Trust In Love: A Love Mark Romance

by Linda Kage

  Meanwhile in Dimway Forest.

  “Mater?”

  I glanced up from the scroll I was writing on and found Wicket hovering in the entrance of my tent.

  With a snap from my fingers, the journal popped into the air and then spooled closed into a tight roll before disappearing so it could return to the only kingdom in the Outer Realms that actually contained a public library.

  High Cliff had always been ahead of the others in academics. Then again, the House of Bjorn, who had reigned over it for hundreds of years, had been the first family to cast off their powers. And it hadn’t taken me long to realize the absence of magic forced one to get creative and use critical thinking to solve problems instead, turning to science, inventions, and industry.

  Maybe that was why my little world here hadn’t evolved as quickly as I’d hoped it would; there was still too much supernatural interference at work, restricting its progress.

  Not that I was willing to forego any of my own abilities to help in that regard, mind you. So I couldn’t rightly begrudge anyone else who chose to hold on to their gifts as well.

  We’d all have to make do as we were, I supposed.

  “Fama?” I asked, motioning for the squire to enter as I requested an update report on our progress with the lingering forest fire destruction. “Is it done?”

  “Etiam,” he answered, telling me all the soil and nature mages had finally returned the woods to their former condition.

  I nodded. “Good.” With a relieved smile, I stood, repeating, “Good. Then my work here is complete. It’s time for me to move on.”

  Wicket shifted his face sideways to reveal his confusion. “Mater?” he asked.

  “Darling, how many times must I ask you to stop calling me mother? I’m your lover, remember. Amans not mater.” With a cringe, I explained, “It makes me distinctly uncomfortable whenever you call me mother, now that you’ve given me multiple orgasms.”

  Flushing with embarrassment, the servant immediately bowed out his acquiesce.

  “Paenitet,” he gushed in apology.

  But I lifted a hand, stopping him. I’d only invited him into my bed recently. I’m sure it was difficult for him to go from thinking of me as strictly his master to his paramour as well. I just needed to be patient.

  “No worries,” I assured, stroking his arm gently, then his hair. After kissing his brow, I moved past him to the trunk I had sitting next to the opening of my tent. “Just try to keep it in mind for the future, if you could.”

  He nodded as he watched me kneel and lift the lid. “What did you mean by your work being complete?” he finally asked, easing curiously closer to see what treasures lay inside my chest. “Are you leaving us?”

  Heaped with nothing but everlasting flagons, the interior probably looked quite ordinary to him. But I couldn’t contain the jitter in my pulse as I reached for my newest acquisition.

  Once the flask I’d procured from Farrow was in my grip, I released a shuddered breath.

  It might’ve been a sentimental artifact to the Bastard Betrayer turned Prince Consort, but it was priceless to me.

  Smoothing my thumb over the crest inscribed on the front, a nostalgic ache tore through my lungs. Holden had created this house crest when he was only twelve. I’d taken him and his two sisters out into the forest to play that day, where he’d found some berries and began to doodle on a large rock, staining the flat surface with the purple juices to draw pictures. When he’d finished and stepped back with a proud smile, I knew that sign would forever be his insignia.

  And sure enough, he’d marked his crest on every magical creation he’d ever made, including the hundreds upon hundreds of everlasting flagons he’d enchanted.

  No, I hadn’t been completely honest with Farrow and Nicolette when I’d told them everlasting flagons were incredibly rare. But I’d stretched the truth about many things with those two—one being the fact that I wasn’t from the lineage of mages who’d created the mark of L’Amante, because I was the very mage who’d created it—so that minor fib probably made no difference. The flask was mine now, and this specific flagon really was one-of-a-kind.

  Shifting my attention to the metal bottom, I gave it a gentle twist, and it came open breaking away from the top portion to reveal a small, hidden compartment beneath.

  Inside the miniscule cubby, a tiny vial made from the silk of a butterfly's chrysalis glimmered up at me.

  “Yes,” I breathed reverently. It was still there.

  I let the flagon fall to the ground as I rose to my feet and lifted the vial so the potion contained within could catch the light and spark a blue-green glow around the walls of my tent.

  “What is it?” Wicket asked in a hushed voice as he moved even closer to peer at the vial as well.

  I glanced at him. “Fortuna ius,” I answered. “Liquid luck.”

  He blinked at me. “How did you know it would be there?”

  A small, sad smile drifted across my features. “Because my son put it there.”

  “You have a son, my lady?” His eyes widened in surprise.

  Shaking my head, I explained, “Not any longer. He died. Many years ago.”

  He’d been murdered. As had his sisters.

  Holden had deserved death for what he’d become, but the girls had not. That didn’t stop me from missing all three of them, though.

  After their demise, I was done with being a mourning mother, so I sealed my womb, no longer wishing to lose another child, for those three hadn’t been the first. In another time and another world, I’d birthed more children. And lost them as well.

  I was tired of loss.

  It was time to preserve something. Make life new again. My gift was creation. Beginnings. I’d never dealt well with endings. So I was ready to mend and water this land I had made before leaving it. Fix what had been broken.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Wicket told me, hesitantly reaching out to touch my arm. He was still so unsure with me, not yet knowing whether he was allowed to initiate contact or not.

  I supposed that’s what I got for fornicating with one of my subjects.

  Covering his hand with my own, I smiled at him warmly, hoping to reassure him and let him know he could touch me whenever he pleased. I did so adore the physical.

  “Thank you, my love.” Then I sent him a rueful grin and returned my attention to the liquid. “Well…” Flipping the plug off with my thumb, I lifted the vial to my lips and prayed it still contained what it had hundreds of years ago. “Bottom’s up.”

  Then, tipping my head back, I downed the contents in one gulp, only to wince at the bitter aftertaste. “Gah. That’s some nasty shit.”

  Wicket grinned at my words. He loved the study of different languages, and this brand of colloquialism from the old world was one of his favorites.

  I winked, letting him know I’d said it just for his benefit.

  “What now?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Now, we wait and see. The luck could come to me at any moment from here on out.”

  I had put off drinking it until my work in making sure the damaged forest was repaired after the Donnelly army had set it aflame. I’d traveled with the mages of the Dimway Forest for eight years, you see. I was going to miss them. They had called me Mater Silvam—Mother of the Wood—and treated me well. I don’t recall a group revering me as much as they had. So I’d wanted to make sure they were left in a favorable situation before I departed from them.

  And with Nicolette as the new queen of this territory, I knew they would be.

  But saving this one group hadn’t been my main goal when I’d “assisted” Farrow and Nicolette with their courtship. No, my true goal—the wrong I’d been trying to right for over two hundred years—had always been my end motivation.

  Not that Nicolette’s leadership wouldn’t be good for Far Shore—I’m sure it would—I was just more interested in saving the entire Outer Realms.

  “How long are we supposed to wait?” Wicket as
ked, glancing up at me with the most beautiful, innocent blue eyes. He was adorable when he looked serious and intent like this.

  Grinning, I trailed my fingers along his cheek, then down the center of his chest toward the fall in his britches.

  “I’ve no idea,” I answered honestly as I began to unlace the first leather tie keeping me from the prize I could see growing in his trousers. “But what say you and I pass the time with a spot of fun, eh?”

  “Etiam,” he murmured immediately, his voice growing thick and eyes swirling with desire.

  But no sooner had he said yes than he made a choking sound, tightened his face in pain, and closed his eyes briefly, only to open them, revealing how they’d milked over almost white, clouded with the frost of magic.

  “Already?” Growing eager and wondering if Holden’s luck potion was taking effect now, I cupped one of Wicket’s cheeks in my hand. “What do you see, amica mea?” I asked my handsome soothsayer.

  I might be the most powerful being currently wandering the Outer Realms—the creator of all this madness—but I wasn’t all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing, or so many alls I wished I were. I wasn’t a god. I had a beginning, so someday I would have an ending. And thus, I found it incredibly convenient to keep a seeing eye on hand to help me understand some things I otherwise couldn’t.

  “I see the queen’s companion,” Wicket finally answered, his voice stilted and monotone, as it always was under the influence of his gift.

  I furrowed my brow in confusion. “The prince consort?”

  “No. The High Cliff knight,” he corrected, “who bears the mark of L’Amante.”

  “Oh.” I pulled back in surprise because I remembered him. When Nicolette had traveled through our camp the second time, after she’d been crowned, to check on the mages of Dimway Forest after the fire, he’d been riding with her. She’d commissioned me to enchant a pair of wrist guards for him, in fact.

  He’d been a pleasant enough fellow, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his given name. And I had no idea which house he hailed from.

  But if Wicket was seeing him, it had to be an important one.

  “Who is he?” I asked, trying to regulate my heartbeats, even as my eagerness rose to a crescendo.

  “He is a descendant,” Wicket answered slowly.

  “Of?” I prompted, moving closer, my voice rising with anticipation.

  Could it be?

  “Of Locasta and a sire not of Holden’s loins.”

  My lips parted. Yes. Finally, we were getting somewhere interesting, for I always found myself greatly invested in the progress of one of those descendants. They held the key to breaking the curse that could bring a measure of peace across the entire land. They could stop the madness my own son had held a hand in starting.

  “And what do you see the High Clifter doing, my love?” I asked, moving closer, squeezing Wicket’s arm tighter.

  “He travels with the Far Shore queen’s caravan to survey her new realm,” he answered.

  I knew I’d helped that girl along in her journey to become the kingdom’s ruler for a reason. This must’ve been that very reason.

  Usually, I refrained from interfering as much as possible, but there’d been something about Nicolette and Farrow that had told me to act. Thank goodness I’d listened to my instincts.

  “And he’s just discovered his true love,” Wicket went on.

  “Did he?” I fisted my free hand in jubilation, then pressed it to my mouth before murmuring, “Lucky him. So who is she, Wicket? Who’s his soul mate?”

  “Another mark bearer.” His wooden words flowed over me like the finest ale, going to my head until I felt instantly light-headed with glee. “But not the mark of L’Amante,” he added. “This one holds the mark...of his enemy.”

  I closed my eyes and wavered on my feet.

  But thank you, thank you, thank you.

  It was about time.

  Hope had returned.

  Once I was steady, I drew in a deep, relieved breath and opened my lashes, only to find my young lover beginning to shake with exertion, sweat trailing down his face.

  “Oh! Wicket, you poor soul.” I touched his arm to relieve him from the grip his powers had on him. “You may stop now, darling. But thank you for holding on to the vision for as long as you did. You’re such a dear.”

  It endangered a seeing eye to linger too long in their foresight. That was why they rarely saw a clear picture of what was happening or would happen. But Wicket had been willing to risk hurting himself and losing his powers just for me. He was such a dedicated boy. He deserved a reward for that.

  Sucking in a breath, he returned to himself and peered up at me, hoping to find favor.

  I smiled gently, willing to give it, and wiped some of the perspiration from his brow until he seemed content.

  All the while, I knew it was definitely time for me to move on, assume a new identity, and keep tabs on the freshly matched mates whose marks conflicted terribly, while trying not to interfere in their destiny as much as I could help it.

  And I wouldn’t.

  As long as everything went the way I needed it to go, anyway.

  But this time—this time, maybe I’d take Wicket along with me. He was an ardent, vigorous lover. A loyal follower. And I might need his foresight again. Plus, I was tired of being alone every time I began anew.

  Without speaking, he watched me expectantly, hoping for an explanation of the importance behind what he’d just seen.

  He had no idea what new wonders awaited him.

  I smiled, ready to share my burdens and secrets with someone else for once. “How would you like to go on a journey with me, darling?”

  He nodded immediately. “I would go anywhere with you, Mater.”

  I bit back a groan. The child was still fixed on calling me mother, it seemed.

  Oh well. We could work in his faulty forms of address as we went. It would be a nice challenge. And I’d still enjoy his company.

  “In that case...” I delicately pressed my thumbs over his eye sockets so I could see into his deepest desires. It would’ve been convenient if I could’ve just done this to see his soothsayer vision too, but magic was never so easy.

  At least I could see this, though.

  “For my next transformation,” I told him. “I’ll become what you crave most from a lover in physical appearance. How would you like that, amica mea?”

  He nodded shyly, already showing me in his mind’s eye what type of curves and coloring he most preferred.

  I lifted one eyebrow. “Mmm. Very nice.” I could work with this.

  I could become this.

  And so my current form began to fade away as a new one appeared.

  When I dropped my hands before stepping back, Wicket opened his lashes, and his eyes widened with shock.

  I laughed, pleased by his reaction, then I ran my hands over my new, leaner hips, appreciating his taste.

  This vessel was much smaller and darker and younger than the last one had been, and when I said, “From now on, I shall be called Nalini, the lotus in my lover’s eye,” my voice was softer and more feminine.

  Wicket sucked in a breath, and his face filled with desire as he stepped closer to lift a wavering hand to my cheek.

  I closed my eyes and purred when his warm fingers cupped my jaw before tightening possessively. This time around, he was bigger and stronger than me. I had a delicious feeling his dominant side was about to emerge.

  And I would enjoy every moment of it.

  Eager to get started, I grabbed the front of his tunic and yanked him against me.

  It was time to celebrate, anyway. Things were finally going my way.

  As long as the High Clifter and his soul mate stayed their fated course, the destruction my son and his whore had started all those years ago could finally be put to rest.

  And then…

  Then I could have a peaceful conclusion with this good, kind, and honest man and hopefully be forgi
ven for everything I’d done wrong.

  * * *

  The end.

  * * *

  Indigo’s adventures will continue someday with:

  Mark of Love

  About the Author

  Linda writes romance fiction from YA to adult, contemporary to fantasy. Most Kage stories lean more toward the lighter, sillier side with a couple meaningful moments thrown in. Focuses more on entertainment value and emotional impact.

  Published since 2010. Went through a 2-year writing correspondence class in children’s literature from The Institute of Children’s Literature. Then graduated with a Bachelor of Arts, English with an emphasis in creative fiction writing from Pittsburg State University.

  Now she lives with her hubby, two daughters, cat Holly, and nine cuckoo clocks in southeast Kansas, USA. Farm girl. Parents were dairy farmers. Was youngest of eight. Big family. Day job as a cataloging library assistant.

  Harry Potter House Gryffindor, Patronus White Stallion, character match Hagrid. Supernatural Team Dean. Game of Thrones Team Jon Snow and Tyrion Lannister. The Walking Dead Team Daryl. Outlander Team Jamie Fraser. Teen Wolf Team Stiles. Avenger Team Thor...or Hulk (can’t decide). Justice League Team Flash. Arrow Team Stephen Amell. Stranger Things obsessed. Heard Laurel, not Yanny.

  * * *

  Find her online at www.LindaKage.com