Heather could honestly say that she was proud of her appearance.
Her hair swung in a smooth ponytail that had gems pleated into it. The gaggle had spent an age arguing over the style and the way they’d weave the stones into the style. It had nigh on driven her mad.
There was no veil behind which she could hide as she traversed the aisle. No flowers either. She’d have her father at her side though and she was glad about that.
Her mother had been absent of late, leaving her alone to get on with the arrangements. It had been a lot of work and a lot of pressure, but she’d managed. Surprising herself with what she was capable of, as well as getting her away from the lash of her harpy of a mother’s tongue.
Everything had been rather nice these last few days. She’d been cool and calm, Fade had been hot and eager… the pair of them were looking forward to this day being over. It was impossible to not feel as though they were walking towards a carnival, where they were the major events.
A knock tapped at the door and opened before she could call out. She knew it was her mother before she even showed her face, because the staff would never have done that. Nor would the gaggle. They would have waited. Plus, she’d dismissed them all a half-hour or so ago, bored and edgy with all the simpering looks and don’t you look beautiful, your Highness every ten seconds.
Oh, they meant well. She knew that. That was the reason they’d been dismissed and not snapped at. She could never be so churlish as to disregard and disrespect their well thought words. It was just… after hours of them and on a constant basis, it was a bit much.
And Christ, her father expected her to select from the gaggle to keep some of the women on for a lifetime.
Shuddering at the thought and steeling herself for her mother to enter the room, she turned and cocked a brow as the other woman just stood there. Dressed in what the Mearthen considered to be a searing scarlet, Heather could do anything but deny that her mother was a hottie. I have a MILF for a mother. She snorted at the thought.
She had no idea of how old Setta actually was, but she wore her years well. Her hair was pleated into what Heather knew as a French plait but probably possessed some complicated name on Mearth. Into it, there were strands of some strange metal that she assumed was precious. The color of wheat blended with copper and of all things blue. Odd.
The dress Setta wore was stately but still, clung to every inch of her. The same lace-like patterns of precious gems covered the red-brown-purple fabric of her gown. It swept along her shoulders and down her arms to wrists that had thick bands of the stones. From her waist to her feet in a skirt that swirled about her ankles, more stones were laced together in an intricate pattern.
She looked, in one word, stunning.
And Heather said so.
Then was surprised to watch Setta blush.
“Thank you, daughter. You look beautiful yourself. The gown suits you perfectly. You are more delightful to the eye than even Fade will believe.”
Charmed by the compliment, because it was so obviously sincere, Heather smiled. “I will not shame my family then”
Setta sighed. “You must forgive me my impertinence, daughter. I have been brutish to you, ever since your arrival. So much so that even though it killed me to stay away these last few days, I knew I had to give you some peace. My tongue has seemingly run away with me, whenever I’ve been in your company and I’ve offended you in more ways than I can count. I beg your forgiveness for my churlishness, Heather. I truly do not understand what has overcome me to make me so brittle in your presence.”
Touched at the apology, Heather reached out a hand and likened it to an olive branch. She didn’t want to argue, nor did she want to lose her mother. Rather than long to flee from her, she wanted harmony between the two of them.
“I do forgive you, because I don’t want to lose you, mother. I’ve longed, all of my life, to know you. To wish and pray and resent what I believed to be your passing. Aunty May did an incredible job, I loved her and she loved me. But we both missed you. Her sacrifice was a thousand times worse, she knew what she’d left behind, I didn’t.
“I won’t, can’t, forget her. She was, to all intents and purposes, my mother. But, I don’t say this to upset you. Because I truly want to know you. When I have children of my own, I want you there. I want to be close to you and if you continue to push me away, then that simply isn’t possible. I thank you for your apology,” Heather finished with an almost formal acceptance. “But I would prefer that you learn to guard your tongue in relation to my shortcomings. I will learn, gradually. And considering my past, I doubt few will mind.”
Setta grabbed her hand between the two of her own and tightened her grip until they were clasped together. “I want nothing more to be a part of your future and your present, my darling.”
Heather smiled and was about to speak, when a strange crackling sound burst throughout the small chamber. It reminded her of a lightning bolt that whipped through the airwaves and ripped at the sound waves. The pair of them flinched as right in front of them, a hole suddenly appeared.
Heather blinked, sure she was seeing things, but Setta’s grip on her hand grew fiercer and before she knew it, Setta was stood before her, protecting her from the hole. She tried to move away, but her mother had a surprisingly strong grip and when she tried to pull free, Setta’s nails bit into her wrist. Subduing a gasp, Heather who was slightly taller than her mother, peered over her shoulder and saw another room. It was a strange set of chambers. They held none of the Jenderian palace’s polish, but were filled with objects that would have fit in a horror flick.
A man appeared in the hole and behind him, writhing on the floor were two people. Their agony was clear on their face, their bodies rippled with the pain they were experiencing.
The man stepped into the room as though he’d just opened the same door Setta had used. He was calm, but there was a grim intent in the lines of his mouth. He was here for purpose and he wouldn’t be swayed from it. That purpose could only be nefarious. For what other reason would he enter in such a way?
He was handsome, in his own, murky way. His features held a shade of Fade’s blackness, the same taut jaw and beak of a nose. But the eyes were different. A peculiar green that swirled and changed as he blinked and set his eyes about the room, discerning where he was. Dressed in a simple robe that reminded Heather of a monk’s back on Earth, the man also stunk to high heaven.
A mixture of incense and pig shit.
What the fuck was that about?
“Calder. Is that you?” Setta bit out, surprise lining her features. “What on Mearth are you doing here? This is a gross intrusion. A breach of Jenderian royal shelter by a commoner of Haden. How dare you?”
“I’m no more a commoner than you are, Setta of Jender. I come from the loins of royalty and I will take my place as such. With your daughter’s assistance.”
Setta stepped back as Calder moved forwards. Heather had to concentrate on not tripping over her feet and not getting caught in her skirt as they crossed the room in a defensive dance. “You will not come near my daughter.”
“Won’t I?” he asked and then chuckled.
“She is to be wed to Fade, the heir to Haden’s throne. Surely you understand the reprisals that this will cause to tumble on your head?”
“She’s to be wed to the proper heir to the Dark Throne. Myself. And I see that she’s properly attired for the occasion. How fitting.”
“You will not touch her.” Setta shrieked, as Calder raised a hand to dart over the older woman’s shoulder to brush Heather’s cheek. Setta slapped out, her hand battering Calder’s face. But rather than grimace in pain, the man seemed entirely unaffected, while Setta seemed to shoulder it instead. She cried out and staggered, her hands pulling free from Heather’s as she dropped to her feet as some unknown force caused her to writhe with the same agony as those on the floor in Calder’s portal.
“What have you done to her?” Heather cried out, dropping
awkwardly to her knees in the too-tight skirt to study the pain-riddled features of her mother’s face.
“I am untouchable in this realm. Any violence that reaches me rebounds upon the assailant. A hundred fold.” Calder’s words were uninterested as he too knelt beside Setta’s agonized form. Heather stared at him and then flickered her gaze to the door, she was no fool and knew that the odds of her escaping, with the stupid, now weighted, band about her feet hindering every step, were close to nil.
She remained where she was, her hand stroking Setta’s forehead. She seemed to come out of the daze Calder had put her in and at that moment, Calder pressed a hand to her mother’s chest. He tapped the flesh between her breast, on the left hand side, and the growing consciousness on her mother’s face instantly disappeared.
As did her signs of agony and the slow rise of her chest.
Heather’s entire body tingled as she stared down at her mother. Still. So still. Her nerves were alight with the realization of what that stillness meant, but her mind wouldn’t, couldn’t accept it.
“She’s not breathing,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the man who had instigated her mother’s demise.
“That’s the idea,” came the cruel retort.
“No.” Heather cried. “She can’t be dead. You must have just, Christ, I don’t know, spelled her? Take it back. Change what you did. I’ll come with you, no questions, and no fuss if you change her back. Don’t let her die,” she sobbed. “Please, God, don’t let her die. I’ve only just found her.”
She gripped Setta’s hands and began to jostle her. Her limbs were sickeningly heavy, so lax Heather knew there was no life in them. Her eyes were drenched as they clashed with Calder’s. “Please. Bring her back.” She swallowed. “I promise. I’ll come with you.”
“I don’t need your promise, because I know you’ll be coming with me.” He stood, ignoring Setta and Heather’s mewling pleas, as her hands hovered over her mother’s face, shaping them with longing.
She couldn’t have lost her. She couldn’t. She’d only just found her and Setta had only just promised to accept her for what she was. This bastard couldn’t have taken her away. She pressed her forehead to Setta’s, her body recognizing the rapid loss of heat from her mother’s. Sobs heaved through her chest, as she shook her head in denial, the move had Setta’s limp head following the same rhythm. As she cried, as tears tracked down the path from the corner of her eyes, Heather didn’t realize that they pooled in the slight cove of Setta’s eye sockets. Heather didn’t even really know she was crying.
Despair was ravaging her system with a ferocity she’d never before imagined. This was like losing Aunty May again. Another connection gone. Another connection that would leave Heather’s life wanting.
She didn’t care, when she was dragged upright. She couldn’t stand, her knees were too weak and she fell to the floor again. The sharp bones collided with the floor and she cried out as the pain ricocheted through her form. Her skirt tore and the sound ripped through the room as a long rent splintered its way through the fabric, urging the stones sewn into the weave to sprinkle the floor, making a tinkling sound as they clashed.
Calder grabbed her arms, but they were like limp spaghetti and they fell to her sides again. Heather didn’t really notice. She was focused on her mother, her mouth forming and mewling her mind’s rejection of Setta’s death.
It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.
She longed to deny it, but the longer she sat there, slouched on the floor, as limp as a rag, the colder, stiller and more dead Setta appeared.
When she was lifted into strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder, Heather ignored the resulting pain as her stomach collided with the bony joint. She let herself be taken, tilting her head to see her mother’s corpse until the very last moment.
She didn’t even notice when they passed through the portal. Only when the one in the chamber in Jender disappeared and her eyes were no longer trained on Setta, did she stir.
“No.” she cried, her tears starting anew. “No.” She shook her head, physically denying and rejecting what had just happened.
Regret filled her, plundered her mind until all she could see were the ways in which she’d let Setta down. Couldn’t she have tried harder? Been kinder? Tried to be friendlier?
Instead, she’d been so obsessed with Fade, that her mother, who had lost and only just found her, couldn’t reconcile herself to what had occurred. Setta had been floundering in the dark and Heather had been the only one with the light to guide her. When she’d focused her entire attention on her mate, Setta had felt adrift. It didn’t matter that it was only natural for mates to seek each other out, guilt tore through Heather, as she came to terms with the fact she was the fault behind Setta’s churlishness.
The minute Setta had exhaled her last breath, understanding had shimmered through Heather’s brain. But that was too late to make any changes to her life. Too goddamn late.
The sobs started again, but this time, they weren’t pitiful, they were raging. They tore through her body with a ferocity that unnerved the man carrying her. Calder quickly deposited her on the bed and left her there in a shapeless lump.
Once her body connected with the mattress, Heather shot up and glared through swollen eyes at her mother’s murderer. Adrenaline enabling her to do that as the desire to kill him pummeled through her blood. She wanted his death on her hands just as her mother’s was on his. Wanted to torture him, to make him suffer as she was now. But mostly she wanted to know why. Why he’d had to kill her mother? Heather had ascertained that he was a pretender to the Haden throne, but why stoop to murder? Why kill someone who had no connection to Haden? Save the weak connection to herself. Mearth did not know they were mates. The people believed a union between the kingdoms was the reason for their wedding. But that union had not been completed, so why murder Setta?
Her throat throbbed with the ferocious sobs tearing through it, so much so, she couldn’t form a word. She felt weak, so weak by the strength of her misery that her back caved in, no longer supporting her. The adrenaline disappeared and with its loss, she felt even weaker. Exhaustion rippled through her body as she fell back against the mattress and closed her eyes. But the sight of her mother’s dead form plagued her.
Would it ever leave her?
She didn’t think so. It would forever haunt her, forever be glued to the backs of her eyelids.
More tears formed at the thought.
Chapter Fifteen
Mother of Mearth, the woman could cry.
Her sobs were louder than anything he’d ever heard and considering the things he’d seen in his life, the rituals and sacrifices he’d monitored, that was saying something. She mourned. Every tear, every wail was loaded with her grief to the point where he felt disturbed.
It had all come to pass so easily that either his organizational skills were superb or the Fates were on his side. He preferred to think that it was a mixture of both, for his ego wouldn’t allow him to deny the former, nor would it allow him to deny that the Fates had taken to looking kindly upon his intentions.
That could only bode well, could it not?
He had an Elder standing by, one within his own pocket, just waiting to wed the pair of them. The only problem seemed to be getting the bride to utter the binding words.
The ceremony could not be a sham. It had to be binding and real. Once the bride and groom uttered the words of the ancient vows, for those few moments, they were entwined with Mother Mearth. She, in turn, bound them together mentally, physically and emotionally.
Calder had intended to drug Heather of Jender. In a stuporous state, he was sure the words would have come easily but at the moment, the girl wasn’t even capable of speaking. Her words were slaughtered by the sobs choking through her.
Mother Mearth, if he’d realized the killing touch would have had this effect on his intended, he would have left the Jenderian Queen alone.
Naturally, they were kin those two. Bu
t still, the devotion that this one was displaying took time to grow. Surely? Her reappearance had shot through the kingdoms, the chit had only been returned to Jender a short while ago. How could she weep such misery, when she hardly knew the woman who was her mother?
He’d never understand women, Calder was quite certain of that. He was capable of much, but that talent was quite beyond him.
His eyes wandered around the room as he tried to contemplate his next step. The only thing he accomplished was to feel irritated. On the floor, the mewling Elfen he’d used to transport him through time and space were still writhing on the floor and over on the bed, Heather of Jender, his future bride, was still wailing like a babe in arms.
Deciding to take a seat, he sat back and pondered the situation. Rather than drag Fade here and try and kill him, Calder had gone for the, he wasn’t ashamed to admit, cowardly option. By stealing the man’s wife and taking her for his own, Calder would have ties with the Jenderian Palace. The drug he’d intended to use upon Heather would keep her quiet for the remainder of her life as to how he’d smuggled her away, and would hide the fact he’d murdered the Queen. Drugged, she’d be a biddable wife and he’d retain all the power. Once her father was dead, be that with natural causes or if Henrik was pushed along by Calder himself, then as Heather’s husband, he would take the throne and reign supreme.
He would have robbed Fade of his intended and of his future as King of two kingdoms.
Calder would have preferred the Dark Throne. It was his right by birth, but he would settle for being King of Jender.
As such, his plan had grown from there on out. His target had changed to Heather of Jender and he’d set the date for the morning of the nuptials.
Calder took great pleasure in knowing that Fade would believe Heather had suffered with nerves and run from the hideous throwback, as he so deserved. No beast such as was Fade deserved such a handsome and beautiful wife. She shared her mother’s beauty that was the truth. Calder, on the other hand, did deserve such a goddess on his arm and he’d take her, all the while glorifying in the fact he’d stolen her from his nephew.
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