I stare at her. Simply stare, without expression or words, because I need to know what she knows, or thinks she knows.
After a few moments, she speaks. “Do you really not know what your mother has done?” she asks, her voice grave. “What she did all those years ago?”
I cut her off by taking a threatening step toward her, forcing her back to hit the wall. Once she’s trapped, I lean over her and cage her between my arms. “Enlighten me.”
Confused eyes search mine. “By the gods, you don’t.”
“My patience with you is thinning, nymph.”
Freya solemnly nods. “Do you ever wonder why my mother was promised to my father? A simple woodland nymph without a drop of royal blood in her body, promised to the emperor of the water fairies, the ruler of the second most powerful realm in existence?”
“As I understand it, Lily was my mother’s best friend, her favorite lady. Our realms then, like now, were on the brink of war, and their union, like ours, was negotiated to secure alliances and peace,” I reply in a cool tone.
“That is the tale they tell in the light of day. My mother has another version. One that she would recount to me as a small child in the dark hours of the night. For years, I thought it nothing more than a bedtime story. A fairy tale.”
“Go on,” I bite out, humoring her.
“Do you wish me to share it with you?”
I crack my neck. “Isn’t that what we’re doing? Sharing?”
“Years ago, on a warm summer’s eve, the archangel Michael visited Queen Ophelia. The meeting was a secretive affair, held in Her Majesty’s private chambers, with only her most trusted lady present as witness.”
“Continue.” My interest is piqued at the mention of Michael’s name.
“He spoke of a daughter he’d given life to, a human, who was in grave danger because the dark forces hunted her.”
“Are you speaking of Serena’s aunt, Eve?”
“Yes.”
“Keep going,” I demand, now engaged.
“Years prior, the Angelic Council and the dark army signed a peace treaty, but the time had expired on it, and a new accord was needed. The archangel had placed his daughter’s life under the protection of the gargoyles, but the royal clan was facing treachery and deceit within their own race. Fearing his daughter’s protection would be short lived, he went directly to Asmodeus and negotiated a second treaty.”
“An archangel negotiating with a demon lord? Why?”
“As I recall, Asmodeus blamed the gargoyles for the death of his mate, Lady Finella, and for that, Michael promised to grant him revenge. An eye for an eye. He told Asmodeus of the baby that Serena’s mother, Abby, was carrying—the next heir to the protector throne. In exchange for promising to no longer hunt Eve, Michael vowed that the Angelic Council would step out of the way if Asmodeus chose to go after, and end, the future heir.”
“Serena?” I push away from her and ponder her words.
“The gargoyle princess,” she confirms.
“What does this have to do with my mother, or me?”
“After the second treaty was agreed to by both sides, Michael searched for a way to protect the unborn child. I’m unsure how, but he became aware that Queen Ophelia had a son who was half gargoyle. He was desperate to safeguard the unborn child, knowing the fate he’d brought upon it.”
My eyes roam over the grounds surrounding the castle as realization dawns on me. “Michael couldn’t go to Asher, the future king, or anyone else within the gargoyle race to ask for their protection of the child, because they would have learned of his deceitfulness against them.” I pause and tighten my jaw as I put the pieces together. “He could, however, go to the one protector hidden within the woodland realm. The one that no one knew existed.”
“Except Her Majesty,” she adds.
I slide my glance back to Freya. “Tell me more.”
“At first the queen refused, but then—” she stops.
“Then what?” I ask, irritated, and step next to her.
“Michael threatened to tell the child’s father of his existence if she did not agree. Therefore, the queen had no choice but to acquiesce,” she sighs. “Or so the story goes.”
“The child being me. And the father is Gage,” I surmise, and she dips her chin in affirmation.
“My mother went on to tell me that Michael introduced Abby to Queen Ophelia under the pretenses that Her Majesty would assist with décor for Asher and Eve’s mating ceremony and Asher’s coronation gala,” she continues.
“That’s why she allowed me to go with her that night.”
“Michael had his brother, Uriel, distract Gage and Callan, Serena’s father, under the guise of last-minute security preparations and discussions. He feared they would see what was happening and prevent the bond,” she finishes.
“The bond?” I repeat. “A blood link would have been needed to tether us,” I think aloud. “I didn’t blood bond with Serena that day, I simply placed my hand on Abby’s stomach,” I mutter aloud. “How did we bond so quickly?”
“You’re half satyr. An empath. Even you are aware you can emotionally connect with an unborn child in the same manner that a protector can bond through blood,” she points out. “My guess would be that once your blood mixed with hers all those months ago, it heightened your pre-established attachment to her, strengthening the link.”
I shake my head, trying to figure this out. “If my mother knows this, why the hell would she agree to our marriage?”
Freya’s watery eyes meet mine. “Queen Ophelia wanted you to have a cessation. Me. I am your way out, Tristan.”
“What?”
“A powerful seer once told my mother in Her Majesty’s presence that her only child would be a daughter.”
“You,” I assume.
She nods. “Queen Ophelia struggled for weeks after you bonded with Serena. She never wanted you to be part of the protector world, or linked to someone without free will.”
“So my mother devised a backup plan?”
“As her best friend, my mother knew she had to help ease Her Majesty’s burdens,” Freya whispers.
I look away. “So, Lily agreed to marry Oren. Then our mothers, knowing Lily would have a daughter, promised their children in marriage. Peace for our realms was simply a byproduct of their secret. Does Oren know all of this?”
“No.”
I reach under my shirt and pull out my insignia, which hangs off a leather rope. “How does the Sun of Vergina play into all of this?”
The nymph princess opens her mouth and then falls silent, as irritation creases her brows before speaking.
“Freya,” I warn.
“Her Majesty arranged for the god of the sun to enchant it before you bonded with Serena,” she admits.
“Why?”
“Queen Ophelia feared that if you linked to the unborn child, you would unknowingly choose her as your bonded mate. You were young; she did it to protect your heart.”
“Or control me.” I stare across the gardens toward the brunch where everyone is gathered. “What does the magic do?” I ask, already knowing but needing to hear it aloud.
“It’s a prophetic charm. The Sun of Vergina prophecy states that of your own free will, you shall choose your love and she will bear your mark for all to see that she is yours, and yours alone.” Her hand wraps around my arm. “It is your decision, Tristan. Not even a link can force it. Once you choose, the gods and goddesses will bless your fate.”
And there it is.
“It marks your fated love’s body with your insignia.” I repeat to myself, working through the conversation.
“You see,” she slides in front of me and holds my face in her palms, forcing my attention. “The Sun of Vergina is your cessation. Once we are married, and you choose to love me, I will bear your mark and you will be free of your emotional link to her, forever. You don’t love her; you’re merely tied by a bond. And in the process, we will prevent war and secure peace for
our realms. There is no downside.”
I stare at her with a blank expression.
She has it wrong.
The Sun of Vergina prophecy has already been fulfilled.
I’ve already chosen.
And the gods and goddesses have blessed it.
It is to be war, not peace for our realms.
Serena
HEAVY BOOTS STOMPING ON STONE ECHO throughout the silent halls. They stop abruptly as they near us, and Zander looks at me over his shoulder, bringing his index finger to his lips, silently telling me to remain quiet as the castle guards finish their rounds. Seconds later, the sound picks up again and becomes softer as the guards walk in the opposite direction.
I stare at the back of his shirt, trying not to make a sound. A few moments later he motions for me to follow him and we make our way through a few empty hallways before coming to a large, heavy, wooden door.
Zander pauses for a moment, staring at it with a confused look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“It’s unguarded,” he matches my quiet tone.
“So?” I look around nervously.
“The queen’s chambers are never unguarded. It’s odd.”
“Odd or not, we don’t really have time to ponder it.”
Agreeing, he grabs the knob of the door, opening it and ushering me in before closing it, encasing us in darkness.
“Zander?” I call out, unable to see him.
“Hold on,” he replies quietly.
In an instant, the tiniest sliver of sunlight beams past a heavy, regal, velvet curtain, offering just enough light for the room to appear shadowed, but still allow us to move without tripping over something. I’ll have to rely on my gargoyle supernatural vision for the rest of my sight.
“Okay, if the queen were to keep important paperwork or documents, it would be in this room,” he speaks softly. “Be mindful that anything could be of importance.”
“Got it.”
Slowly, we make our way around the eclipsed chamber and begin open and closing drawers, rummaging through them, looking for anything that would tie Oren or Ophelia to signs of treason, or attempts on Tristan’s life.
After what feels like hours, we are still empty-handed.
“I don’t see anything,” I say.
He groans. “Gross. Did you eat onions at brunch?”
I put my hand out and accidentally smack his face.
“Why are you so close to me?”
“I thought you might want to make out,” he replies.
“I don’t. And stop fooling around. We’re never going to protect Tristan if we don’t find anything,” I scold.
“Wait, what’s that?” he queries. “That’s new.”
I follow him over to an old chest hidden under a faded tapestry. He fidgets with the lock, and within seconds it pops open. With pride, he looks up and offers me a smirk.
“How did you do that so quickly?” I ask, awestruck.
Zander wiggles his fingers at me. “Practice. I can also take off your bra within five seconds—if you ever want.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t, but good to know.”
“Save that for later.” He smiles and opens the trunk farther.
We rifle through its contents before he pushes air slowly through his lips on a low curious whistle.
“What?”
He pulls out a small piece of paper. It’s tea-stained and thin—almost transparent—ancient-looking. On it is a drawing of a golden sun containing sixteen triangular rays.
The name Helios is handwritten on the bottom after lines of Greek. They’ve faded and are hard to read.
“Isn’t that Tristan’s insignia?” I study the symbol.
“Don’t you mean, isn’t that the freckle behind my ear I haven’t told Tristan about, Zander? Why yes, Serena, it is. Excellent observation,” he mocks.
I ignore his antics. “So, Ophelia has a drawing of it.”
“One that she’s hiding, in a locked chest, under a rug.”
“Who’s Helios?” I ask, meeting his eyes as he stands.
“I’d be happy to answer that for you,” a deep, confident, masculine voice replies, causing Zander and me to freeze.
Tristan.
Zander’s eyes widen. “Quick, make out with me.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that to her.” Tristan’s heavy boots stomp on the stone as they approach.
The sound is the same as the one we heard earlier in the hallway. It wasn’t guards; it was Tristan following us.
Zander and I both turn and face him.
“If your lips so much as graze hers, I’ll cut yours off without a second thought,” he says, using a velvety, cocky tone.
I pinch my brows. “What are you doing here?”
The confident protector releases a dark chuckle, unnerving me, as his stare runs the length of me.
He tilts his head to the side, watching my reaction. “Watching you two sneak around my mother’s chambers.”
I swallow at having been caught.
Zander steps forward and narrows his gaze. “You called off the guards?” he accuses, half amused, half annoyed.
Tristan is cool and calm, eerily controlled compared to his mood yesterday. Something has shifted, and he’s no longer angered or frustrated. He’s back in control and confident.
He’s standing so close to me that even in the dark, I can see the sexy scar on his upper lip. My body hums at his closeness, and I curb the desire to fold myself into his arms.
“I had to step away from brunch. When I returned, I noticed you two conspiring and slithering off. I followed you. For being second in command of the queen’s army, Zander, you need to work on your stealth skills,” he banters.
Teasing? He’s joking around?
“What is going on?” I ask again, confused.
“I believe that’s my question to ask,” Tristan responds.
Zander clears his throat and grabs my hand. “You shouldn’t have followed us. Maybe I brought Serena in here to have my way with her,” he declares. “We are courting.”
“So I’ve heard.” Tristan’s eyes slide between us and he raises his hands in surrender. “By all means, then, don’t let me interfere. Please, woo her.”
I lock my gaze on the silver and hematite rings adorning his fingers and blink a few times. “You’ve been in here this whole time, Tristan, and have overheard our conversation. I know you know we aren’t really together,” I point out.
He bends down, piercing me with an amused expression. “That is true. I do know. But I’ve known longer than the past ten minutes. Besides, I know you, and I know your heart. I didn’t need to hear the conversation to discern that you’re fated to be mine, raindrop.”
I still, regarding him for a moment.
“I’d like to be brought into the loop on what it is the two of you think I need protection from, but not here. There are too many eyes and ears at the castle. I also have something to share with you both,” he adds. “It has something to do with the freckle you seem to know that you have.”
Mindlessly, I lift my finger and rub it.
“Your cabin?” Zander replies militarily.
“Yes, but I don’t want us followed. Since I can only teleport with one other person, I’ll take Serena. Zander, you can meet us there,” he directs. “Give us a bit of a head start.”
“Will do,” Zander agrees without a fight.
Leaning into his brother’s ear, Tristan whispers something that even my heightened gargoyle hearing can’t pick up, causing Zander’s surprised gaze to find mine.
Tristan moves between us, blocking his brother as he steps closer. When his chest touches mine, I stop breathing and lift my gaze. “I won’t let anything happen to you—on my honor,” he whispers hoarsely.
“That’s a pretty big promise to make to someone who isn’t your betrothed,” I retort.
He swallows and looks over my head, working his jaw as his hands
slide around my waist. He takes a soothing breath and he tugs me closer, his eyes finally meeting mine.
“Yeah, that’s all about to change, raindrop.”
In the next moment, the castle walls suddenly shift, and within seconds we are in the master suite of his cabin. I don’t move. I’m not sure I am even breathing anymore. Having him this close is blissful, and yet painful, because I know at any moment he’s going to pull away. Ending the wholeness that I feel in his arms.
“Answer me something,” he murmurs in my ear, not letting me go. Instead, he tightens his grip on me.
“Anything,” I barely manage.
“With our bond severed, do you still feel for me?”
My hands clench the sleeves of his shirt, needing something to hold onto before my knees give out.
“Yes.”
He pulls me more firmly against him. “If the bond never existed, would you still want me?” he asks against my neck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore his warm breath tickling my skin. “Want you. Yes, of course.”
“And if the bond were still there?”
“Bond or no bond, it doesn’t matter to me,” I promise.
Then his lips are on my neck, and my breath hitches.
My lower lip trembles and desire explodes through me at his touch. I lean into him. Tristan murmurs something softly against my neck before leaving a trail of small kisses.
He moves upward until he reaches the spot behind my ear, where his insignia is. When he presses a final kiss to it, the mark sparks to life as if it recognizes him.
The slight sting causes me to whimper aloud before the tip of Tristan’s tongue runs over it, soothing it back to a calmed state. He pulls back and looks down at me, smiling.
“How are you able do that?” I ask. “We don’t share our protector bond anymore; you can’t heal me,” I point out.
“Because you’re mine,” he replies, and devours my lips.
His mouth covers mine completely and his tongue slips in, pushing against mine as we fight for control of the kiss. This kiss isn’t soft and gentle. It’s firm and demanding. Controlling. It’s meant to mark me, to make me his again.
My hands reach around his neck and pull him more firmly against me. His hands dive into my hair as he deepens the kiss. I bite down lightly and then suck on his lower lip, causing a growl to escape his mouth as his hands grip my face. I arch up to meet him, needing to be closer to him, and still, I’m not close enough. I pull, tug, and grip, trying to get my body to melt into his as his eager and warm lips glide over mine. Taking and pushing. I just want to rip my clothes off and lose myself in him, branding him as mine.
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