“I am sorry, Jem.” She squeezed, pulling him closer, and wrapped her free arm around him. “You know there is no solution for you and her. And yet, you keep putting yourself through all the misery of being in her presence—her service.”
Jemin let her pull him into a hug and rested his chin on top of her head, less than a whisper left in his throat as he responded. “There is nothing I can do.” And it sounded like an apology, a justification of his actions, his restlessness, his bloodlust when they went on the hunt.
“I know.” Seri sounded authentically heartbroken. It was a new side of her she hadn’t shown so far, and when Jemin leaned back to look her in the eye, he found somber darkness there behind the black of her irises.
They eyed each other for a moment of deep understanding, the way only the pack understood each other, then Jemin withdrew from Seri’s embrace to face the dead body he had caused.
“We’ll take him to the palace,” she answered his unspoken question. “Dad and Scott will know what to do.”
Jemin nodded, but in his heart, he felt embarrassed he hadn’t been able to maintain his professional distance and take the demon prisoner instead. They would have had a chance to ask all of the open questions that hung in the air: Where was Gan Krai hiding? What was his plan? Why was he so insistent on making Maray fulfill Rhia’s promise? What was in it for him?
With a sigh, he bent down and lifted the body over his shoulder. “Time to meet the military strategist of your future Queen, my pack master.”
They stayed hidden in the shadows as much as possible on the way back to the palace, but they couldn’t avoid curious eyes as they neared the palace gardens where people were walking by in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the Crown Princess or her fiancé. Jemin internally cringed as he thought of Heck as that—Maray’s future husband. It was a picture that filled him with horror almost equal to the thought of demons flooding Allinan. Even if it was obvious to him that he lacked perspective when it came to Maray, he couldn’t help finding his mind spinning around her. There was the pack, and there was Maray. The pack was his life, and Maray was his world.
Seri walked beside him in silence. Something more than the recent events was burdening her. He could see it in her eyes, in the slight hunch of her shoulders. When they entered the palace, Neelis was the first to rush toward them. He was in an animated conversation with Scott when his shifter-senses noticed Jemin’s and Seri’s scents.
“What happened?” He was at their side before Jemin could think up an excuse for the dead body hanging from his shoulder.
As Seri recapped, Scott, expression horrified, waved them into his study so they could have a private conversation. He sent one of the palace guards to find Maray and her father and Heck. Jemin swallowed. He was in no condition to face her again, let alone her and Heck together. His heart might burst into a thousand splinters. With a deep breath, Jemin stepped into the study through the heavy double doors and laid the body on the Persian rug. The blue and gold pattern made a nice contrast with the ashen skin of the slain.
While Neelis eyed Jemin with concern, Scott kept shuffling around the dead man, lifting his arm as if to convince himself he was really dead.
“You all right?” Neelis leaned toward Jemin and asked.
Ever since he had joined the pack, Neelis had taken a fatherly role in Jemin’s life. Nothing escaped his attention, and it wasn’t due to his heightened senses. On the contrary, it was his empathy as a man who had suffered on his own, along with his compassion, which made him incredibly receptive to his pack’s moods.
Jemin forced another nod. “I didn’t have to kill him,” he admitted in a whisper that would escape Scott’s but not Seri’s attention. Neither did the pained expression in his eyes.
“You had no choice,” Seri whispered equally quietly. “He was about to kill you.”
While Neelis raised an eyebrow, ready to enquire about details, the doors burst open and Maray walked in, followed by Pia, whose eyes were cautiously checking Jemin’s as if to ask if he was okay. And again, Jemin was grateful his pack-sister was Maray’s handmaiden and faithfully at her side when he couldn’t be—while that feeling of gratitude toward Heck was gradually replaced with a sickening sense of jealousy, which made it hard for Jemin to control himself. Thankfully, Heck wasn’t with them when they entered the room and joined Scott in examining the corpse.
Maray’s face was unreadable, her eyes a solid lapis-lazuli blue reminding him more of the texture of the gemstone than the color. She didn’t look up at Jemin, carefully avoiding his gaze as she set step after step around the dead man as if trying to figure something out. She was dressed in Thaotine pants and a burgundy tailcoat, which left the front of her thighs free and emphasized her curves in a way that made Jemin’s heart thump in his throat. Biting back a wince, he stepped toward the window and leaned against the windowsill with his hip, arms folded across his chest to keep his heart well locked away behind his ribs, and watched a pair of blackbirds outside fight over something on the ground.
He didn’t interfere when Seri repeated the details of the hunt, graciously leaving out the specifics of why Jemin had stabbed the man. Instead, he focused on anything that could distract him from Maray’s accelerated breathing as she learned about Gan Krai’s message. He didn’t look over his shoulder to check whether she was all right the way his impulses suggested. He didn’t need to.
“So it’s really happening,” Maray eventually said when there was nothing more to tell. “There is no way out. He is coming for me.”
Only then did Jemin turn, compelled by the fear in her voice. Her eyes instantly locked on his as if she had been speaking only to him. As if there was no one in the room but them. And words formed in Jemin’s throat, words he knew weren’t right to speak. That he was going to protect her. That she never needed to fear as long as he was around. That he was going to stay by her side forever to make sure she was safe.
Though, each of those words, beautiful as they might have felt to speak, weren’t true. He alone wasn’t enough to protect Maray from an immortal warlock with an army of Shalleyn at his command. He hadn’t even been able to protect her from Rhia. He hadn’t been able to defeat Gan Krai when given the chance. Instead, he had ended up a wicked anomaly of fate. A shifter who had little control over his impulses, his instincts. He was at the mercy of his pack master, who graciously treated him like a son, the way he treated all of his pack, but he was in no way in a place where he could promise her anything but the moment. And that would never be enough for Jemin. He clutched his sides under his arms, forcing himself to remain in place before any of his thoughts could hatch into spoken words. For now, Maray was on the right track to save Allinan and herself. As long as she had the council and the nobles at her side, she’d stand a chance. He had accepted that a long time ago—with his mind, not with his heart.
“How much time do you think we have?” Maray asked no one in particular this time, her eyes back on the dead man.
Jemin didn’t dare to look anywhere but out the window as she asked the question. Fury was forming in his chest again almost as desperately as when he had run-through the demon with his sword, his heart fiercely battling his head.
“How exactly did you kill him?” Scott asked for the first time. As Seri had predicted, the Commander seemed astounded by Jemin’s success in slaying a demon.
Jemin, however, couldn’t see it as a success. It was an artifact of his weakness that he had let the demon provoke him, a sign that his head was losing the battle. “I didn’t think he would die,” he responded, unable to tell what exactly he had been thinking other than that he wanted to live—live to make sure Gan Krai never laid his hands on Maray.
“It was self-defense,” Seri came to his aid. “The bastard tried to suffocate him, and Jem acted on instinct.”
Seri’s explanation was probably closest to the truth. It didn’t make Jemin feel any better, though.
“He was a demon,” Neelis pointed out. “He
was already dead.”
“That’s what he said,” Seri commented darkly. “And yet, he is even deader now.”
“This is not a demon.” Ambassador Johnson surprised everyone as he entered the room. Maray jerked around as her father joined the group of people in Scott’s office, leaving a moment for Jemin to steal another heart-wrenching glimpse of her. “This is Martin Morgan, one of the missing spies.”
Jemin had heard about them. The spies who had gone missing and the three who had returned too damaged to speak what had happened to them. Now, one of the missing ones had turned up, dead by Jemin’s hand. He swallowed a new wave of guilt and lowered his gaze.
“What happened to him?” the Ambassador wanted to know. “Besides being stabbed and not bleeding a single drop of blood.” He examined the hole in the man’s chest with sharp eyes.
“He must have served as a host for a Shalleyn,” Scott thought out loud. “The smoke you described, the way his body was already dead…”
“Smoke like the one when I tried to bite the shadow in the woods,” Jemin specified.
While the Ambassador listened to the conversation, he made a strange gesture and drew a symbol on the dead man’s forehead.
“A sign of respect, a last farewell for the spies between worlds,” he explained as he caught Jemin staring.
Jemin nodded, lost for words. Inside his stomach, a knot had formed, which was now threatening to spread and consume his chest as well.
“Gan Krai is using the missing spies to secretly get Shalleyn into Allinan,” Neelis said, following Scott’s train of thought. “They are serving as hosts for his Shalleyn scouts.”
“Hosts have to be dead to bear the force of the demon inside of them. They are no more than cloaks to the Shalleyn,” the Ambassador said with horror.
“So they are all dead?” Maray comprehended. “Gan Krai killed them all?”
“He or the Shalleyn,” Scott said curtly and eyed the dead body with sorrow before he glanced at the Ambassador. “It looks like we’re on our own.”
The Ambassador nodded, and the room couldn’t have become more silent.
Maray
Maray watched through lace curtains the way the afternoon-sun melted the last bits of ice on her windowsill.
They had gone two weeks without answers. No new Shalleyn sightings, no messages, no new threats. Corey had helped Scott and Neelis make a plan to track down whatever of the spies might be left. Even if they had been turned into demon-hosts, a strong warlock could still track them, she hoped.
Despite her help from the sidelines, Maray hadn’t seen her friend since the funeral. Whenever Wil was on guard duty, he would tell Maray about how miserable Corey was, how she was rarely leaving the warlock quarters other than for her checkups of Maray’s father or when a new warlock needed testing or when there was a need for her healing skills. “She’s been shutting everyone out, lately,” Wil had noted with sadness, “including me.”
It pained Maray to see that the emerging love between Corey and Wil was being affected by something that was neither of their fault. It only added to the burden she was already carrying. She wasn’t ready for the responsibility of ruling an entire realm, but she also knew that the alternatives might be even worse for Allinan. If Oliver Gerenhoff made it onto the throne, he would treat Allinan with as little respect as he treated her. Anyone who was eager to rule would be an option that might destroy Allinan. She was fragile, recovering from the loss of a leader and a promising and prosperous future with Princess Laura crowned new regent. Now, she was left with a scared child as her only hope. It wasn’t exactly what Maray would wish if she was an Allinan commoner. She wouldn’t want to see a girl, sixteen years of age, with little to no experience with Allinan and her history on the throne. But for some reason, the Allinan people adored her. They listened to her speeches, spellbound and convinced she was speaking the truth—when all Maray was speaking were wild hopes that she could make a difference. Desperate words to beat opponents like Oliver Gerenhoff, not to mention the looming threat of Gan Krai.
A knock on the door made her cringe. Any sound that came unexpectedly had that effect on her. She was petrified. Ever since her mother’s death, she wasn’t leading a life. She was a ghost of herself—functioning when needed, smiling when expected, nodding and talking and waving. But the Maray who had felt strong, powerful with her magic, hopeful and spirited was gone. She hadn’t even attempted to tame her magic to be able to utilize it better. What was the point if Gan Krai was going to be her opponent?
“Come in!” She turned toward the door, her hand clasping the Cornay dagger hidden under her tailcoat Pia had gotten her.
The door swung open and revealed the sight of a familiar face, making Maray’s heart jump into her throat.
“I can stay outside the doors,” Jemin said, his bright-blue eyes cautious. “Shift-change,” he clarified. “Just thought I’d let you know that I am on duty for the rest of the day.” His head withdrew as quickly as it had popped in, not giving Maray a chance to object.
With a glance around the room, Maray sought courage. Heck was out with Seri, gathering intel on whatever it was Oliver Gerenhoff was up to. The thought of Gerenhoff sickened him, and Heck had promised to take care of him personally. Seri had offered her help.
Pia had retreated, returning to the safe house to gather news about what was going on inside the pack right after bringing Maray a cup of tea and a small plate of sweet dumplings. Maray had been using the rare moment of solitude to indulge in thoughts of running away. But it didn’t matter. Whatever direction she’d flee, she would never be able to shake the fact that she’d have betrayed not only the people she loved but an entire people that believed in her.
She was tired, mentally and physically, and all she was longing for was to look into Jemin’s eyes for a while, to find comfort in the blue depths that he had closed off from her.
“Please, come in,” she said with a shaky voice, sure he’d hear her even through the closed door.
Instantly, the door cracked open. “You sure?” Jemin asked with a frown, which was half-hidden by his hair falling over his forehead as he tilted his head to peek inside.
Maray nodded, not trusting her voice. She hadn’t been alone with Jemin since before the suitors’ ball, and butterflies threatened to take off in large swarms as she thought back to that moment of uncontrolled heat. She hid a blush with a sideways glance out the window.
“You were hoping to have some peace and quiet out there?” she joked as Jemin slipped inside, hesitating to close the door. “You can close it,” Maray encouraged much to her own surprise. “We can be quiet in here together.”
Jemin closed the door noiselessly and stood beside it, looking as contained as the soldier she had met months ago, but there was something about the look in his eyes that gave away that everything had changed for him. “There is never any peace and quiet in my mind,” he admitted. “No matter how silent the room.”
A smile formed on Maray’s lips at the sound of his voice speaking to her again. “No matter,” Maray agreed. She walked to the blue couch and sat down with crossed legs, running her hands over the buttons of her coat to keep her hands from reaching out for Jemin.
Jemin’s lips twitched at her motion.
For a while, both of them remained quiet, taking Maray’s offer and sticking with it. With Jemin there, by the door for once, Maray’s mind fell silent. Every other second, she peeked at him, checking whether he was still here, and found his eyes resting on her, his gaze like an invisible layer of protection—protection of her heart, her sanity.
“What are you being quiet about?” he eventually asked when Maray held his gaze.
Maray shrugged. “I can’t remember.”
Jemin pulled his lower lip in between his teeth.
“You?” Maray asked.
“Life,” he answered, mimicking her shrug.
“You don’t need to stand by the door for the rest of the day,” Maray informed Jemin w
ith a knot in her chest. “I’m sure Heck won’t mind if you sit with me.”
Jemin’s smile disappeared, and his face paled as if he suddenly remembered. “I’m okay here.”
Maray fought back the pain of rejection and maintained an upward curve on her lips. “I’m not.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I am not okay with you over there,” she clarified and swallowed the rising nervousness. “I’d rather have you here beside me.” Maray was aware it was wrong to push him, but for now, she couldn’t think of anything else but feeling Jemin’s warmth beside her. Even if they would only sit side by side. His nearness gave her comfort.
“If that’s what my Queen commands…” Jemin lowered his head in the indication of a bow and walked over to sit next to Maray.
His weight on the sofa lifted Maray’s ever-so-slightly, but not the weight his words had put on her heart.
“I’m not your Queen, Jem.”
With shock, Maray noticed the change in Jemin’s face at the mention of his nickname from her lips. The set expression usually present in his features was replaced by a tenderness that piqued in his eyes, his irises lighting up with raging blue fire, granting her insight into the depths she’d been missing.
“But you are. Always. No matter what you are or are not for Allinan. You are the Queen of my heart.” He spoke as if he wasn’t even noticing he was saying the words, and Maray listened as if she was only imagining he’d spoken. His hands reached out to gently cup her face. “With a crown of beauty and a scepter of generosity.” He leaned in, locking her face in place before his, and Maray held her breath. She couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t want to move. Any tiny doubt creeping up on her from a distant world they no longer belonged to was shut out by the silence he instilled in her—the peace. And when his lips were only an inch from hers, she inhaled his breath and leaned closer to force the gap to disappear.
Two Worlds of Dominion Page 6