by Everly Frost
The Phoenix glides toward a valley nestled between two hills. A shadow within the valley quickly takes the shape of a cabin as we close the distance. At the far end of the valley, a waterfall sparkles in the moonlight, pouring into a stream that ends in a lake next to the cabin.
I’m wary, but I have to trust that the phoenix wouldn’t bring us anywhere dangerous. It lands between the cabin and the lake, angling its strong wing so that I can carry Elyria from its back. She curls up against me. With my arms full, I can’t do more than nod a thank you to the phoenix, who settles down on the spot, telling me it isn’t going anywhere for now.
The whole valley is quiet, other than the calming whoosh from the waterfall. I carry Elyria up the steps, across the front porch to the cabin’s door, nudging it open. It’s dark and empty inside other than a bed, table, cupboard, and a fireplace. Tools are scattered across the table. I recognize them all from the mines. This must have been an old mining cabin. I can only guess as to why it’s empty, but possibly because Howl ordered the miners to mine the main mountains after he rose to power.
It’s dusty and dank inside. It’s clear it hasn’t been occupied in a long time. I whisper to Elyria, “You’re safe now. I’ll keep you safe.”
She whimpers a response, her head buried against my chest. I can’t do much about the dust on the bed, but the blanket looks soft enough.
I bend to place Elyria on it, but she doesn’t let me go, her arms clinging hard around my chest. “I need you, Jasper. Don’t go.”
“Okay.” I contemplate the little bed, but if she won’t release me, then we’ll just have to squeeze into it together. I’m dying to get rid of my bloody clothes, wash off the stain of battle, but there’s no chance of that while her arms are wrapped around my chest.
I carefully angle us both onto the bed, surprised when she hooks her leg around my hip, her upper arm sliding farther around my chest, curling into me and trapping me. Her head presses into the crook of my neck, her breath warm against my throat.
She sobs. “Don’t go.”
I stroke her hair and back, easing through the tangles, my chest hurting to hear her cry. “I won’t leave you, Elyria. As long as you want me to stay, I’ll be right here.”
She inhales a deep breath, a catch in her voice. “Thank you, Jasper. You are a good friend.”
We once had a conversation about friendship. She agreed to let me protect her and in return I promised not to die. “I kept my promise,” I whisper. “I stayed alive.”
I’m supposed to forget the battle—every soldier is trained to move past it—but the cries of the dying never leave me. Watching Cassian fall, hearing Marbella scream for help, and not being able to get to her—
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on Elyria’s warm body. She was trapped along with Baelen in Howl’s possession for a month. The miners didn’t hold back information about what living in Howl’s palace was like. Elyria would have been exposed to violence in the extreme.
Her warmth seeps through my cold thoughts, calming me.
She sounds a little stronger when she says, “You have never hurt me, Jasper Grace.”
I grip her body, wishing I could reach into her mind and obliterate her pain. “I’ll cut out my own heart before I ever do.”
“Don’t do that, Jasper,” she whispers. “I would miss you.”
I continue to stroke her back, easing out the tension in her body for a long time until her trembling finally stops and she falls asleep. When her breathing is quiet, I cast my eye around the cabin. It’s basic, but I can fix it, make a stove, maybe fashion a way to get running water into it. Military training taught me how to survive in difficult conditions, but I want to do more than survive here. I want to make Elyria a home.
I stop my thoughts there.
I promised her friendship. She trusts me. There are lines I won’t cross with her.
It feels like I closed my eyes for only seconds when her scream breaks through my dreams, jolting me awake.
She gasps beside me, her hands fisting my filthy shirt. “Black bird. Crimson power. Golden vines! Marbella! She isn’t safe.”
“Shh. It’s okay. You were having a nightmare.”
Her eyes are wide open for the first time since we arrived. “It felt real, Jasper. Too real.”
I stroke her cheek. “Marbella is with Baelen now. She’s safe. He won’t let anything happen to her.”
She drops her head to my chest, breathing out her fear. “I need to bathe.”
I nod. “Me too. There’s a waterfall farther along the valley. Would you like to go there?”
She nods. “Will you help me?”
“Get there? Of course.”
I pull her upright, thinking she’ll walk, but she wraps her long legs around my waist. Her dress hitches up around her waist as she drops her head to my shoulder, her wings encircling us. I inhale a quick breath, fighting the urge to close my eyes and find her lips. I remind myself sternly that she’s clinging to me because she needs to anchor herself somewhere, not because she wants more from me.
I carry her like that several hundred paces to the waterfall. She relaxes the closer we get to it, the tension draining from her body as the soothing sound of rushing water blocks out all other noises.
I stop at the water’s edge. “I should go in first and check the depth—”
“No.” Her legs tighten around me. “I’m coming with you.”
Since we left the deep springs, she hasn’t let go of me once. A reckless part of me doesn’t mind. I like the way she feels wrapped around me.
“Okay,” I say, a laugh in my voice. “But if you get dunked because I lose my footing, it won’t be my fault.”
She raises her serious brown eyes to mine. A curious smile plays around her lips. “Are you making a joke, Jasper Grace?”
I shake my head earnestly. “I’m serious.”
She bites her lip, a brief hint of her former confidence showing through. “If you dunk me, I’ll take you with me.”
“Fair enough.” I use my feet to remove my boots, awkwardly shifting side to side without placing her on the ground, before I wade into the water, stepping carefully. It’s smooth on the bottom and quickly deepens, but it’s rough enough to maintain my grip.
The water is surprisingly warm and the minute we’re immersed to our elbows, Elyria moans against me, her long lashes settling against her cheeks as she closes her eyes. The tension around her mouth disappears a second before she lets go of my chest, arches back, and drops her torso all the way back into the water, her wings spreading out under the surface while her legs remain wrapped around me.
“Elyria!” I move to grab her, to lift her out, but she stretches out under the water, completely immersed without breaking the contact between our bodies. She wriggles against me and before I can take a breath, her dress rises to the surface and floats away.
I freeze. Completely.
She can’t stay under the water forever, but I have no idea where I’ll put my hands now, where it will be okay to touch her.
The tips of her wings rise out of the water first, spearing the surface, then flattening out across it. She uses them to lift herself from the water, every gorgeous, sexy curve visible from her waist up. Shaking out her hair, she uses her wings and her stomach muscles to return upright to grip my chest.
She tugs at the bottom of my shirt. Some of the blood is already washing off and swirling in the water, making me cringe. I wrench the fabric over my head, flinging it onto the grass. My pants are filthy too, but at least the movement of the water carries the gore away.
Returning my focus to Elyria again, I resolutely keep my gaze on her face. Not below it.
She waits a beat. Her hands remain on my waist as she rests in the water, her torso separated from mine from the waist up. Her lips part slightly as she meets my eyes.
I don’t make a move.
She sighs in a way I can’t interpret. She seems content but also possibly a little perplexed. “Marbel
la was right.”
I force myself to speak, my voice thick. “What about?”
“It is possible to care for someone without lusting after them.”
Damn.
Her arms tighten and her head returns to the crook of my neck. The way she melts into me, her breasts pressed against me, confuses my body and no amount of internal shouting about friendship can stop my intense physical reaction. I thank the ancients she’s wrapped her legs around me high enough that she can’t feel my physical reaction. She once told Marbella that elves can’t be trusted, especially not when it comes to sex and lust.
I don’t know what happened in her past, but I make a quiet promise: I will make her future beautiful.
As gently as I can, I slide us through the water to retrieve her dress. She shakes her head as soon as she sees where we’re headed. “I don’t want that back on.”
The corner of my mouth hitches. I scrunch the material in my fist, lift it so she can see what I’m doing, and use it as a cloth to wash her neck, starting at the point beneath her ear where a stubborn drop of blood—someone else’s blood—tells me she was exposed to something she never should have seen. I continue washing her across her back and down her arms as she relaxes beneath my hands.
She’s chosen to make herself completely vulnerable to me, trusting me, and in return I will keep her safe, give her everything she needs, and I won’t ask anything from her in return.
8. Marbella Mercy
I awake to find Baelen sound asleep beside me. When I shift, his arms tighten around me in a protective reflex. I slept in my armor. Without eating. After a lot of crying. And nothing more than Baelen’s kisses on my hair and his gentle words in my ears even when I wanted more.
My stomach growls. Loudly. Also, I need to use the bathroom. Curse the necessities. I want to stay right where I am.
Nope. Bathroom calls.
I pry myself from his arms, sliding out from under the blankets. I love my armor—it has saved my life countless times—but I need it off my body. I need to be free of all the fighting and the battles. I peel it off my arms and legs, inhaling a deep breath as I step out of it. I leave it in a puddle on the floor and head straight to the bathroom, using the facilities before I turn on the shower and stand beneath it, letting the water stream over me.
It runs dark with soot from the fire outside Harem Hall.
I lather and rinse twice before I’m certain I’ve washed all of the ash out of my hair. Outside the shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the way my hair has taken on a pearly sheen, my skin a moonlit glow. If I cover the tips of my ears and imagine wings, I look like a female gargoyle. So much of the elf in me has disappeared that I don’t recognize myself anymore.
Drying myself, I realize I have no clothes or even a dressing gown. Do I care? I trust Baelen with my life and I want to be with him. I’m not afraid to be naked in front of him.
I leave the towel behind and prowl from the bathroom to find a very awake Baelen standing right outside. He’s dressed in the same clothing he was wearing when he brought me back last night: a long-sleeved shirt and long pants; clean ones he must have changed into while I was out with Roar. It’s definitely gargoyle clothing because the shirt has discrete clips at the side to allow for it to be put on around wings.
He misses a beat. He’s always had incredible self-control but I’m certain he wasn’t expecting me to emerge naked. He wrenches his gaze from the curve of my hip. Funny, I never thought that would be the sexiest part of my body but the way his gaze lingers on my narrow waist and then rises to my shoulders, following the water droplet sliding from the base of my neck across my collar bone…
My knees threaten to give way in the most ungraceful way. Luckily I still have one hand on the bathroom door, so I use it to keep myself upright.
He owes me so many answers—how does he know Outlier Senturi?—but right now I have other things on my mind. My chest rises and falls. I tell myself to breathe. “You promised me I’d only have to wait three years, Baelen Rath. Well, it’s been seven and a half. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
A smile grows on his face, lighting up his eyes. He lifts his chin, appraising me. “You seemed busy all that time. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
I let go of the door, trading its support for the chance to be nearer to him. After two steps, inches remain between us. I tilt my head back. Damn his height. I can’t reach his lips on my own and I have no water to help me this time.
He tilts his head down to mine, drawing a quick breath before his lips descend.
At the last moment… he freezes.
The laughter fades from his eyes, which become very serious. His hands return to his sides. He contemplates me for so long that it scares me. “Baelen?”
He takes a step back. “We can’t do this today, Marbella.”
Wait… what? I shake my head. Swallow. Repeat what he said inside my head. Did he just say we can’t do this? Did he just say no? Please, please don’t let it be because he’s taking the whole don’t-come-to-his-bed thing seriously…
He sidesteps me, walks backward to the closet, and drags it open, all while keeping his eyes on me. He wrenches the nearest garment from its hanger—a silken dress that threatens to slide right out of his hands. He fumbles with it, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and hands it to me.
I take it but don’t put it on. Stare at it. Stare back at him. “I don’t understand.”
He says, “We were lucky seven years ago. But I scent you, Marbella. Give me mercy, the storm tells me what’s going on inside your body. We won’t get away with it again.”
“What…? Baelen?”
His expression softens. “Wait another week, Marbella. I promise you, I won’t turn you away.”
Wait another week… Wait a minute… Is he talking about… babies? Shock ripples through me. Howl had scented me too; he’d told me when he first met me that I was way too fertile and he wouldn’t bed me for fear of having children with me.
I say, “But we already did. Last night.”
“That was in the deep springs. Nothing operates like normal there. It was protected.” He pulls away from me. “This won’t be.”
“But…”
Baelen heads to the bathroom, stops in the doorway, clutches the doorknob, his knuckles turning white. “Please don’t be naked when I get back out. It’s taking every shred of my self-control not to take what you’re offering and embrace the consequences. Because believe me, Marbella, I want children with you. But you have enough going on in your life right now.”
I can’t speak. I watch the door close behind him. It clicks and then shifts again as if he just leaned his weight against it. I wobble back against the bed and drop to its surface.
If it weren’t for the storm’s power, he wouldn’t have known. We wouldn’t have known. I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about that. Gargoyle females only have two children—always twins. Their whole culture is set up around making sure the female is free to choose a good mate. Elves, on the other hand, can have multiple children but often choose to cloak themselves in contraceptive spells. If I’m some sort of hybrid, I have no idea what the consequences will be. Will I have twins? Or more? Obviously not none or Baelen wouldn’t have stopped us.
I examine the dress he handed me, consider the other clothing options, and swap the dress for long pants and a fitted shirt. I find boots in the bottom of the closet and then I sit on the edge of the bed while the shower runs and finally clicks off. I wait for Baelen to emerge, trying to figure out what I’m going to say, trying to push away what I want.
It turns out he was in such a hurry to get away from me, he didn’t take any clean clothes either. He emerges with a towel slung low across his hips, water dripping from his slicked-back hair down his broad chest. My heart rate increases. I remember his body moving against mine, his chest beneath my hands, his hands flexing against my back.
I can’t share the same space as Baelen and not t
hrow myself across the distance and rip that damn towel off him.
I jump to my feet. “I’m getting breakfast. You can explain all about Outlier Senturi when you’re fully clothed. And I do expect answers, Baelen Rath.”
I race to the door, stop in the doorway, glance back as a smile breaks across his face. Oh no, he doesn’t. He can’t push me away and then suck me back to him with a single smile and naked muscles and water droplets and…
Oh, I’m clutching the door again. I force my feet to move. Away from Baelen.
The Priestess meets me halfway along the corridor. “Supreme Incorruptible, you’re awake.”
Well and truly.
She seems nervous. I guess she’s trying to figure out if I hate her. Yes, old lady, I do.
I say, “Good morning, Priestess. I need to know what the situation is with the gargoyles who were imprisoned in Slave Station. I know they were responsible for looking after the whole palace but I told the miners to free them. I don’t want anyone kept here against their will. If that means I have to grow my own food and do my own washing, that’s fine with me.”
She relaxes, settling into stride with me. “All of the gargoyles—including the slaves and the guards—have been told to return to their families. Many have chosen to remain.”
I’m curious. “How many?”
“All of them.”
I miss a step. “Why would they choose that?”
“Let me see… You killed Howl, opened the deep springs, allowed everyone to heal before you, ordered the fallen gargoyles to be treated with equal respect whether they were friend or enemy, destroyed Harem Hall, wept over the body of a fallen warrior, led your people to freedom… Shall I go on?”
My people. Freedom.
Suddenly my need to be with Baelen seems so small compared to what the gargoyles have faced: whole families ripped apart, children kept from parents, wives taken from husbands and used as leverage. I study the floor as I walk. “I’m humbled by their trust.”
She twists her hands in front of her. “I’m very sorry about what I said last night. I don’t want to cause you pain. It’s just that… trust is a fragile thing. It was a fight to get the clan leaders to accept you.”