The warlock didn’t hesitate but offered the information willingly. “Krai found a way to fold the borders between worlds. The same way he lets both dimensions exist in the room under the Coronation Hall, he found a way to use the folds between them. That’s where Corey is, and that’s where he holds his devil-children.” He eyed Maray over Jemin’s broad shoulders, and she knew he wasn’t done, that there was more, even worse—
“That’s where the demons pool. They have been roaming the other world, but Gan Krai is giving them passage to cross the borders more freely. He sends them after your people, Princess, and there is nothing you can do.”
Nothing she could do? What was he saying? “Do you expect me to take Gan Krai’s offer then?” she spat. “Marry him? Let him use me to get on the throne? And then once he has what he wants, let him do whatever with me?”
Feris flinched at her words as did the rest of the room with the exception of Jemin, who was shaking uncontrollably.
“Over my dead body,” he barked, and Maray thought she glimpsed Yutu paws instead of hands.
“Easy,” Pia warned him. “Or I’ll have to take you outside.”
That did the trick, and Jemin’s frame stabilized at the prospect of leaving Maray behind.
“Of course not,” Feris agreed. “Because if you do, there will be nothing left for you to rule except for darkness and despair.”
Maray shuddered.
“We’ll gather everyone we can trust. Scott, Neelis and the pack…” Gerwin automatically started planning.
“You’ll need to get into the folds to retrieve Corey if you don’t want to wait until it is too late and there is nothing left of her,” Feris agreed. “I can take you there.”
Maray thanked Feris, still unsure whether or not she could entirely trust him. A glance at Pia and Wil told her that they were going to take Feris up on the offer whether Maray approved or not.
“Very well, then.” Maray nodded. “Take us to her.”
Jemin jerked around and grabbed her by the shoulders, forgetting that they weren’t alone, and his blue gaze made clear he wasn’t going to let her go whether she liked it or not.
“We cannot risk putting you in danger more than necessary,” Heck agreed with Jemin for once. Maybe he, too, had read the panic in Jemin’s eyes as Maray had included herself in a potential party for the mission.
It was Gerwin who settled it before Maray could even work up her temper to get upset to be left behind. “You’re staying, Maray.” Jemin nodded in approval. “And you’re staying with her.”
While Jemin seemed to still be processing Gerwin’s order with a weird, bewildered expression, Heck was already back to his old self.
“So, how do we get into those folds between?” He grinned, his spirit thriving at the thought of a good fight—especially if it was alongside Seri.
“They’ll be back in no time.” Jemin had settled in the blue armchair closest to the window where he had been sitting, oddly silent, for the past hours. Despite all of Maray’s questions, he hadn’t spoken about the mission or why he hadn’t fought Gerwin’s order—
Because he had promised he’d never leave her side again.
Maray shuddered. It was still unclear to her what exactly had happened.
Claimed. It sounded stupid in her head. But there was something different in the way she saw him. The slow rise and fall of his muscled chest as she watched him was like the rising tide of the ocean. She remembered the ocean from vacations in her childhood. Short trips to the shore with sun and sand and salty water that now, in her memories, tasted like tears. His eyes, blue as the sky, were surveying every movement in the courtyard, and when he blinked—it was so rare, unnatural almost, as if he was anxious he would miss something—his frame would shake for a fraction of a second.
She could see it there under his Thaotine shirt, his caramel locks, curling along his neck and framing his face, the animal, the beast that he’d become.
“They will find her,” he said without looking at her, probably sensing her staring at him.
She hadn’t been thinking about Corey, but now that he’d brought it up… “What if she is beyond rescue?”
It was a thought that Maray, until now, hadn’t allowed herself to think. But as the evening drew near and darkness was slowly settling around the palace, it became her only thought. That and that Jemin had claimed her with a breath and a touch of his Yutu nose. Her hand absently flicked to the point he’d breathed on.
What could she do? What, but sit around and wait? Hadn’t she just tried to take her life back into her own hands? And here she was yet again, waiting for others to fix things, to save the ones she loved. The only difference was that today, she didn’t need to fear that Jemin would never return.
Jemin turned his head as if he’d heard her, a wry smile decorating his sensual lips. “Seri is one hell of a soldier,” he stated as if Maray had asked about her. But as he continued, his real intention shone through. “Heck is lucky she doesn’t despise him. If I’d stare at her the way Heck sometimes does, she’d tear my head off.”
He might have tried to make Maray smile, but instead, everything recoiled inside of her. There seemed to have been a time when Jemin had stared at her that way. And it had ended in one-on-one sparring. Maray grimaced, keeping her thoughts to herself. Did it matter who he’d slept with—or how many? He had claimed her. And she didn’t know what to do with it. All she knew was that it was harder than ever to keep her eyes off of the hard muscles on Jemin’s arms and chest, visible through the layer of Thaotine as he rested his head back, his eyes piercing Maray like they were trying to see right into her soul.
A soft knock on the door saved Maray from Jemin’s inquisitive look.
Jemin was on his feet before Maray had a chance to become scared. His hand, gesturing for her to remain where she was on the edge of her bed, and not to move, reached down to the side of his thigh where he had strapped his short sword. Maray grabbed for her own dagger, the Cornay weapon, which she had reinstalled as a permanent part of her attire.
As Jemin silently leapt to the door, his movements precise and lethal like one of the silent beasts he’d slain for a job, he nodded at Maray, indicating for her to answer the door.
“Who’s there?” Her voice trembled.
“Sara Brendal.”
Maray’s eyes widened in a new type of fear as she summoned Heck’s mother and Jemin opened the door for her, sword still at the ready.
Sara Brendal crossed the threshold, bringing with her the scent of rosewood and cinnamon. “Apologies for the late disturbance, Your Royal Highness.” She stopped right where Jemin had put himself between her and Maray, halfway between the door and the bed, waiting for him to let her through.
Maray rose to her feet, facing her almost mother-in-law with shame.
“It’s all right, Jem,” Maray whispered, unable to find her voice. “Let her pass.”
With a sigh of reluctance, Jemin stood aside and gestured for Sara to sit by the coffee table where he took a stance behind Maray, who sat down across from Sara.
“And here I’d thought we were on good terms, Jemin,” she said over Maray’s shoulder, her eyes showing mild confusion. “Heck’s friends used to be Emir’s and my friends.”
From Heck’s and Jemin’s stories about their childhood, Maray knew that wasn’t entirely true. That Heck had been on bad terms with his parents for his rebel lifestyle, for not caring one bit about his nobility—until he’d fallen in line and become a suitor for Maray and her fiancé. Who he no longer was.
“I have no problem being your friend, Sara,” Maray offered after a moment of consideration. Whatever it was Sara Brendal had to say must be important enough to seek her out long after the end of the council meeting. It wasn’t common for anyone but the closest advisors and family to do that.
Sara gave her a smile, which seemed well-practiced and not heartfelt at all, and laced her fingers together in her lap on top of a chocolate-colored dress made o
f raw silk.
Jemin, however, didn’t react other than to relax the grip on his weapon. From the corner of her eye, Maray could swear she saw him shaking.
“What is it that you need to talk about with me?” Maray met Sara’s stare.
Sara took a long breath, which she blew out between tight lips, the corners of her mouth plunging down as if she was taking off a mask. “Emir and I talked.”
Maray adjusted her posture to brace herself for whatever was coming and waited.
“The council is not happy with your decision not to marry my son,” she informed Maray, but that wasn’t the core of the message, Maray could tell, too. There was more. “But that’s what they see it as—a decision, not a request. The second you left to go after Feris, discussions broke loose about how to best get rid of you.” Her eyes darted at Jemin, who had stepped forward, blade in hand. “I am not here to assassinate the Princess, fool.” A sour expression threaded into the woman’s mild lines. “I am here to make sure that coronation happens.” Her eyes were still on Jemin, carefully assessing the danger.
Maray, for now, ignored him. One glance at the muscled thigh before her, and she’d be distracted again, so she didn’t allow her eyes to wander east.
“You’ve given us—my family—Unterly’s position in the council. That’s an honor I didn’t expect… And, may I speak bluntly?”
Maray nodded.
“It’s something none of us expected without the marriage alliance we’d been after.” Her face warmed as she spoke, now more honest it seemed, and it let Jemin be at ease again. “So Emir and I decided it should be I. Not Heck, not him, but I who fills the position.”
Maray waited for the woman to finish her thought, genuine interest building up and the fear of being scolded retreating to the back of her mind.
“It should be a woman,” Sara explained. “This throne has been in female hands for decades… While the council has been led by men for the same amount of time and longer. It is time for a change. For a female leader to have someone at her side who she can trust and who understands not only the politics but what it’s like to be trapped in a corset.”
A smile crossed her face, and Maray returned it, finding it a gift to have gained a different sort of allegiance when she seemed to have lost most of the council.
“Thank you, Sara, for your kind words.” Maray inclined her head, and Sara returned the gesture before she turned to Jemin again and said, “You can sheath that thing now, Jemin.”
Somehow, her tone wasn’t as cold as before though.
“I’m not going to let you be overrun by men who want to ensure their power,” Sara reassured Maray.
“But you wanted Heck at my side as my husband and on the throne…” Confusion crept into Maray’s mind.
“Princess Laura wanted Hendrick at your side because—stubborn and rebellious as my son may be—” She laughed for a brief moment as if looking back in time. “Hendrick is one of the most loyal people if he believes in something.” She gave Maray a long meaningful look. “And he believes in you. He believes in an Allinan led by you and in a realm where peace is more than an illusion installed by a corrupt queen and a demon-commanding warlock.” With those words, she turned to Jemin. “And you, Jemin,” she sounded as if she was speaking to Jemin, the boy rather than Jemin, the man, who had taken on the job as Maray’s living shield, “Why don’t you sit with us? I’m sure your Princess won’t mind.”
Maray finally allowed herself to look and found Jemin’s eyes boring into hers. “If I may, Your Royal Highness.” He bowed, and Maray nodded mechanically. Why did he ask? He never asked. At least, not since he’d turned into a Yutu.
He held her gaze as he lowered himself into a chair slightly angled toward Maray and laid down his sword across his knees.
It took Maray a moment to free herself from those bright eyes, from the layers of questions they shot at her, and the smoldering that seemed to have developed a life of its own.
“Better,” Sara commented with a nod.
“So, how exactly are you planning to make that coronation happen,” Jemin asked, seeing Sara’s invitation to sit with them as invitation to participate in the discussion.
Sara raised an eyebrow. “The council never wanted to wait with the coronation, it was your Princess who wanted to wait after the funeral of the Queen and Princess Laura,” she pointed out, face grim and with an apology for mentioning the funeral in her eyes as she looked at Maray.
And Maray faintly remembered. The first days, when the council had pushed for information about their deaths. The weeks of avoiding the topic of the coronation or the wedding. And then, the day her father had returned from the other world, and the council had cornered her about moving up the coronation. They had wanted it to ensure her reign. And she had declined, too broken to even think of being a leader. How things had changed. Back then, the wedding hadn’t been the issue. Today, she no longer possessed a marriage alliance, which would qualify her in the council’s eyes to be crowned—even with her sleek and impeccable bloodline. Today, they were the ones hesitating to install her as a queen—
And she was done waiting.
“As your new advisor, may I state my opinion?” Sara requested.
Maray didn’t know what to expect, but she nodded, a gesture she felt she was exhausting, but words kept failing her these days.
“You don’t need a majority of the council to move up the coronation, but you need the head of council’s approval—which would be mine—and then you need the people of Allinan. The people of the capital will suffice. They can easily sway the council in your favor if they want you on the throne and become verbal about it.”
“You want to start a rebellion?” Jemin asked disbelievingly. “I thought that was Heck’s job.”
“Maybe I am who my son gets his ideas from,” she admitted. “I wasn’t always the obedient court-lady I am now, and Emir very well knows that if I have to make a choice between the court and justice, justice it will be.”
As Sara spoke, Maray couldn’t help but feel impressed by the woman whose eyes gleamed like dark gems, soft as chocolate—like Heck’s—and fiery like someone else Maray knew—Seri. This person before her would help her navigate the council in a way not even her father could. Where diplomacy and manners failed, Sara would help with her experience of Allinan and her people.
“We start tomorrow,” Sara suggested and listed a few places where it would be wise for Maray to give speeches before she finally fell silent after one last question. “What did Feris want?”
“Feris is taking a delegation to Gan Krai’s hideout.”
Sara swallowed. “Is Hendrick with them?” Fear surfaced in her expression at the mention of the warlock’s name.
For a moment, Maray weighed the option of not telling Sara that her son was out there, hunting Shalleyn on a rescue mission for Corey, whose mind had probably been corrupted, but then, she saw the resemblance between Heck’s and Sara’s eyes, and she said, “Heck is doing what he does best. He is saving the worlds.”
Sara had long left, giving Maray much to consider, and Jemin was studying her over the coffee table, gaze almost as intent as when he’d watched the courtyard.
“Are you going to do it?” he asked, his own opinion about Maray leaving the safety of the palace and stepping in front of people shimmering through in his tone.
Maray shrugged. And it wasn’t just that there wasn’t much else she could do.
She had seen how the people reacted to her in an audience. She knew that she could gain their favor for being a queen without a husband, just as the person she was. Hadn’t Jemin said once that she didn’t belong to anyone, but if she did, it would be Allinan? That was what she had to tell them.
Jemin’s eyes grew weary. “You are, aren’t you?”
Again, Maray shrugged. “Are you going to stop me?”
Her question brought a strange, unfamiliar look onto his face. It made her uneasy.
“Not if I don’t wan
t to upset my Queen.”
“Future Queen,” Maray corrected.
“It doesn’t make a difference.” Jemin threw a hand behind his neck and leaned back, face unchanged.
Maray also remembered that Jemin had told her that she would always be his Queen. It had been before he had claimed her. But it had stuck. “I will never leave your side,” he added.
As if he had to repeat that. Something tightened in Maray. At first, she thought it was Jemin’s gaze on her that made her nervous, but it was something different… A scent like fir trees and soil and snow. It tickled her nose, but the effect ran deeper.
“What happened?” Jemin asked, slightly alarmed by Maray’s sudden accelerated breathing and racing heart.
Maray shook her head, and instead of speaking, she took a deep breath. And another, trying to locate the scent.
It was him.
Maray closed her eyes, the melting winter trickling into her system. It was him. Snow, and fir trees and soil. And she could feel it. The change happening somewhere deep inside her chest.
“Maray?”
Jemin was next to her in a fraction of a second, his hands on her arm and thigh, voice breathy and alarmed. An electric current ran through Maray where his fingers brushed against her—even with the barrier of fabrics between their skins. And the sensation it created, oh, the sensation…
“Are you unwell?” Jemin asked in the background, now going into panic mode. “Maray!”
A shake on her shoulders was what it took to bring her back from whatever place she’d just gone. She blinked the moisture from her eyes, surprised as droplets of saltwater fell into her lap. And Jemin’s face was close. So close. Too close—
“Maray.” Her name was a breath on his lips. His sensual, parted lips, which shimmered with the fresh wetness of running a tongue over them.
And it was then that her gaze locked with his. Fully locked. And she drowned in the blue ocean that was his eyes. Drowned and wondered if it was any use even trying to fight it. A breeze of snow and fir enveloped her as he leaned in, close enough to brush his lips against hers.
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