by Linda Kage
“What other news have you heard?” Indigo asked.
Bison made a face as if to say not much. “The rumor is that his own illegitimate son turned on him and did him in.” When he lifted his eyebrows my way, I nodded once, confirming I was the king’s bastard we were discussing. So Bison nodded too, and continued, “The queen’s fit to be tied over the whole thing. She’s taken over, running the realm, and has gone completely mad with desperation to get you back after you escaped her dungeons.” He rolled his hand encouragingly when I frowned in confusion over that.
“You know the ways in this land,” Bison prompted. “The one who kills the crown becomes the crown. You’ve a right to take the throne, if you wish.”
The blood instantly drained from my face. Dread coated my lungs. I sought Nicolette’s gaze first, needing her support. When I found her interest piqued as if the idea had merit to her, I laughed out an incredulous sound.
“I mean, no,” I said emphatically once I’d calmed down. “Seriously, why the fuck would anyone even want that?”
Bison shrugged. “Money. Power. Prestige.”
I snorted. “Pass.” I’d never be the kind of diplomat who negotiated through opposing opinions and fought for peaceful equality in the land. Sounded like too much responsibility and headache to me.
“Well then, Kalendria plans to take over the reign if you don’t,” Bison said bluntly. “So she needs you to die. Like yesterday.”
“What—a woman ruler?” Nicolette stepped forward with interest. “Really? How incredible.”
When Indigo sent her a scowl, she shrugged. “I mean, incredible that some woman’s taken charge, maybe not that one specifically.”
“It was bound to happen here someday.” Bison led us from the packed entrance and into the simple front room that was filled with a sitting area, kitchen, and a doorway that led off into another chamber. “Hell, on Earth over in Egypt, we’ve had lady rulers since way back in the BCs.”
I had no idea what a BC was, but I had to figure it meant a long damn time ago.
Next to me, Indigo bumped Nicolette’s arm with a grin. “As I told you, they’re far more progressive than us. Bison here’s the inventor of toilet paper, by the way, because he’s from Earth.”
The tall man lifted his hands humbly. “Now, don’t go giving me any more credit than I deserve, there, Indiana. I didn’t actually invent TP. It was already a well-used commodity where I’m from. I just made sure it became one here too.”
Nicolette didn’t seem to care. She drifted toward Bison with her mouth falling open in awe. “You mean, you’re the one who brought toilet paper into our lives? Oh, thank you. I can still remember when it first came to Donnelly. I was young, but it changed my entire life.”
Bison laughed and held up his hand. “High five to that. Walking around with a shitty ass ain’t no joke, is it?”
“Uh.” She blinked at him when he continued to smile and leave his hand raised expectantly.
Indigo leaned toward her and said from the corner of his mouth, “You’re supposed to slap your palm against his now.”
She glanced at her bodyguard as if he’d lost his mind, but he enlarged his eyes almost threateningly, so she said, “Oh!” and hastened to follow his advice. “Sorry.”
Once Nicolette gave Bison a high five, the tall man nodded his approval. “Right on, sister.” Then he turned to Indy. “So why’d you bring them here? I’m a baller, man. Not some Navy SEAL. If a shit ton of palace guards show up on my doorstep after y'all, I’m not going to be much use.”
“We don’t expect any trouble here,” Indigo promised. “I would never lead danger to your doorstep. We managed to evade them as we escaped Blayton. We just need to gather some food and supplies and procure horses before we start back to Donnelly, if you’re willing to spare any.”
“Oh.” Relief lit Bison’s face. “Well, in that case, I can hook a brother up.”
Bison hadn’t lied. He had supplies galore.
Among them were two rusted metal horses with wheels.
“Are those…?” I pointed in shock, my mouth falling open.
“Motorcycles,” Indigo said, patting one as he passed. “Yeah. They showed up fifty years ago exactly with two Replacements named Sean and Dana. But they ran out of gas within a fortnight of arriving, so they don’t work anymore.”
My brow furrowed. I wanted to ask what flatulence had to do with operating the wheeled metal horses, but Nicolette called my name, distracting me, her voice full of excitement.
I turned to see her hold up an everlasting flagon.
“What’re the chances?” she said with an affectionate smile as she tossed it to me.
Breath hitching, I caught it against my chest. And with an aching heart, I remembered the flask my mother had given me. I didn’t regret trading mine away. I was alive today because of it. Nicolette was alive. But severing the last tie I’d had to my mother made me feel significantly older all of a sudden. And alone.
When I realized Nicolette continued to watch me, I flung the flagon toward the pile of supplies we meant to take with us and turned away. I’d forgotten to block her from my emotions since meeting back up at the castle. I guess I could start again now, except I no longer saw the point.
She’d seen all my dreams, knew every dark, pathetic detail about me. I didn’t see how I could disappoint, shock, or horrify her any more than I already had. So I left my guard down and grabbed three bedrolls to add to the collection next.
That night, our host fed us the strangest, most exotic meal for supper.
“Lobster,” he announced on a proud grin. “It blew my wig back when I learned all y'all Outer Realms people hadn’t partaken of crab and lobster before I arrived. But, boy, you are in for a treat now. Just wait until you taste this, my friends. Mmm-mmm, it’s going to change your life. I promise.”
As he dug in, ripping the white meat from a boiled lobster’s back, I glanced sideways at Nicolette sitting next to me. Her face was progressively growing greener.
“Th-these are lobsters?” she asked slowly. Having never lived by a sea, she knew nothing of the creatures that dwelled there. “They look similar to scorpions, don’t they?”
Knowing what she thought of her friends she’d made in the Vast Desert, I realized she couldn’t bear to eat what resembled her beloved scorpion companions.
“Yeah, a bit, I guess.” His cheek full as he chewed, Bison pointed his fork toward a tiny bowl of soupy yellow sauce sitting in the center of the table. “Dip the meat in that garlic butter there. Trust me on this.”
Nicolette sent him a sharp frown for that term. Trust me. She hadn’t had much luck with trust lately.
My stomach went sour.
It was my fault, too.
I couldn’t handle the hardened cynicism on her face. I’d ruined all her innocence and sweet gullibility. In some ways, that might be a good thing, but in others, it was just sad. The pure, cheerful Nicolette I’d met in the woods beside her iron castle had changed.
Taking her plate, I slid it to me and fished out the meat from inside, mimicking Bison’s moves. Once the lobster’s innards were scraped free from its exoskeleton, I transferred the shell to my plate and pushed the meat alone back to Nicolette so it would no longer even remotely resemble a scorpion.
She glanced at me with immense relief, gushing, “Thank you.” After taking a timid nibble, she brightened. “Oh! This isn’t so bad at all.”
“Damn excellent, is what we call it back home,” Bison agreed on a nod.
After the meal, Bison gave Nicolette the only bed in the cottage, and then he, Indigo, and I camped out on the floor in the front room.
Our host fell asleep almost immediately, snoring softly across the room as Nicolette’s bodyguard turned on his side from his pallet to face me.
Moonlight drifted into the room through an open window, where the curtain blew gently in the sea breeze and the sound of waves lulled Bison into a deeper snore.
Indigo met
my gaze and sighed. “We haven’t had a moment to speak alone since meeting, have we?”
My jaw tensed as I braced myself for a brotherly lecture. “No,” I agreed. “We haven’t.”
I’d been jealous of this man from the moment I’d heard Nicolette say his name. She spoke of him with such open adoration. He was important to her in a way I knew I never could be.
But since meeting him earlier, I was just glad he was here for her.
I mean, it helped that there didn’t seem to be even a spark of romantic chemistry between them in the least. But I would’ve dealt with the agony of that if there had been. Whatever she needed, I wanted her to have.
“I still haven’t made up my mind about you yet,” he said. “You seem like a decent enough fellow. So far, you’ve treated Nicolette with the deference and respect she deserves. And your fighting skills are superb. But…” Shaking his head, he let out a low whistle. “What you did to her with all the kidnapping and lying and—”
“I know.” Voice going hoarse, I regretfully added, “Trust me, I know.”
Indigo was quiet for a while before he released a breath. “If I’d been in your shoes, and Nicolette had been where your sister was, I can’t say I wouldn’t have tried everything exactly as you did to save her. But Nicolette wasn’t in her shoes, and if you ever hurt her like that again, I’ll slaughter you. I swear it.”
“Don’t worry,” I promised. “I’d slaughter myself first.”
“Good,” he murmured before belatedly adding, “And sorry about Sable. I regret that we didn’t get there in time to help.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, closing my eyes. “Me too.”
An antsy restlessness scurried through me. I opened my lashes and glanced longingly toward the door that led into the room where Nicolette lay. “Do you think she’s asleep yet?”
Indigo went still. “Why? You thinking about going in there?”
“No,” I said immediately, though I wanted to with everything inside me. “It’s just that her dreams are better.”
It hadn’t taken me long to figure out which one of us controlled our dreams each night; it was whoever fell asleep first. And I far preferred the pleasantries that her mind came up with. They were always better than the dark, hopeless doom in mine. So I definitely wanted her to lose consciousness first.
“What’s it like?” Indigo wondered quietly. “Dream sharing?”
A yearning sigh hissed from my lungs before I had to admit, “It’s amazing.”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “I figured it must be. Which reminds me, did you and Nicolette ever—”
When he broke off abruptly, I furrowed my brow. “Did we what?”
“Did the two of you—you know?”
I shook my head. “Obviously, I don’t.”
He growled out an impatient sound. “Lord above, I just want to know if there’s a chance she’s with child or not. If I’m going to be plagued with her constant retching and morning sickness all the journey home, I’d like to at least be prepared for it.”
Frozen, I gaped at him, not even having considered—
A dazed cold sweat swept over my face as heat filled my veins. But Nicolette with child? My child? Was it possible?
“No,” I finally said. I knew the menstrual cycles of women, and I knew when she’d gone through her courses. “The timing’s not right.”
“The timing’s not right?” Indigo repeated cautiously. “Or no, there is absolutely no possibility at all.”
“She’s not pregnant,” I snarled, unwilling to discuss the situation with him further.
“My God,” he uttered. “So you did deceive your way into her bed while lying to her about the whole purpose of your journey together, then, didn’t you?”
“I would never,” I told him in no uncertain terms, my voice hard and unyielding, even as my bones ached with regret, because I hadn’t been honest with her during that time, either. “And you will stay out of our private affairs.”
He was quiet for a moment; I could practically feel him seething from across the room. But then he exhaled, capitulating with a reluctant but respectful, “Aye, my friend. As the mark is never wrong, I’ll not interfere again.”
32
Nicolette
I fell asleep before Farrow did that night, thank God. Though we’d only shared a handful of dreams together, his always left me disturbed, feeling heavy and despondent afterward.
I didn’t like seeing how gray life had left him, either. I mean, had the man never been given a sweet treat or hug in his entire life? It was a miracle he’d turned out as well as he had. With the kind of hopeless existence he’d been given, I would’ve imploded by now.
I wanted every night to be full of my dreams, so he could at least experience some warmth and brightness.
When I appeared in the village of Mandalay, a smile lit my face.
“Oh, thank God,” a voice said from behind me, echoing my thoughts. I turned, beaming at Farrow. He lifted a shoulder almost bashfully, admitting, “Your dreams are better.”
“They are,” I agreed, going to him.
Needing my hands on his skin, I made his tunic disappear and put that leather and fur-skinned kilt back on him. Purring my approval, I smoothed my palms up his bare chest. He glanced down at his naked torso, skimmed his gaze over my spread fingers on his pecs, and then lifted his eyes back to me, his brows arched.
I shrugged, unrepentant.
This was my dream; he’d wear what I liked.
Speaking of what I liked, I hummed deep in my throat, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles under my flesh as I ran my fingers up over his shoulders, along the sides of his throat and further up so I could bury them in his hair and grip, pulling his face down to mine.
When our lips touched, he groaned out his need and kissed me back, possessively snagging my waist and pulling me up against him until I felt his erection dig into my hip.
“Is this where you’re taking us tonight, then, my lady?” he asked, his eyes glittering with passion as he tore his mouth from mine and gazed tenderly at me. “For, I must say, I approve.”
“I hadn’t planned on it, no.” I frowned at the cuts on his face. “I actually just wanted to dance with you at a festival down in my village. I missed it the day you came for me, and you didn’t dance with me that night with the mages.”
“Then we shall dance now,” he said, taking one of my hands in his and sliding his other to the base of my back before swinging us into a proper, courtly waltz.
“Except now I wish for more privacy.” I pouted, scowling at the crowd of Donnelleans watching us. Slipping my hand from Farrow’s shoulder, I snapped my finger, and the scenery morphed to my bedchamber at home, candelabras blazing from every corner of the room, with the bedsheets turned down as if inviting us into them.
Farrow chuckled. “Best dream ever,” he said and kissed me again as we continued to dance around the floor of my room.
My lips drank from his as my fingers began to wander again, slipping from his shoulders to travel over his back. When I came across his scars and the branded mark of Far Shore, he tore his mouth from mine and pressed our foreheads together, panting as he watched my face.
“I wish I could’ve been able to kiss these all better.” I looked up into his eyes, then glanced at the cut slashing open his cheekbone and another on his chin. With a hiss of regret, I pressed my mouth to each one. “I should kiss this better for you, too. Outside the dream, I mean.”
“And I could heal this.” He trailed a finger gently over the side of my throat, where it was tender and swollen from being strangled the day before. “You have bruises.” His eyes showed remorse as they moved from my neck to my eyes. “And your voice is hoarser than normal. I could fix that. If you’d just let me.”
But I could never seem to give him promises or permission that moved past our dreams. Sometimes, I’d wanted to so badly that I’d opened my mouth, and my lips would move, but no sound would emerge. It must be the ru
les of dream-sharing or something. Or maybe my subconscious was still telling me I just hadn’t forgiven him yet.
In the dream, however, Farrow tilted my face up with a touch to my chin and he leaned in to press his lips to my throat.
I sighed from the brief contact. So he returned, his tongue trailing over my flesh. I moaned, and his teeth nipped. As my nipples hardened, I willed my clothing away, and Farrow sucked in a surprised breath.
“Thank God,” he breathed, taking a beaded tip into his mouth.
I jumped from the pleasure and clutched his hair. My shoulders arched back, which lifted my breasts to him in clear offering. He accepted, sucking and licking even more, plumping one with his palm before moving to the other.
“Farrow,” I panted. “More.”
He looked up at me, seeking permission. I willed us to the bed, and once he realized I was lying on my back, fully nude with him stretched out on his side beside me, a winning smile lit his lips.
“As you wish,” he answered.
His lips returned to me, and he kissed his way down, gripping my hips as I opened my legs for him, spreading myself wide with wanton need. The muscles deep inside my sex were already clenching, craving the feel of him filling me. My clit throbbed, needing pressure and constant, slippery, wet movement.
When his tongue touched me there, I nearly came, so close to the edge already that I tightened my hold on his hair and tugged. My fingers silently commanded him to give it to me hard and fast.
He shuddered, grasping the mattress beside me as he lapped with a greedy abandon.
My hips undulated. That tightening inside me drew to a peak, and I began my first shudder of completion when Farrow suddenly disappeared.
I gasped, sitting upright in bed, my body strung so taut I nearly wept from the agony of incompletion. I wasn’t sure what had woken us from the dream, but something had definitely pulled us away from my orgasm, and I wanted to murder whatever that something was.