by AJ Nuest
Ha, ha, fucking hilarious. Rhys scrubbed a hand along his jaw. Okay, that response had to be a resounding no.
“Goddesses tits, my boy!” The king grinned, slapping a hand on Rhys’ shoulder. “I daresay you have met your match.” Eyes sparkling with mischief, he tugged Rhys into a rough one-armed hug, lifting his other hand toward his wife. “Indeed, I’ve made the right choice. This marriage shall serve them both well.”
* * *
The man’s head was filled with horse dung if he assumed for one heartbeat she would bind her life to his in matrimony.
Faedrah marched along the serrated spikes of the diamond encrusted passageway, her footfalls determined though the light from Fandorn’s staff faded at her back. Why ever would she do something so incredibly daft? A few more strides and the eerie glow of deep gloaming saturated the tunnel. So Rhys could disregard her the moment of his choosing? So he could cast himself into oblivion and leave her heartbroken and inconsolable, a withering rose seated upon the Austiere throne?
“Faedrah!”
If he truly believed she would willingly consent to such foolishness, he could kiss her barren backside!
The channel narrowed and she cautiously braced her palm on to the wall to steady her balance. Nights beyond numbering she had fought Gaelleod’s cruel incursion of her dreams only to end dying upon the sharp edge of his dagger. Yet Rhys all but served himself upon a silver platter to fulfill the dark lord’s most coveted schemes.
Were those the actions of a man whose heart’s desire was to live out his days at her side? She would think not!
“Faedrah, stop! Just wait a second. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
As if he cared one way or the other. She spun to face him, whipping a short sword from the baldric at her back. A flashing arc of silver spliced the air as she leveled the deadly tip at his chest. “You wish to die? You crave an ending to our quest?”
Pulling up short, he lifted both hands in a show of surrender. “All right. I get you’re pissed, but let’s put the sword down, okay?”
Absurd. As if the silver of her blade was of any more threat to him than the down of a feather. Yet she would drive her point home with whatever tools were at her disposal. “Do not order me about as if one thought to my wellbeing is foremost in your mind.” Stepping forward, she jabbed the tip of her blade into his chest. A soft chime vibrated against the crystalline walls, traveling the length of the silver into her hand. “You’ve proven well enough my happiness is not the least of your concerns.”
He frowned, withdrawing a step as she prodded and poked. “What the hell are you talking about? Your happiness is important to me.”
Ha! Twice since their arrival in her realm he had presented himself for execution. Perchance his third attempt would be just the charm. “Then you think me blind? An addle-brained fool?”
“Of course not!” Anger glinted in his eyes, sparking with the same verdant starlight as the green diamonds cluttered around their feet. “I just asked you to marry me, for Christ’s sake. Not sure about this world, but in mine that question pretty much defines love and respect.”
“And yet, at every turn you seek to present Gaelleod the achievement of his goals.” She backed him against the wall, and irritation plucked at her nerves as the diamonds behind him melded to a slick sheet of glass. Threatening a wizard of his means was an exercise in futility. Particularly in lieu of his persistent need to do himself in. “Above all, your father stands to gain the exact fulfillment of his desires should your life cease to exist.”
“Oh, now hold up just a second. You got that backwards.” Encircling her blade in his bare hand, he forced the weapon down between them. “If I die, Leo gets nothing. He needs my body, Faedrah. If I take it away, his plans aren’t worth shit.”
A rueful smile tugged one side of her lips, and she huffed, releasing the hilt of her sword. Let him have her blade. ʼTwas of no use to her if he did not see her point. “As are mine, my love. As are mine.”
Backing away from him, she searched his gaze. Did he presume for one moment she did not know? That she had not lived and breathed his same wretched bitterness through Vaighn? “And watching you destroy yourself? Bearing witness to the anguish such deeds would cause in those who hold you most dear? Would that not present Gaelleod the ultimate pinnacle of his desires?”
Rhys hesitated, his fingers whitening around the circumference of her blade.
“Ten years I stood silent while Vaighn struggled to live down the transgressions of his father. Ten years borne of insurrections which were not rightfully his.” Her voice caught and she gritted her teeth against the misery bearing down upon her chest. “Vaighn’s father did not leave. His evil deeds did not disappear into the ether. Braedric Austiere has been with his son every day since the moment of Vaighn’s birth…controlling his actions, determining his fate, altering Vaighn’s life into something ʼtwas never meant to be.”
Jabbing her finger at the ground, she locked her knees against the impulse to reclaim the distance between them. She refused to allow her beloved to suffer Vaighn’s fate. There had been enough misplaced guilt. Enough misery over past hurts. Shouldering such hopeless duties would serve neither of them any good. “I will not have it from the man who binds his life to mine. I will not.”
But, perchance, her petition came too late. She eased back another step, shaking her head. “Gaelleod controls you even now, my love. You hold within your beautiful, loyal heart the ability to steal from him everything he craves, yet you freely offer him your life as if everything it entails is his just reward.”
The tension eased from Rhys’ jaw. His shoulders lowered, and the anger in his gaze transformed into awareness a scant moment before his eyes slipped closed.
“If you truly despise him as you say you do, there would be no sweeter revenge than to persevere. Become the antithesis of all that Gaelleod embodies. Best him on our terms, and accept the blessings you’ve been granted by living on in happiness and peace.”
Rhys lowered his head and, in the silence which ensued, three heavy heartbeats pulsed in Faedrah’s ears. He must accept she had spoken true or every moment they shared moving forward would be tainted with bitterness and loss.
She would not permit their life together to start in such a way. Braedric…Gaelleod…the evil plaguing her kingdom had already overshadowed the joy bestowed upon her brother. She would not stand idly by and let its filthy taint go unchecked.
“God dammit.” Rhys’ chest rose with a deep intake of breath. He glanced down at his hand and turned the sword as if, for the first, realizing he held it in his fingers. His focus lingered along the blade before he lifted his gaze to hers. “I never saw it that way.”
“Indeed.” She crossed her arms, arching a shrewd brow. Yet the mystery remained how he planned to proceed moving forward. “And now that you do?”
A grunt bounced his shoulders and he flipped the sword, offering the hilt in her direction. “Whatever we decide, I’m gonna do my best to give Leo hell. I choose to fight…and live.”
Thank the nine. She slumped as the weight of her declaration eased from her shoulders. Her heart would have certainly been lost had he not consented, though chances were high they would have hounded each other until some or another settlement had been reached.
She grasped the hilt of her sword, casting a gentle smile toward the man she loved. Yet instead of releasing the weapon, he jerked her close, slipped one arm about her waist and hauled her to his chest.
“So, now that we got that worked out, you gonna answer my question?” The fingers of his other hand dove into her hair, and he angled her head as if he longed for the taste of her lips.
The whisper of his breath spread a seductive warmth through her body. A firm wall of muscle met her stomach as she relaxed inside the tight band of his arm. He widened his stance to cradle her hips and her pulse spiked, his palm easing down to cup her bottom and apply a generous squeeze.
An edgy impatience mounted between them, their bodies
swaying as they perched on the edge of a kiss. She slid her arm about his shoulders to pull him down to her lips, but he would not relent. Not until the words he hungered for had been formed by her tongue.
His brow twitched, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Only one response would grant her release from this desperate need and, to keep him with her, she would gladly submit. No danger in either world compared to agony she faced of forging ahead without him, and she closed her eyes to await the moment they would finally be joined in a kiss.
“I accept.”
Chapter 3
Faedrah’s eyes slipped closed as the strength of her mother’s embrace tightened about her shoulders. The unbound sheets of the queen’s white tresses slid glossy and sleek beneath her palm, and Faedrah curled her fingers in their silky texture, hugging her mother back just as fierce. The slightest tip of her head and the scent of night blooming jasmine filled her senses, mixed with subtle warmth and the familiar perfume of her mother’s skin.
“Oh, that the Goddesses had granted us another way.”
The strike of her father’s boot heels continued their nervous pace under her mother’s bare whisper, and Faedrah squeezed her eyelids to thwart the budding threat of her tears. Chances were high, once her sorrow arrived, it would not cease, and she would not allow herself to assume the worst, regardless of the grim circumstances she and Rhys were about to face.
“The future has not yet been set. Let us not despair an outcome Rhys and I will strive our utmost to avoid.”
However much they had struggled to reject the truth…no matter the wrath of her father’s anger or Fandorn’s pursuits to aid in their quest, none could deny the path before them had been set.
She and Rhys had been offered no other choice but to return to his world and battle Gaelleod in the future.
Yet, with this decision, a bleak despondency had settled about them like an unshakable shroud. ʼTwas no guarantee the strength of Rhys’ powers would follow him through to his world and, in taking such a leap, the likelihood Faedrah and Rhys would never return had continued to grow thick and foreboding in the air.
Her father’s footsteps ceased, and despite the hopelessness Faedrah warred to keep from invading her heart, a gentle smile graced her lips as she envisioned the way he habitually raked his hair back from his brow. “Can we not delay this leave-taking but a day or two longer? Perchance, given more time, we can ferret out a more optimistic course.”
With the parting of a reassuring squeeze, Faedrah released her mother and withdrew a pace to find the king standing across the throne room, facing the vibrant magenta sky glorifying Helios’ descent through an open stained-glass window.
Several days had passed since their sojourn to Gaelleod’s crypt, and though they’d discussed the topic at length, tarrying long into the night, nary an alternative had made itself known.
She neared the window and slipped her hand around the king’s upper arm, leaning the side of her head against his shoulder. “To what end, father? We have delayed long enough and at our kingdom’s expense.”
Beneath the splendor of the radiant sky, the Austiere fields lay blackened beyond recognition. Leafless trees reached skyward amid tendrils of acrid smoke, their putrid odor wafting from fissures rent upon the barren ground. The once thriving forest beyond had altered to a hard black slash, vacant of all life save whatever vile spawn sought sanctuary in Gaelleod’s malicious fog.
“We cannot allow the dark lord’s plague to run rampant throughout the entirety of our lands.” Faedrah brought her other hand to her chest and fisted the golden key in her fingers. Lifting her head, she turned to better study the profile of her father’s face. Had it truly been less than a fortnight ago she had longed for escape? To cast aside his concerns in lieu of seeking her fate?
What a fool she had been.
Regret built as a heated weight at the base of her throat, and she quickly snapped her focus back to the inhospitable view. What a silly, spoiled little girl. How could she have ever regarded this white castle perched high atop the sprawling mountains as a prison? What manner of discourteous entitlement had she harbored to imagine her privileged life as a curse? If now given the choice, she would have happily agreed to remain sheltered within the safe haven of her parents’ home.
Unfurling her fingers, she stared down at the mysterious treasure cradled in the center of her palm. She’d once craved the forbidden fruits of the key’s enigmatic secrets and, in doing so, had opened a doorway leading to her fated half. Though her life would be lost without him, at what cost had she made such an impetuous decision? Only to become the figurehead guiding those she loved to heartache and ruin? To watch her kingdom fall to its knees before an enemy of invincible doom?
She had longed to be the savior of her people and, instead, she had led them straight into Gaelleod’s inescapable trap.
“Majesties. I’ve found something.”
Faedrah turned from the window, as did her father, to find Fandorn entering the throne room through a side door. His footfalls were hurried, his gray robes training behind him, his hair a wild mass of tangles about his head. He carried a large leather-bound tome in both hands and brought it to a decorative table along the wall, dropping it with a resounding bang. “Look here.”
The binding crackled with age as he flipped to the center, and Faedrah hastened to close the distance as he aimed a rigid finger at an illustration bound on the right-hand side. “Have you seen this dagger, my child?”
The queen strode up behind her, along with her father and Rhys as Faedrah stared, unblinking, at the page. Goat-headed forms writhed in ecstasy down either side of the diagram and, in the middle, a large silver blade dripped crimson with blood, an inverted pentagram cast in gold upon the hilt.
ʼTwas the same curved blade she’d seen in her nightly visions…and the same Gaelleod had cruelly plunged into her beloved’s chest.
Faedrah closed her eyes against the horrifying reminder and spun away. “Indeed. Yet, I’ve not the occasion to view it firsthand.” Blinking, she turned back to the table and locked on to Rhys, and her heart rebelled as an anguished understanding filled his gaze. “’Twas shown to me in a dream. You bring us the dagger Gaelleod employs to complete his rite of transformation.”
The king muttered a curse as the queen’s shoulders fell. She peeked askance at Rhys before addressing the aged wizard. “What does this mean, Fandorn? Have you found its location?”
“I have not, my queen.” One of the wizard’s bushy eyebrows rose, though he kept his attention pinned to Faedrah, and she shivered as a dire warning tempered his words. “I fear this instrument of the dark lord’s vile incantations has been secreted far outside our reach.” He reached down with one hand, and dust wafted into the air as he slammed the cover, shuttering the image from view. “Gaelleod’s knife contains a dark magic which spans far beyond the limits of our kingdom, and is the only blade promised to withhold the power and capacity to kill him.”
Faedrah snapped her focus to Rhys. He’d withdrawn to pace before the open armoire, the veil aglow with shimmering light, the dark-blue curtain crumpled aside in preparation for their leap. As if sensing her perusal, he stopped and met her gaze, and her heart skittered forward at the unyielding determination etched upon his face. “Well, then, we’d damn well better go find it. Based on Faedrah’s dreams, I’m guessing the bastard’s got it with him in the future.”
She would gladly offer her life in payment to safeguard those she loved, a sacrifice to secure the wellbeing of her kingdom and, deep within his eyes, she knew. Rhys, as well, was prepared to take what necessary steps to protect her people.
Yet, to pilfer the treasure Gaelleod valued above all other? To steal inside his lair and slaughter him with the very object meant to secure his rule? A harsh breath left her lips over the outcome of such appalling odds.
Perchance, if she and Rhys stayed true…if they stood united, their hearts forged by the purest of intentions, all would not be lost.
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She had to believe as much. No other reassurances remained.
His chin lowered the slightest degree as he searched her face. Torchlight from the sconces set about the room winked off the silver vambraces encasing his forearms. Magic ignited to spark and sizzle along his hands. “Our time together isn’t over, Faedrah. Not by a long shot.”
A small smile came unbidden to her lips, and she nodded. “I know, my heart.” Still, the question remained. How many passings of Helios’ bright face were left them? How many tender moments before their time of reckoning drew nigh? “And there is much yet to be done.”
She stepped toward the armoire, but was waylaid as the king’s large hand grasped her shoulder. He spun her to face him and a breath left her throat as her father whisked her into his arms. “You shall return to us, daughter.” Cupping her head to the hard wall of his chest, he centered her cheek over the steady beat of his heart. “Swear it to me now. Swear to me you will return unharmed or I fear I shall order you remain in this realm.”
Wrapping one arm about his waist, she fisted the soft folds of his shirt. “I shall do my utmost to try, P’pa.”
His muscles tensed beneath her palm. Holding her tight, he placed a firm kiss upon the top of her brow and then thrust her away, his footfalls brisk as he crossed the room for his gilded throne.
Stamping down the urge to follow and request one last embrace, Faedrah pivoted back to her mother. The queen offered her hand, and Faedrah clutched it in hers as they joined Rhys before the armoire.
“No mother has ever been more proud, than I.” The queen grasped Rhys’ fingers, pausing a moment before relinquishing her hold on Faedrah and linking her hand with that of her betrothed. “The king and I owe you an unpayable debt. We love you both.”
Placing a tender kiss upon Faedrah’s cheek, the queen drew the curtain, shuttering Faedrah and Rhys within the magic of the veil. The strike of the queen’s footfalls faded against the high ceiling as she crossed the room.
Silence droned in Faedrah’s ears, at odds with the turmoil cascading through her heart. A breath stayed lodged within her chest as she lifted her gaze to the mirror.