“Unicorns hold honesty and integrity in the utmost regard. They will help if they decide a situation merits their attention. Of course, they will only offer their involvement if they deem the task to be an honorable one. They considered rescuing you to be a worthy quest and one of the unicorn agreed to approach your people. They sent back word, advising they would create a diversion in Sarbon with the suggestion that Conal Tremaine had been sighted. Knowing how desperate Archangelo was to capture him, I knew he would rush to Sarbon the minute he heard the news. A second diversion was created on the outskirts of Tamekeel, the signal that I was to get you out of the villa and up into the mountains to rendezvous with the renegades.” Again, she smiled and shook her head at her own description. “Right up until we met them, I still harbored doubts, but when I saw the expressions on their faces when they saw you, I knew you were Nememiah's Child.”
“Your family? Are they safe?” I had firsthand knowledge of what happened to those who crossed Aethelwine and the Drâghici, and hated to think that Nissa's family could be in harm's way because of their role in my rescue.
“They are here in the camp, Angel. Father knew he would be putting the family in danger by becoming involved. As soon as arrangements could be made, they left the Realm and were picked up by the rene— our group.” We shared a grin when Nissa corrected herself. “They have joined us, and will fight against Aethelwine and the Drâghici.”
We lapsed back into silence, but it was companionable, and somehow, having taken my mind from my problems for a few minutes, I felt a little calmer. My thought drifted towards Conal. Nissa's mention of him had made my heart ache. Did he still want me, after everything that had happened? Could he still love me? Perhaps what had happened would be too much for him to cope with.
After Nissa departed, I spiraled back into despondency, worrying about my baby and Conal, endlessly questioning how to deal with the sheer number of issues on my shoulders. And how could I ever overcome the knowledge of what Archangelo had done to me?
The gentle pressure of a body settling onto the gurney beside me interrupted my anxious contemplations. Warm fingers brushed my shoulder, tugging on a curl. “Charlotte… baby? Are you awake?”
With concentrated effort, I forced myself to roll over and viewed Matt silently.
Matt watched me for a few minutes, and I began to fret that he was expecting me to talk. I never wanted to discuss what had happened again, particularly with this man – my father. Sharing the horrific memories was something I didn't want to do with anyone again. Exhaustion and waves of numbing grief swept over me again and I shut my eyes with a sigh.
The movement seemed to nudge Matt into speaking. “I won't ask if you're okay, baby. Of course you're not, and you aren't going to be for quite some time. You don't have to tell anyone a damn thing, not if you don't want to. Jerome's passed the essentials to the people who needed to know. Who else you choose to tell is your business.”
I opened my eyes, nodding listlessly. Matt rubbed a hand over his jaw, scrutinizing me. “Charlotte, you can overcome this. You can take your life back, move forward. Don't let that bastard win.”
Blinking back tears, I stared at him. “How? How do I move forward?”
“With the love of your friends and your family. With our support and encouragement.” He cuffed my cheek with his fingers. “And we're going to find your little boy, and bring him back to you.”
It took a great deal of effort to manage a tiny shake of my head. “He could be anywhere.” I swallowed deeply, choking back a sob. “He could be dead.”
“I refuse to believe that. He's too important to the Drâghici, there's no way they'd harm him. My grandson is out there, and we're going to get him back.”
I needed to change the subject, couldn't bear to talk about my baby. “Where's Misaki?” I was surprised she hadn't appeared with Matt.
Matt seemed sheepish, his expression guarded when he spoke. “She wanted to come… but I told her to hold off for a few days.”
My narrowed eyes were enough to push him into a confession.
“Baby, I wasn't sure you'd want to see her right now, given the circumstances.” He tugged his fingers through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. “We found out not long after you were taken… Misaki's having a baby.”
“And you thought—” I stopped abruptly, grasping the reason for Matt's intense discomfort.
“I thought it might be tough for you to see her, she's seven months along now and got quite the belly on her. With everything that's happened, I didn't know if you'd be up for seeing her when she's—” He shrugged. “You know.”
“Don't make her stay away, Matt. I'd like to see her.” While it would be bittersweet, I wanted to see her, knew that it wasn't Matt and Misaki's fault that I didn't have my son.
Matt seemed relieved, his eyes lighting up in a combination of delight and relief. “You're sure? 'Cause she was mighty pissed off when I told her I didn't think she should come.”
“I can imagine,” I agreed. Misaki was good for my father, a determined woman capable of being equal partners with a strong man. They suited one another and I was happy about their news, despite my own sadness. “I get to be a big sister again.”
Matt nodded, a goofy grin on his lips. “Misaki was a bit freaked out to begin with, this whole business of Kazuki having angel blood and all, she was worried about having another baby. But she's doing fine.” Matt was quiet for a minute or two; playing with a ringlet, he drew it between his fingers, stretching it out before he released it. “Baby, I give you my word; we'll help you get through this. You can overcome it.”
I shook my head. “I don't think I can, Matt. The price I've had to pay – it's too high. So many people have died and we're no closer to winning than when this began. We have no protection, I don't know how to defeat the Drâghici, I don't even know if I can. The thought of facing him again after—” I drew a ragged breath. “I've lost so much already. Lucas is gone, my baby is gone,” I wiped tears away as they began to fall again, “and I think I've lost Conal, too.”
Matt lifted his head swiftly. “Conal?” He frowned. “Why would you think that?”
His question tipped me over the edge into hysteria and I unleashed every single thought which had been tossing around in my overwrought mind. “He hasn't been to see me! How can he forgive me for what happened? How can he accept what happened? Archangelo slept with me. Had sex with me! Made me believe I was his wife!” A flood of tears washed down my cheeks and I struggled to breathe between sobs. “The price is too high, Matt! I can't go on with this. The price is too high.”
Matt scooped me into his arms, gripping me against his shirt as I tore myself apart. When the crying jag eased, he lay me down on the mattress and brushed stray curls from my forehead, gazing at me with complete honesty. “Charlotte, you're the strongest woman I've ever known. Time and again, I've seen you cope with things that no twenty-one-year-old should ever have to cope with. Hell, nobody should have to cope with the crap you've been dealt. Yet you do so with grace, with intelligence that belies your age. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart, and I know you'll triumph over everything that bastard has done to you. You'll win this, Charlotte. You and me, and everyone who's joined our side – we'll overcome and create a safe environment for everyone to live in, without the fucking Drâghici breathing down our necks.” He inhaled deeply before he continued. “Conal isn't avoiding you, baby. He hasn't been in to visit for the same reasons it's taken me so long to get in here. We've been out searching for the baby.”
“I—”
Matt gripped my hands, interlinking his fingers through mine. “Conal loves you, Charlotte. He never gave up on you, not for a minute, not at any time during the past seven months.” He hesitated, and his own eyes were wet with tears. “When we all believed you were dead – myself included – when we thought you and the baby were gone forever— Conal wouldn't give up. Refused to consider that you might be dead. He stepped up and took on leading the group, alway
s insisting you'd be coming back.” Matt squeezed my fingers, his callused skin warm against mine. “The man loves you, Charlotte. As soon as we discovered you were alive, got you back here, Conal insisted we start reconnaissance to hunt for your son. That's what we've been doing ever since, constantly heading into the Fae Realm, searching for the baby.”
“You haven't found him,” I pointed out dully.
Matt frowned and shook his head. “Not yet. But we're going to. Arasinya, Goren, and the other Fae – they're traveling with us, despite the danger to them if they're caught in the Realm – they insisted on going with us every trip, helping to search for him. He's there somewhere, and we're going to bring him back to you.”
For a time, I stared up at the ceiling of the tent, considering his words and desperately trying to dampen down a little tendril of hope which stubbornly curled around my heart. It would be too dangerous to allow myself to be optimistic – but the knowledge that Conal and my friends were searching for my son warmed my heart.
“Conal was never avoiding you,” Matt reassured me softly. “I'm absolutely certain the second he gets back; he'll be here with you. We didn't know when you would wake up again; whether you would wake up.” He smiled warmly. “I'm sure if he'd known today was the day, he'd have been here and telling you this himself.”
“You really think he can forgive me?” I asked. Would Conal really understand that what I'd done hadn't been my choice? Would he think I had some responsibility for my actions in the past months? Guilt was eating me alive, despite the knowledge that I'd had no choice.
“Baby, there's nothing to forgive,” Matt said gruffly. “What happened with that prick,” his eyes grew stormy, “what he did to you – none of it was your fault. Conal knows that. We all know it. Trust me, baby. Conal loves you.”
Chapter 11: Conal
My sleep was dreamless, deep, and solid. I was refreshed when I woke again and better able to cope with the problems attacking from every side. Lying against the pillow, I inhaled deeply, enjoying those simple moments between sleep and alertness, before the realities of the world assaulted me again.
Blinking leisurely, I adjusted to the soft light in the tent, realizing night had fallen. I'd dozed off with Matt holding my hand, his presence a comforting reassurance.
Glancing around the tent, my gaze fell on Conal. He stood stiff and unyielding, arms cross over his broad chest, his gaze fixed on the small screened opening which looked out over the camp. In denims and a faded black t-shirt, he was as physically imposing as I remembered. His hair had grown longer, the ends brushing across the top of his shirt and his face carried harsh lines of worry and stress. A growth of heavy stubble lined his jaw and chin, evidence he hadn't shaved for days.
“Conal?”
He turned slowly, as if unable to believe he'd heard my voice. His dark gaze met mine and a maelstrom of emotions crossed his expression. In slow motion, he stepped towards the gurney, his movements sinuous and graceful and I watched every step, my heart pounding in synchronization. I relished seeing him again, knowing who he was, and what he meant to me. Aware of how much I loved him.
He hesitated for the briefest of seconds when he reached my side, and I suffered a moment of abject panic, wondering if Matt had perhaps been wrong, and Conal couldn't forgive what had happened.
Before I had the opportunity to analyze his hesitation, Conal dropped onto the bed, scooping me into his arms and onto his lap.
No words were needed, no explanations necessary. Every emotion flicking through Conal's eyes, every subtle nuance on his handsome features reassured me he loved me as much now, as he did before. Wordlessly, he caressed my cheek, before he dropped his mouth over mine and kissed me deeply, his tongue probing my mouth like a man who'd sought water for months and gone thirsty. A man who needed me, wanted me, desired me with everything he had.
I tangled my fingers in his dark hair, holding him close, wanting to touch every inch of him, love everything. Conal groaned and deepened the kiss, arms wrapped around my back as if he never intended to let me go again.
When his lips left mine, I was momentarily bereft, until he traced a path across my cheek with his mouth, kissing down my neck and over my collarbone, his warm breath igniting goose bumps across my entire body. “I've missed you so much, Charlotte,” he groaned against my ear. His fingers were tracing a path across every available inch of skin, as if he was physically reassuring himself that I was truly here.
“I love you, Conal.”
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply against my shoulder. “Christ, I thought I was never going to hear you say those words again.” He dropped another deep kiss on my mouth, as if the action would confirm I was flesh and blood and sitting in his lap, where I'd longed to be so often in those first few months of captivity.
We lost ourselves in each other, sharing kisses, relishing the chance to touch and hold one another. When Conal finally settled back against the pillow, my lips were swollen, every part of me aching for his touch. He continued to cradle me, pulling the blanket from the bed and covering me, before he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close to his chest. We remained that way for long minutes, content in each other's presence after so long apart.
I traced across Conal's chest with my fingers, following the tightly corded muscle beneath the t-shirt. “I wasn't sure—” I began, but faltered before I could complete the sentence. I inhaled sharply, gathering my strength before the words left my throat in a rush. “I thought you wouldn't want me anymore, after what happened.”
Conal lifted my chin, tilting my head so he could brush a kiss across my lips again. “Charlotte, you're sitting in my lap. I think how much I still want you is pretty obvious to both of us,” he admitted without a trace of embarrassment.
I blushed furiously, burying my face against Conal's chest and he chuckled for a couple of seconds before his demeanor turned serious again. “I wasn't certain you would want me,” he admitted. A glance confirmed his eyes were tight with pain, his forehead creased.
“Why?” What could possibly possess him to think that way? I was dumbfounded.
Conal huffed out a breath. “I failed you, Sugar. In every single way it was possible, I failed you. I promised you I'd never let Archangelo get near you. I promised to keep your baby safe. I blew it, on both counts.”
“This wasn't your fault,” I protested.
“I should have been protecting you!” he growled. “Hell, I should have been by your side, all day, every day. I wasn't there when you needed me most!” He glanced away, his face a picture of misery.
“You were protecting me!” I protested, wrapping my fingers in his hair and forcing his face up until he met my gaze. “Conal, you couldn't be with me every minute of the day, it's just not possible for anybody to do that. And you thought— we all thought— I was safe inside Zaen. This wasn't your fault, any more than it was mine.”
As I spoke the words, I realized it was the truth. This hadn't been my fault. It hadn't been Conal's fault. Circumstances, beyond our control, had caused this entire, terrible mess.
Conal inhaled deeply against my hair, a shuddering breath which made his chest shake. “Jerome brought me up to speed.” He must have seen a dark shadow cross my expression and brushed his knuckles over my cheek tenderly. “The only thing none of us can understand, is how they got you out of Zaen?”
Memories of that day, so long ago, washed over me and I snuggled closer to his chest. “It was Blane. Goren's brother.”
Conal remained silent for a few minutes, his touch against my back soothing. “We suspected as much. He disappeared, a few days after you did. We sent out some search parties, but by that stage, demons and younglings were creaming us. Goren suspected his brother right from the beginning, was devastated by his suspected betrayal.”
“They had his wife and child,” I explained. My voice was composed, but the horror of what I'd witnessed was fresh in my mind after being locked away for so long. “Aethelwine and the Drâghici
had already taken his wife and child, even before Goren and Arasinya called their people out of the Realm. Blane was told to free them, he would need to bring me back to Sarbon, and then they'd let his family go.”
“I don't understand how Blane spirited you out of the city – you disappeared right out from under our noses. Keenan and Phelan were supposed to be guarding you constantly,” Conal fished gently.
“I'd told them to take an hour off,” I admitted with an unsuppressed shiver. “I'd gone up to our room in the meeting hall, thought I was utterly safe. Surrounded by our people and within the walls of the city – how could I not be safe? When Blane appeared for a visit, I made the mistake of telling him I was alone. He stuck me with a syringe full of drugs, and I got terribly sleepy and couldn't seem to control my own body. He created a portal right there, in the room, and took me to Sarbon.” Despite my efforts to explain calmly, my hands started to tremble and Conal caught them both in one of his, holding them close to his heart. “I didn't know what happened to him, not for a few days. When I saw Blane again, they brought him, his wife, and their son into the cell where they'd been holding me. Archangelo delighted in telling Blane that he'd given me up for no reason – because he was a traitor to Queen Aethelwine and the Realm, he and his family would be executed.”
The trembling increased as I relived those terrible days. “The guards chained Blane's wife and child to the wall beside me, and they carted in a huge wooden vat. Blane was tied up, with his arms over his head, hanging over the top of the vat by a rope, and each day, they lowered him a little further into the liquid it contained.” Swallowing back bile, I glanced up into Conal's eyes. “It was lemon juice. Each day, they dropped him a few inches further into it. Enough to let the juice burn the skin from his body, allowing the poison to enter his bloodstream and kill him excruciatingly slowly.” Even now, I could hear his screams, the way he'd begged for their mercy, begged them to kill him, rather than make him endure the human equivalent of being dunked into a bath full of acid in painful increments.
Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5) Page 8