by Donna Grant
Death smiled. “Your child will grow up safe from the Dark, Kyran.”
To Cael’s shock, Kyran pressed the pad of his finger against the corner of his eye as he ducked his head, obviously overcome with emotion.
“Go to River,” Cael told Kyran.
Erith nodded. “Aye, and Eoghan, take your Reapers to their new home. All of you go and rest. You deserve it.”
In seconds, they were alone.
Cael wanted to reach for her, but he was suddenly nervous. So much had changed, especially himself. It blew his mind that he was equal in power to Death. It wasn’t something he’d wanted, but now that he had it, he found he liked it. A lot.
She took a few steps away before she faced him. “My heart was ripped out of my chest when I thought you’d died.”
“Don’t you understand? I’d die a million times for you.”
A tear fell down her cheek. “The only reason I didn’t crumble into a thousand pieces was because I intended to make Bran pay for taking you away from me. I spent thousands of years hiding what I felt for you.”
“And what do you feel?” he pressed, hope nearly bursting from his chest.
She stared at him for a long moment. “I love you. Don’t you know that?”
His legs ate up the ground between them as he rushed to her, pulling her against him. “You’ve had my heart from the first moment I saw you. I became a Reaper just to be near you, just to be able to see you. I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined you’d be mine. I love you for everything you are—and everything you’ll be.”
“Cael,” she whispered before bringing his head down to meet hers.
The kiss was explosive, fiery. He couldn’t stop kissing her. After believing he’d never hold her again, he never wanted to let her go. She felt right in his arms, and in his heart.
“You can’t be a Reaper,” she said between kisses.
He pulled his head back and gawked at her. “What?”
She laughed and smoothed her hands over his face. “First, I want you with me. We are going to be together, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you can’t lead them.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but still. Not be a Reaper? He’d been one far longer than he’d lived as a Fae.
“And,” Erith said, pulling his thoughts back to her. “There’s the little thing of your new magic.”
He grinned. “I’m still getting used to it.”
“I don’t understand how it happened.”
“Are you upset by it?”
It was her turn to be taken aback. “Never! Finally, I have someone who matches me in every way. I’m overjoyed by it.”
“Good,” he said and tried to kiss her again.
But she put a finger between them so that he kissed that instead of her mouth.
He frowned in frustration, his lips twisting. “What? I want to kiss you.”
“I’d like to do much more than that, but before we get to that—because we both know it’ll be days before we come up for air—we need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” he asked with a grin.
She eyed him. “In a manner.”
“Can we do it now? Because I can’t stop thinking of stripping you out of your clothes and having my way with you.”
“Fair enough,” she murmured seductively. “Are you going to be okay giving up being part of the Reapers?”
“I’ll have you, which is what I really want.”
She quirked a brow. “That won’t be enough after a while, and you know that.”
Damn the woman for always being right. “I suppose you have an idea.”
“I do.”
“Care to share it?”
“Later,” she replied slyly.
Cael held her tighter. “I’ve been yours to command since I saw you that first time. I’ll always stand beside you.”
“Take me home and make love to me.”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
Chapter Thirty-two
Dark Palace
Something was different. Balladyn couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but it was definitely . . . something.
He hadn’t hesitated in helping the Reapers, though he couldn’t quite figure out why that had brought him such joy. No doubt it had something to do with dealing a swift and decisive blow to both Bran and Usaeil.
Balladyn’s hatred of the Light Queen ran deep. Not just because of what she’d done to him, but because of what she continued to do to Rhi. And her aligning with Bran couldn’t go by without some sort of reaction.
He quite liked how the Reapers responded—and that he was involved.
But why had they asked him? More importantly, what did that mean for him? Especially now that he not only knew their faces but also Death’s.
He slowly walked through his chambers to his bookshelves. Balladyn halted by the table and stared down at the books laid out that had any mention whatsoever of the Reapers.
It was Rhi’s question about them that had sent him delving into the tomes and researching the mysterious group and all the different stories involving them.
Balladyn closed a book and left his hand on top of the cover. He had so many questions, but in all honesty, he was a little afraid to ask them. After all, he’d seen with his own eyes just what Death could do. And it far surpassed his own power as king or even what Usaeil could muster.
There was a part of him that wondered if it was a good sign that Death had visited him. Did it mean that he might become a Reaper?
He gave a shake of his head. Balladyn knew well what he was—and all that he’d done. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that something so grand could be within his grasp. Maybe once. But not now.
A stirring in the air around him caused him to stiffen. “I expected I’d get a visit,” he said and lifted his head only to meet the red-rimmed, white eyes of Fintan.
The Fae lifted a brow. “Did you now?”
“Aye. Just not from you.”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt Death will want to have a little chat.”
It had taken one betrayal to make Balladyn wary of everyone, including Fintan. “Then why are you here?”
“To tell you that I’m glad you joined us.”
That took Balladyn aback. “I wasn’t expecting gratitude.”
“We asked for your help, and you granted it. Of course, we’re thankful,” Fintan said with a confused frown. “You’ve been mired too long in deceit and treachery to recall what it’s like to be a part of something good.”
“I remember.” That was the appalling part of it all.
Fintan eyed Balladyn for a long, silent moment. “Aye. I think you do. Why did you leave the battle?”
“The words exchanged by Death and Cael were private. Or, at the very least, for other Reapers. It seemed an intrusion to stay.”
“You should’ve remained. You helped us win, and you should be part of the celebration.”
Balladyn shook his head. “Thank you, but I have other duties.”
Fintan glanced down as he sighed. “I saw you watching Death and Cael. You long for such a relationship. With Rhi.”
He didn’t bother asking the Reaper how he knew such a thing. There were no doubt many things the Reapers knew about him. “It has always been her. There is no other for me.”
“Then hold onto her.” Fintan looked around, taking in the entire upper floor of the palace. “I see a big difference between you and Taraeth.” He turned his head to Balladyn. “You care about the Dark. Taraeth never would’ve joined us. He would’ve sent you in his stead, just to be sure he wasn’t killed.”
Balladyn nodded slowly. “That’s true. So, Death would’ve asked Taraeth to join her?”
“Nay,” Fintan stated implicitly.
That made Balladyn smile. “I didn’t think so.”
“Death’s decision to come to you wasn’t done lightly. You need to understand that. Everything she does is done after careful thought and
consideration. She weighs every variable, thinks through all the different outcomes.”
Balladyn wasn’t sure what to say to such a statement. He stared at Fintan as the Reaper’s words sank in. “Do you like being a Reaper?”
“Very much. It isn’t an easy job, but I’ve found somewhere I belong with others who have become my family.”
Balladyn came around the table to stand opposite Fintan. “What happens to me now? In all my research on the Reapers, I never found any definitive answers. Now, I not only know you, but I’ve seen firsthand just how powerful each of you is.”
“I wish I could tell you what Death has planned, but I didn’t ask. Our rule is that any Fae who knows of us must die. It’s why Bran betrayed the Reapers. He told a female he was in love with, breaking our rules. Death killed her.”
Balladyn swallowed, unsurprised by Fintan’s revelation. He’d hoped to lead the Dark for thousands of years, but it looked like his reign would be one of the shortest in Dark history.
“But,” Fintan continued, “Death could make an exception since she came to you, revealing herself and us in order to ask for your help.”
“I’m ready to die.”
Fintan’s brows snapped together. “I’m surprised by your words.”
“You shouldn’t be. I never wanted to become Dark. I was happy as a Light, and enjoyed leading the Queen’s Guard. I hoped to marry and have children with Rhi. Then Usaeil betrayed me, and I ended up with Taraeth. It would’ve been kinder had he killed me as he was supposed to. Instead, I’ve become this.”
He stopped, thinking of how he’d captured Rhi and hurt her. How she had forgiven him, he’d never know. He didn’t deserve it, that was for sure.
“So you’ll give up?” Fintan asked with a snort.
Balladyn moved past him to the full-length windows staring out over the vivid green landscape of Ireland. He’d never thought to love a place more than he did the Fae realm, but he’d actually come to adore Ireland.
The silence drew him back to the present, reminding him that Fintan was waiting for an answer. “Give up? I don’t really think I’d have a choice with Death.”
“It sounds as if you want to die.”
“Die? No,” he replied. “But I’m a realist. I may love Rhi with all that I am, but I can never have her. Not only am I Dark, but no matter how I’ve tried to ignore it, her heart was given to another long ago. And whatever affection she held for me, I recently ripped to shreds.”
Fintan came to stand beside him, his gaze out the window. “We all make mistakes. Talk to Rhi. Explain.”
“It will only prolong what I know is coming. I’ve seen what she hasn’t. Her Dragon King is once more dominating her world. I love her enough to let her go because I know she could never love me as she does him.” Balladyn turned his head to Fintan. “Perhaps that makes me pathetic, but I have enough dignity to want someone who loves only me.”
The Reaper smiled as he looked at Balladyn. “You were a great Light Fae, and I think you can be an even greater Dark. Remember all the things about Taraeth and Usaeil you knew were wrong and make sure you never do them.”
“I’ll probably make new mistakes.”
“That’s called living.”
Balladyn held out his arm to Fintan. They grasped forearms as he looked into the Reaper’s eyes. “I liked you the moment I saw you on the streets of Galway. Thank you for coming to see me.”
“The color of your eyes doesn’t define you. Remember that, King,” Fintan said as he released Balladyn’s arm.
With one last smile, the Reaper was gone.
Balladyn felt a kinship with Fintan. Maybe it was because they’d both been betrayed by those they served, or perhaps it was because they’d held the same position within the Dark. Either way, Balladyn considered him a friend.
It wasn’t something he’d had in a very long time. Once a Dark, he hadn’t trusted another, let alone opened up to anyone enough to become friends. The closest thing he had was Rhi, and even their relationship was tenuous at best.
He missed Fintan almost as soon as the Reaper left. The frank talk, the open and honest discussion was new to Balladyn. Or rather, a reminder of how his life had once been when he was Light.
It made him think of what his life could’ve been like had Usaeil not held such jealousy for Rhi and taken it out on anyone who loved Rhi. Balladyn turned his gaze back out the window, but it wasn’t the rolling green hills he saw.
Instead, it was an existence with Rhi as his wife with their children running around them. It could’ve been an amazing life full of love, laughter, and the occasional argument so they could make up again.
Balladyn closed his eyes as they burned with emotions. That life was the one he’d dreamed of while Rhi was falling for her Dragon King. Balladyn had kept a tight hold of it, which was the only way he’d gotten through those days.
But it was as fictional as thinking that he and Rhi could rule the Light and Dark together. And that’s what hurt the most.
Everything he’d wanted, everything he’d loved and held dear was gone, stripped away by a world bent on vengeance and ruin. He was King of the Dark, and yet he craved to reverse time and return to being a Light—even if he couldn’t have Rhi.
But he couldn’t do that. All he had was what was within his grasp now. Being a Dark—and King of the Dark—meant that he couldn’t trust anyone. There would never be a time when he could take a wife and climb into bed with her at night, telling her of his day and all that had gone wrong. There would never be a friend he could talk through his decisions with.
And there would never be children.
Fintan had said he’d given up. Perhaps. But he was disheartened with everything and so lonely that it was unbearable. Having the all too brief moment with the Reapers and then Fintan’s visit had only made Balladyn long for all the things he could never have.
He’d hated everything Taraeth was, but he knew he would end up just like the previous king. Everyone who led the Dark did because there was no way around it.
Balladyn thought about stepping aside and letting someone else become king. He thought of Ulrik and their pact to take down Usaeil. Would Ulrik still trust him now that he was safely ensconced back at Dreagan with the other Dragon Kings?
More importantly, did Balladyn even want to try? It had taken a lot to trust Ulrik, and now that he did, he didn’t think he could handle it if the Dragon King turned his back on him.
Balladyn opened his eyes once he had his emotions tightly leashed once again. He was tired of fighting with himself, weary of living in the past, and exhausted from wanting a woman who could never be his. He wanted it all to end.
It was time.
He turned away from the windows and glanced at the table of books. The one on the far corner caught his attention. The cover changed colors in different light, and it made him think of Xaneth.
If there was one thing he could do before Death found him, it was to find—and maybe even rescue—the Light Fae from Usaeil. The queen was a vindictive bitch, and since her alliance with Bran was now finished, she would take her anger out on her nephew.
Balladyn was aware that it might already be too late for Xaneth, but he had to try. For himself and the honorable, loyal Fae he’d once been.
He hurried to the table and moved aside the books so he could use his magic to search for any sightings of Usaeil continuing her masquerade as a movie star. She loved the attention too much to give it up, and if he could locate her, then Xaneth would no doubt be close by.
The hope that Balladyn had as he began his search dried up faster than water in a desert. Usaeil had seemingly vanished from the human world. There wasn’t a single picture or mention of her on any social media.
That only meant that Balladyn would have to find her the hard way.
Chapter Thirty-three
Erith couldn’t stop smiling as she looked out the window of her tower to watch the sunrise. She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it wou
ld be smooth sailing from here on out, but she no longer felt as if a storm raged around her constantly.
Because she had Cael.
“Seeing the unabashed delight on your face is going to make me vain,” Cael murmured as he came up behind her and moved her hair.
She sighed as he placed kisses along her neck, causing her to tilt her head sideways to give him better access. “You’ve had many reasons to be conceited, and yet you never acted it.”
“Perhaps. Then again, I never had you in my arms,” he whispered into her ear.
Erith turned to face Cael, looping her arms around his neck. “It’s been three days since we returned and holed up here in the tower.”
Cael leaned back as he shook his head. “If you say it’s time to go outside, I’m going to have to toss you onto the bed and remind you why that simply isn’t possible.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. She had laughed more in the last three days than in her entire life—which was a really long time.
He lifted her and spun, falling back on the bed as he held her against him. Then he rolled, pinning her beneath his hard body. “Why would you want to leave the tower?”
“Because we must.” She put her hand on his cheek and smiled. “We can’t stay in here and ignore our duties.”
“Your duties,” he corrected.
She shook her head. “Our duties.”
He rose up on his elbow and quirked a brow. “You really want to include me in that? Because I’m fine with standing behind you and letting you do all the work.”
“Nice try. I know you. You couldn’t do nothing even if your life depended upon it. The Fates deemed that you harness the magic that Bran used against you. For better or worse, you have as much as I do now.”
“I can feel the others trembling where they stand,” he said with a chuckle.
But she didn’t laugh. “You don’t understand the changes within you yet, but you will. Shall I show you how to judge the Fae?”
“If you want me to stand beside you, then I will. But you’re Death. That is your duty. I’ll find something else, mo shíorghrá.”
My eternal love. That made her smile. “I’m excited to find you something to call your own.”