Beneath the Night

by Jen Colly

  “And until then?” he asked.

  “You’re pretty damn vulnerable right now.” Elin took a deep breath, then dropped her voice and held his gaze. “I’m serious. If the man who sweeps the floors jabbed you in the chest with a broom handle hard enough, we’d lose you. Again.”

  “And the doctor’s orders?”

  “Savard only sent you to me when you first woke because he didn’t want the extent of your injuries known publicly. He trusted me to keep my mouth shut. I don’t doctor. I only patch up your Guardians.”

  “I would be honored if you would become my personal physician.” Navarre bowed his head respectfully toward her.

  “But, my lord, I’m not…I couldn’t…” Elin stood abruptly, pulled the stethoscope from her neck, and plunked it onto the table. “It’s a nice gesture, but during the demon attack I picked up a sword and fought my way to the safety of the arena. I killed a demon. People don’t speak to me anymore. You’re better off seeing a respectable doctor. There’s one on level three.”

  Navarre considered this for all of four seconds, glanced at Cat, then said, “I will have no other.”

  “Then the honor is mine.” Elin smiled, her shoulders lifting in pride. “Well, then. My orders are that you feed as soon as possible. I’ll check your progress again in two days.”

  “Thank you, Elin.”

  Elin nodded, still wearing a small, proud smile as she exited into the adjoining room.

  For several minutes Navarre sat in the clinic chair, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded. He’d noticed the lingering ache, and though he’d wondered if he would ever fully recover, he hadn’t expected seven years of healing to leave him without solid bone formation.

  He rose, left the clinic, and Cat followed close behind. Navarre didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. In silence they walked through the quiet corridors. When they reached his home, he turned to face her, but still the words wouldn’t come.

  Cat seemed to be struggling with something of her own, her eyes never meeting his. Softly, she said, “I fed from you.”

  “A small price to pay to have you standing here before me.”

  “Sure, I’m standing, but without bone guarding your heart, you’re in danger. And with these demons showing up?” She shook her head. “Your city needs you alive. You need to feed.”

  “I won’t. Not again. Not after the distress it caused you.”

  “Me?” she asked, her eyes wide with surprise. “I’m not offering.”

  “And I’m not asking, but know that I will take from none but my mate. I have no interest in a connection that intimate with anyone other than you.”

  She shook her head and stepped back to the center of the corridor. “I can’t do that again. The dreams—”

  “Whatever they are, dreams or memories, I didn’t bring them into existence. I did not hurt you, and never will.” Navarre took a long breath, resolved in his decision. “I’ll heal eventually.”

  She eyed him warily.

  “Cat, I understand what you fear, and why. I will not push you on this matter. What I want is to understand why you’d sacrifice happiness to keep a bad dream at bay.” Navarre closed the distance between them, and she looked up at him, her fists clenched in anticipation, or fear.

  “It takes over, blocks out everything else,” she whispered. “I relive that terror, and when I wake, it…lingers.”

  “How many times have teeth touched your neck?”

  She couldn’t look him in the eye. “Only yours since…”

  “When Savard sent you to feed me, you didn’t know me, and I had little control over myself in that hallucinogenic state of blood deprivation. You were afraid, and I was not myself. You relive your fears because you know nothing else. Don’t throw away the love I want to give you.” Navarre waited for her answer, but her eyes darted everywhere, never settling on him. He’d never seen her like this before. Cat was skittish. She liked things blunt, so he obliged. “You run toward danger and death with your head high and arms wide open, but you fear me? Shut me out? Until you let go of your cowardice, you’ll remain paralyzed, trapped in a prison of your own making.”

  Her jaw dropped as the word registered. He turned, entered his home, and shut the door solidly between them. Leaning back against the door, Navarre gave his weight over to the wooden panels, because maybe if he held the door shut, he wouldn’t run after her.

  Chapter 17

  Cat stared at the wood paneled door between them, even now feeling that unseen force binding them together. The link simply existed without her conscious choice, and at least on her side of things, the connection was strong.

  Yes, the dreams scared her, brought her back to a time and place she wanted desperately to forget. Navarre had called her out, and he was right. The dreams were an excuse, a reason to reject a change she didn’t know how to make.

  If she accepted that fate had predestined her to find Navarre, then she’d have to accept the fact that everything she’d done, everything that had happened to her had already set her on this path. Her mother’s death, her father’s hated existence, even the eleven lives lost that gave her the children had all brought her here to this moment, this man. The lives fate seemed willing to destroy to get her to this point seemed endless. So much death and pain, and for what? Her happiness?

  Guilt tightened her chest. It didn’t seem fair that happiness was within reach for her, and Navarre was right. She was a coward, running from a life filled with love because she feared his bite.

  The thought of teeth on her neck sent an involuntary shudder through her body. Cat sucked in deep, even breaths, attempting to ease the turmoil inside of her, the rising memories that haunted her. It wasn’t working.

  She needed to run.

  Cat glanced up at the blue and gold trimmed ceiling, bent her knees, leaped into the air, and vanished. Concealed in Spirit, she shot straight up and into the château’s massive great room. She headed west, sped through the thick stone walls and over the open grass surrounding the château. The men guarding the gates wouldn’t know she’d left, couldn’t see her from the north. Slipping into the forest, she released her Spirit and drew the cold night air into her lungs. With solid ground and frosted grass beneath her feet, she took off at a dead sprint.

  It felt good to let her legs stretch, her arms pump. Her lungs burned, the cold air kissing her cheeks and cooling her fevered skin. The exertion and change in temperature cleared her mind, helped her focus.

  Things she’d assumed might be hurdles to having a relationship with Navarre simply were not. He was clearly concerned for the children’s safety and happiness. Cat’s mixed race didn’t bother him, nor did her combat skills. Navarre happily accepted her as she was, and was willing to forgo taking the blood he clearly needed in order to help her cope. Navarre wasn’t the problem.

  She was the problem. To be with him would be a partnership of trust, and that appealed to her greatly, but she didn’t know if she could get to that point.

  The children knew nothing of her and Navarre. Her headlong run stuttered to a halt. Cat braced her hands on her knees, waiting for her breathing to slow. If any one of them disliked Navarre for any reason, then none of her reasoning would matter. They came first.

  Asking the children what their thoughts were regarding Navarre made it feel as if she’d already said yes and agreed to be with him, but she hadn’t.

  Cat glanced behind her in the direction of the château she could no longer see. She needed to return home to the children, but this restless drive to run hadn’t left her. More than that, she felt like picking a fight.

  She headed back, her run now a slower pace, but still enough for her muscles to get a good burn. Weaving her way through the dense but narrow tree line, she emerged onto the open ground surrounding the château and came around to the front.

  Cat walked over the bridge. Up ahead was the gate, a thick wooden door beneath an arched alcove. She was arm
ed, but that wouldn’t hinder her access to the city. Every Guardian recognized her.

  Steffen stepped from the shadows when she neared, sent her a respectful nod. She passed him, then without warning, turned and socked him in the jaw.

  “Damn it, Cat!” Steffen bellowed, then returned a swing, catching her across the face. Cat hit the ground, kicked out hard against the side of his leg. He gave a pained shout as his knee buckled.

  The fight was on.

  Cat shot to her feet, and when she did, Steffen’s hand landed on her shoulder. She reached for it, starting to twist, but he pushed her forward. Her cheek hit the heavy door hard. His forearm pressed against the back of her neck, pinning her in place.

  Steffen grabbed a wrist, brought it behind her back, but as he went for her second wrist, Cat whipped her head back. The satisfying crack of bone meeting bone rattled through her skull. Steffen barked out a curse and took a single step backward. It was all the room she needed. She pushed her weight into him, lifted both feet from the ground, and kicked off the door. He grunted. Balance thrown, he’d lost his advantage. Cat slipped from his grasp.

  She rolled away, managing to pop up behind him, but Steffen was ready for her. With a sweeping kick, he knocked her legs out from under her. Her back hit the stone walkway with a jolt. She twisted to rise once again, but the cool metal of a sword against her neck stopped her.

  It wasn’t his sword that caught her attention, but the absolute focus in Steffen’s eyes. He thought he’d won. Cat kicked out, her boot connecting with the inside of his upper thigh. Steffen yelped and stepped back, likely thinking she was after a more tender target.

  Tucking her knees in, she spun on her rear, her back now to Steffen. She kicked again, the heel of her boot hitting his fist where it gripped his sword. The blade fell from his hand, clattered against the stone floor.

  Sword lost, the fight was over. Cat hooked her arms around his legs and pulled his feet out from under him. A short and surprised shout left Steffen as he landed on his ass.

  Steffen lay on the walkway, back flat against the stones as he caught his breath. He didn’t stay down for long.

  Standing over her, Steffen reached down, caught her wrist in his hand and tugged her to her feet, and asked, “What the hell was that about?”

  “Just a brawl between friends,” Cat said with a smile, wincing when her lip split a bit farther. “Got a problem with that?”

  “We met fighting.” He shrugged. “Seems logical to stick with what we know.”

  Cat wiped the blood from her chin and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re getting better. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “You fight dirty.” His mop of hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at his knees, tested their mobility.

  “It didn’t slow you down much.”

  Steffen retrieved his sword, and they leaned against the château side by side. He was a good guy, but when she’d met him, he’d been spiraling toward self-destruction. Cat had taught him that his poorly mended hamstrings and a noticeable limp were not weaknesses. She’d shown him that his strength came from within, and the demons hadn’t taken that away.

  She’d known from the beginning that he longed to meet the sun, so she used it to teach him a different way of fighting. Steffen had slowly morphed his style into one that resembled hers. Fight like you’re invincible. Bleed, then hit back. And if you’re going to die, then die fighting for what you believe in. He’d taken to the concepts instantly, turning his thoughts from the sun to protecting his city with a skill he hadn’t realized he could achieve.

  Suddenly she realized he wasn’t watching the trees. Steffen looked to the east. Ah, God, he was feeling the pull of the sun again.

  “You know, these demons aren’t done,” Cat said, and waited until he looked at her to speak again. “Don’t leave me yet.”

  He gave her a sad, half smile. “I won’t.”

  “And don’t you dare go without saying good-bye,” she said in her best mom voice.

  His gaze shot to hers, a look of utter surprise across his face. “You’re not going to forbid me to die?”

  “No. It’s your life. Your choice.”

  Steffen looked to the east again, and after a moment, nodded.

  “I’m going in.” She stood, then turned back to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yeah,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I’ll be here.”

  A promise of one day was good enough, and probably the best Steffen was able to do. She left him at his post and slipped inside the château. Cat didn’t like walking through the large empty great hall, the kitchen, or cellar. There was no life here. Fading into Spirit, she dropped through the floor, the foundation, and into the outer corridor where she reappeared.

  No one but Guardians walked the outer corridors, and at the moment everything was quiet. Cat glanced over her shoulder, peering down the long, barren hallway. She felt as though she was being watched, but then, she felt like that every day.

  Down her corridor, the peaceful blue carpet was a welcoming sight. Cat walked into her home, and the first thing she saw was Rollin sitting at the table.

  He glanced up at the clock. “What kept you?”

  “We’re not doing this role reversal thing.” Cat pinned him with a sharp glare as she walked through the kitchen and into her bedroom to remove her weapons, placing them in her top dresser drawer. She propped her sword in the small nook between the dresser and the corner of the room. “You can parent them, but not me.”

  Rollin came to stand in the bedroom doorway, and pointed to her face. “What happened to you?”

  She brought her hand to her face. Her nose still bled.

  “Steffen,” Cat said. “I started it.”

  He nodded, catching her meaning. “I don’t get you two.”

  “Some things you don’t need to ‘get,’ you just accept it as the way things are.” She froze, struck by the lesson that applied to more than the current topic. She didn’t understand the invisible force that bound her and Navarre together, but it was there. Could she not just accept it for what it was?

  Rollin’s voice broke through her thoughts. “I still don’t like that he hit you.”

  She’d intended to continue her conversation with Rollin, but suddenly realized three children were here in her bedroom. Maeryn and Oriana huddled together on her bed as close as they could with their legs crossed in front of them, whispering girlish secrets. Jovan sat on the floor, legs stretched out, reading a book.

  Rollin walked in, arms crossed, taking up a familiar place at her side. He looked down at her and whispered, “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” she said. For a moment she was surprised by the honesty in her words. “Where’s Dulcina?”

  “She took Barro out to hunt. Soren went with her.” Rollin dropped his voice, a thing he did when co-parenting. “I know it’s Jovan’s job, but she volunteered to take him out. I think she needed to be alone, or at least away from us for a while.”

  Cat nodded. Dulcina making an effort to find solitude was nothing new, but Jovan was her sole curiosity at the moment. Had he willingly cracked open a book? Not normal. Cat walked up to him, bumped his leg with her boot to draw his attention. “What’s going on here?”

  “Homework,” he said, not bothering to look up. “I need to be smart.”

  “Oh, really.” Cat had been trying to get him to take school seriously for years. “And why is that?”

  “I decided something.” Jovan stood, tossed the book on the bed, and folded his hands together behind his back. The imperial bearing of a thirteen-year-old who’d made up his mind.

  “Ah, you have an announcement,” Cat said, and found an open space on the bed beside the girls. “Well, let’s hear it.”

  Rollin came around to stand off to the side of the bed, but didn’t sit.

  Jovan waited patiently for Oriana to stop fiddling with her doll, then said, “I plan t
o be lord one day.”

  Cat smiled. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but that’s not possible.”

  “Sure it is.” Jovan tipped his head, looking at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d missed the obvious. “We’re yours. You marry Navarre, and I’m in.”

  Taking a deep breath, Cat tried to sort out how to gently let him down. “Listen, it doesn’t—”

  “Long live Lord Jovan!” Maeryn cried out her support as she popped up to her knees.

  Jovan stared at her, wide-eyed and as shocked as everyone else to hear Maeryn put some real volume behind her voice. When an uncertain smile curled Jovan’s lips, Maeryn covered her mouth, ducked her dark head, and giggled. The bubbling sound was infectious, and soon everyone was laughing.

  Oriana elbowed Cat to make sure she’d noticed. She had. Cat had never seen Jovan interested in doing anything significant with his life. This animated show he put on was a true anomaly, a glimpse of his boyish side she’d feared lost forever.

  Jovan put his fists on his hips, turning left, then right. He flexed his muscles, showing off. Maeryn clapped, then began to curtsy on the bed in her nightgown. Clasping his hands together, Jovan raised them above his head to one side, then the other as if in victory.

  This was a moment. A time in her life she’d never forget. Rollin would leave home in a year or two, and without all five of them, these moments wouldn’t exist, at least not in the same way.

  With a smile on her face, she watched Jovan take Oriana’s hand and bow deeply. The terms “good sir” and “my dear lady” were thrown around freely, much to Rollin’s amusement. His big shoulders shook as he laughed at their childish views of gallantry.

  Turning his focus to Rollin, Jovan threw his shoulders back and reached out his hand. Rollin played along, clasping Jovan’s wrist, and shaking. He greeted Cat with an exaggerated bow, and said, “My lady, so lovely to see you tonight.”

  Then Jovan came to the foot of the bed, bowed before Maeryn, and covered his heart with his hand. “Oh, sweetest lady in all of my city…”