—and vice versa. Sometimes it works, but sometimes the differences are too great.” She paused, then cocked her head to one side. “Is that the only reason?”
Chase smiled gently, taking her hand. “No, I didn’t break up with her just because I can’t run to her rescue. I’d be a poor excuse for a man if that were the only reason. Ever since I was given the Nectar of Life, I’ve been changing. I can’t…the future seems so nebulous now. Before, I had it all planned out and now—conceivably, I have a thousand years ahead of me. I have no clue what that might bring. It’s not that I don’t want to commit to a relationship, but Delilah…a thousand years…I don’t think it would work for us.”
“If your heart tells you that it was the right decision, it’s good you paid attention.” She paused, then shook her head. “Wait…did you say you broke up with her?”
Chase grinned. “You thought she broke up with me, didn’t you? And that I’m nursing unrequited love and regret?”
Sharah blushed and covered her face with her hands, laughing. “I admit it—yes, I did. I thought I was—”
“A rebound fling?”
“Something like that.”
Chase scooted over so that he could slide his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and it felt like a perfect fit. “Sharah, I never ask anybody out on the rebound. And I never ask anybody out that I don’t find attractive, or interesting.” He tipped her head up so she was staring him in the eyes. “I asked you out because I like you, because you’re lovely and talented and…because I wanted to do this.” Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. As he sunk into the kiss, the scent of orange blossom and honeysuckle coiled around him and he lost himself in the feel of her soft body pressed against his. Eventually, someone would come destroy the zombies, but for now, he thought, the morgue bathroom seemed like the perfect place to get to know one another.
Ink Bonds
There was a point where Trillian realized he needed to seek out Camille again, and he was determined to find her, if it was the last thing he ever did.
TRILLIAN STRODE THROUGH the city. Y’Elestrial hadn’t changed a lot since he’d last been here, but he had. Last time he left, he swore never to come back. When Camille had rejected him, he’d pursued her, begged her to reconsider, but she had shut him out and refused to see him. Even though they were connected by an unbreakable bond, she’d pushed him away and sequestered herself in her house. So, he had walked out of the city, angry and seething. That had been twelve years ago, and during all that time, he had thought about her every day. Every time he touched another woman, he saw Camille’s face. Every time he heard a throaty laughter, he’d turned around, hoping to see her standing there. But he never thought he’d step back inside the gates of Y’Elestrial. Until he was hired for a mission that he couldn’t refuse.
TRILLIAN STARED UP at the palace, then back at the orders in his hand. The name brought back both bad memories and good ones.
Darynal clapped his back. Trillian had asked his blood oath brother to come with him because otherwise, he wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to go through with it. “You okay? You still want to do this?”
Trillian nodded. “Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what I expect.” His gaze rose, following the spires of the ostentatious palace. “I don’t even know if she’s here. And if she is…will her father even tell her I’m here?”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen each other?” Darynal crossed his arms over his chest, shivering as a gust of wind blew past. It was getting chilly—autumn was well under way and it wouldn’t be more than a moon or two before the snows would cover the land.
Trillian let out a soft sigh. “Which time? We broke up so many times it’s hard to count. But the last time—before she shut me out completely—was a couple years ago. We were meeting in secret before that. We never could keep away from each other. But finally, she walked away from me.” His heart ached, though he wouldn’t tell anybody but he knew that Darynal could sense it. Darynal was like he was—an outcast, though it might not appear so to those who weren’t privy to the inner workings of the Svartan race.
Darynal nodded. “What are you afraid will happen?”
“That I won’t find her. That her father will turn me away.” Trillian paused, then shuddered. “That she’ll be there and I’ll talk to her and…” And…what? What did he really fear? Was he so afraid that Camille would refuse to hear him out? Or was he afraid that she might say yes, might listen. That their passion might come cascading back? Because if it did, he wasn’t sure that he could go through another breakup. The last time had been almost too much to handle.“There’s only one way to find out, man. Come on.” Darynal started walking toward the palace.
After a moment, Trillian joined him. The message he carried had to be delivered one way or another, and he might as well get it over with. The orders weighed heavily in his hand, and not just because they were addressed to Sephreh ob Tanu—Camille’s father. No, Trillian had managed a peek in them, even though they were supposedly sealed. He was very good with ferreting out information when he needed to. And what was within this scroll could shake the world if they knew.
“What did your father say
when you hired on with Queen Asteria?” Darynal knew just the thing to take Trillian’s mind off his impending meeting, and that was to bring up something conceivably worse.
Trillian gave him a scathing look. “What do you think he said? I was already walking on thin ice. They never accepted me even before I met Camille and it’s gone downhill since then. Even when we broke up, my father said I had shamed the family too much. When I accepted the commission with Elqaneve, he told me to leave and never darken his doorway again. He revoked my standing, erased me from the family tree, and took away my name. That’s why I started using Zanzera—my aunt Leelee said I could take her name. She was cut off by the main branch of the family, too.”
Darynal nodded. “I think I met Leelee once, didn’t I?”
“Yes, when we stopped for dinner that one time on a hunting trip? Remember I asked you not to mention it to my parents? If they had known that I stepped over the threshold in Leelee’s house, I would have gotten the hiding of my life.” Trillian wiped one hand across his eyes. There were so many politics to worry about at home. It had almost been a relief when his father had turned him away for good.
The palace was spacious and ornate to the point of being gaudy. Lethesanar liked her opium, and she liked her bling, and the more addicted she grew to the drug, the more lavish her spending became. The stirrings in the underground were that war was in the offing. Rumors had it that Tanaquar—Lethesanar’s sister who had vanished some years back—had banded together with an army and that they were planning a coup. But rumors could be wrong, and best to work with the powers that be, rather than the powers that might never come to the throne. At least until the changeover.
Trillian was a pragmatist. He’d watched friends get mowed under when they chose the wrong cause, the wrong side, the wrong battle. And now that Svartalfheim was getting ready to relocate to Otherworld from the Subterranean Realms, everything was up in the air. Turmoil was the name of the game, and he watched every move he made. That was the way to survive, and Trillian had been in some dicey spots before.
As he and Darynal lightly ran up the steps to the central doors, Trillian flashed back to the last time he’d seen Camille—their last parting.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you are doing this again. How many times do I have to tell you, I am not like the rest of my people?” Trillian couldn’t believe they were here again. How many times had they stood at this point, and how many times had either he or Camille stormed out, ending their relationship for good?
“I know what blood is like. I know how your family feels about me—about us. Eventually, you’re going to get tired of running from them. You’re going to want to go home and claim your inheritance. And I can’t go with you. I can’t live in the Subterranean Realms, and I can’t…I can’t live with people who hate me. I get enough of that here from my own relatives.” Camille dropped into a chair, rocking as she hugged herself tightly. Her hair trailed down her back, a cloak of raven curls. She gazed up at him, her eyes pale and flashing. She had been running magic heavily the past month, and the violet of her irises was almost eclipsed with the silver flecks.
Trillian wanted to tell her that his father had thrown him out—he wanted to tell her that he hardly ever saw his family, but his pride was still stinging, and the truth was, he wanted her to accept him as is, with all his flaws, including his family. After all, he accepted her father hating him. He let out a long sigh and sat down on the bench opposite her. “You know I would never cast you off. I know what this is about. It’s about Rona.”
Rona…the name weighed heavily on his thoughts. Rona was the woman his family had chosen for him to marry. They had made it clear that he was of age now and if he ever expected to inherit his share of the family fortune, he would come home and marry the King’s niece. “You can bring your half-human whore, if you like, but she’ll always be in your stable. You can never marry her and you’d better accept that now.”
And so, he had run once again, hoping to stave off the argument till later, and he hadn’t bothered to mention it to Camille, hoping to keep her from worrying. But he hadn’t counted on how cagey his mother was. She’d sent a messenger to Camille, telling her about the marriage and how Camille could never expect to be anything but Trillian’s lower-caste mistress.
And now, here they were.
Camille stared at him, tears trailing down her face. “I never expected to be monogamous—I don’t know if I can be. But I will never settle for playing second fiddle. And I will never live in a house that considers me a common whore.”
Trillian reached out to wipe away the tears but she flinched. “I will never ask you to do that. You know that. I have no intentions on marrying Rona, or any other woman except you. But I can’t live here either, not with your father’s scorn. Come away with me. We’ll make our lives somewhere free from family and duty.” But even as he said it, he knew it was a death knell, because he knew Camille.
She straightened her shoulders. As she wiped her eyes, her expression slid into a mute, painful acceptance. “You know I can’t do that. You know that I have my sisters to look after—Menolly is still finding her way now. You remember how horrible that time was—Father still hasn’t recovered. And Delilah needs me. And…I am—”
“A guardsman’s daughter. I know, I know. I’ve heard it so much I can recite it in my sleep.” Even though he didn’t mean it to come out snarky, it did. Apparently that was exactly the wrong thing to say.
Camille slowly stood. “You’ve always lived by your own rules. But you know who I am, and if it pains you so much, then why are you still here?”
Trillian desperately wanted to take it back, but it was too late. Some words cannot be unsaid, and he’d crossed the line. Her family was fucked up—there was no denying that—but he knew that the only way Camille had to deal with the loss of her mother, the way her sister had been turned and abused, and the reserve of her father was to put her duty and honor at the forefront. It kept her going, it gave her something to hold on to because gods knew, there wasn’t much else for her to lean on.
“I’m so sorry…” He fumbled for words.
“How many times have we done this?” She slowly crossed to the bed where her cloak was lying, neatly folded. “How many times have we had this argument? If it wasn’t Rona, it was always something else that set it off.”
“Camille—don’t do anything you’d regret. Please, calm down.” Trillian stepped closer, trying to embrace her, but she held out her arm.
“I think it’s time we just called it for what it is—a giant mistake.”
“We’re bound. You can’t just walk out on me. I love you, and you love me. I know this—can you deny it?” He was desperate now, wishing to hell he could have kept a hold of his tongue. And he wanted to lash his mother—she’d set this up.
But Camille just let out a strangled laugh. “Isn’t that the most painful rub of all? No, I can’t forget you. I can’t just walk away and leave you in the dust. But I can walk toward the future. And Trillian, I think I have to walk away from you. You’ll find someone else. Go marry Rona. I’m sure she won’t be the hassle I am.” And with that, she turned and swept out of the room before he could run after her.
Trillian considered following her, begging her to come back. And he knew he would…but a gnawing fear in the pit of his stomach told him that this had been one step too far. That they would never come back from here.
“THE CAPTAIN WILL see you now.” The secretary led him into the office that he’d been dreading. Trillian found himself staring at a man who hated his guts. Who probably had hoped to never see him again.
When the door shut behind them, he remained standing at attention. Captain Sephreh stood and walked out from behind the desk, eyeing him up and down with an unreadable stare. After a moment, he held out his hand.
“You have a missive for me?”
“Yes, sir.” Trillian handed Sephreh the note.
Sephreh took it, opened it,
and read it, then placed it carefully in his pocket. As he slowly returned to his desk, he said, “That will be all. You may go.”
Trillian hesitated. It would be rude to ignore the order, even though he was no Guard Des’Estar, nor a member of the OIA, but he couldn’t just walk out. Not without asking.
“Captain…”
Sephreh turned slowly, staring at him with an icy glint. “What do you want, Trillian? Why did you come back? I can’t believe you give a damn about this mission, or anything Queen Asteria asked you to do. What are you looking for?”
Trillian stiffened. Truth was, he really didn’t care much about what he was doing, though he’d keep his word—once he was paid for a mission, he made it a point to follow through. After a pause, he finally decided he might as well just come to the point.
“I’m looking for Camille. I have to talk to her. Where is she?”
Sephreh let out a snort. “You think I’d lead you to my daughter? I rejoiced the day she came to her senses and finally sent you packing. You’re not welcome in my family, Zanzera. Know that right now.”
“Your family doesn’t concern me, but Camille does. She and I have been through the Eleshinar ritual together. We are bound and if I’m hurting this much without her, she’s going to be hurting without me.” Trillian tossed his messenger bag on a chair and strode forward, leaning across Sephreh’s desk. “I love your daughter and I cannot forget her. You can hate me all you want, but you’re not the one who I care about.”
Sephreh jumped up, his eyes flashing. He looked so much like Camille that it tore at Trillian’s gut. Like daughter, like father when it came to temper, that was for sure.
“I dismissed you!”
“And I refuse to be dismissed so easily.” Trillian slammed his hand on the desk. “Where is she? If she still wants nothing to do with me, I’ll walk out of her life again, but I will not leave without talking to her!”
Otherworld Tales Volume 1 Page 6