“Ee-fah,” Zander assists.
“Sorry, who is she?”
“Tristan’s ex-girlfriend.”
I bristle. Zander’s grin is wide and bright. Serena just looks confused, and then irritated.
“Aoife is a magical tree sprite,” I explain.
“She’s not just a magical tree sprite,” Zander interjects. “She happens to be the most beautiful creature in existence. Literally. It’s what her name means. Her beauty is powered by the sun’s radiance.”
“Why Aoife?” I ignore the comments he’s making.
“Perhaps it’s her connection to Helios?” Zander deducts.
“If Laven is sending us to Aoife, she must know something. We have the engagement gala tomorrow night, but in the morning, we’ll seek her out. All of us.”
Serena turns to face me and hurt flashes briefly behind her eyes. “Great. I look forward to meeting the most beautiful creature in existence tomorrow. Who happens to be your ex-girlfriend. With the hope of finding out that your mother and fiancée’s father are committing treason against you. And for sure let’s bring your brother, who is in love with my best friend, and whom I am pretending to court.”
“Who writes this shit?” Zander asks.
“Whoever it is, they have a fucking dark sense of humor,” I reply.
“Tristan?” Freya’s voice cuts through the air, stopping everyone. We swing our attention to the front door. “What are you doing here?” she asks, looking around unhappily.
The nymph watches us, her eyes narrowing as her apprehension is replaced with fury. This is bad. Very bad.
I don’t flinch as she approaches the group. Slowly her gaze tears away from mine and floats around the group.
“I thought you were spending the evening at home, in the water realm?” I reply.
“I remembered I had a dress fitting in the morning, so I thought I would return this evening instead of in the early hours of sunlight,” she states. “Upon my return, your page mentioned to me you’d been gone for hours. I was worried.”
My page—who is now fired for speaking out of turn.
“It’s my fault.” Zander winks at her. “Serena and I got into an argument. She was out of control and enraged. Going on and on about her friend Magali. She thinks I’m still in love with her. It was insane. Women are insane.”
Both Freya and Serena throw nasty looks his way.
“What I meant is she was irrational. Violent in a crazed, jealous fit. Can you blame her though? She’s obsessed.”
Serena snarls at him but doesn’t move.
“Her Highness does appear,” Freya chooses her words carefully, “enraged. Why was Tristan involved in your dispute?”
Zander’s eyes slide to Serena. “She stabbed me.”
“What?” Freya exhales.
“With a kitchen knife,” he adds quickly.
Freya turns her angered gaze to Serena, who clears her throat, finally finding her voice. “Well, he’s an asshole.”
“Yes, of course he is, but that does not merit stabbing him,” Freya argues. “Gods help us. Where is the knife?”
I walk over to the sink, pick it up, and show her. Grateful that I didn’t wash the blood off. “Zander needed my help calming her down.”
My brother grinds his teeth at the jab. “My girl isn’t just any girl,” he fires back with a wicked smile. Zander walks up to Serena and cups her face, looking at her lovingly. “She’s a badass gargoyle princess warrior. Lesson learned. Right, champ?”
He leans toward her, as if he’s going to kiss her.
Her eyes spark with fire. “Careful. I won’t hesitate to stab you . . . again.”
Zander smirks at her and backs off.
Serena looks around him to Freya. “He likes it rough.”
Freya’s face pinches in disgust. “Perhaps the two of you should leave your . . . ,” she pauses, “private matters concealed behind closed doors and not involve Tristan. He has more important things to worry over than a simple lover’s spat.”
Zander moves behind Serena and smacks her on the ass, hard. She and I both flash him warning looks.
“There’s no lover’s spat here. Just plain old love.”
An awkward silence falls around us before Freya speaks.
“Tristan, perhaps we should return to the castle. We should discuss our plans for tomorrow evening.” Freya tilts her head toward Zander. “That is, if you are now feeling safe to be alone in your love’s presence.”
“Oh, I am. Thanks for checking,” he quips.
I turn to them both, keeping my face unreadable. Hating this fucking charade. Even more, hating leaving Serena.
“Zander, tomorrow we need to speak regarding the army. I’ll be here early. You can take me to meet,” I try to find a way to speak of Aoife without Freya discovering what I’m doing, “this new commander you feel is of value.”
Catching on, he nods. “Perfect.”
My eyes slide over to Serena. There is no sadness in her expression, only irritation that I’m leaving with Freya.
And I fucking hate it.
“If I see you holding a knife again,” I begin, “I will not hesitate. There will be a repeat of what happened earlier,” I threaten, and my eyes slide to the pool table, hoping she understands I’m referring to kissing the shit out of her on it. “And next time,” I lean in, attempting to seem menacing for Freya’s sake, “I won’t show restraint.” I give her the smallest smile before stepping toward the door to leave.
She frowns, but a glint of excitement and desire flickers in her eyes. “While I can’t promise that I won’t threaten him, you can be assured that I won’t lay a finger on your brother this evening.”
Relief floods me for some ridiculous reason. Our eyes latch on to each other before I give her a slight nod and follow my fiancée out the door.
A few days.
A few fucking days until I get to love her.
Serena
SUNLIGHT WARMS THE REALM. ITS YELLOW rays bounce off the lake, causing the clear water to glisten and shine with each movement it makes. A cloudless, expansive blue sky stretches above, its azure tint reflected in the liquid.
The trees and plant life here are so lush and vivid, it is hard to focus because you just want to look at everything and become one with the realm’s beauty.
My stomach clenches with apprehension as I listen to Zander and Tristan speak in hushed voices.
Tristan paces behind me, and when he stops, I watch his mirror image frown at me in the glass.
When our eyes meet, his frown deepens as he listens to his brother. I pay no attention to what Zander is going on about, because I can’t keep my eyes off Tristan.
The creases between his brows deepen and the need to smooth out the furrow surfaces within me. Something has caused him to worry, to change. He’s anxious about our uncertain future. More so than he was yesterday. His lips straighten in a grim line before he turns toward Zander.
“Laven will keep me informed.” Zander’s words are final and meant to end their conversation just as I tune in.
I twist and see Tristan staring at nothing at all, lost in thought. A moment later, his eyes connect with mine, causing my heart to stutter. He shoves a hand through his hair and glowers at the bookcase in the living room.
“What’s going on?” I ask in a soft tone.
“A complication,” he replies, then curses and begins to pace back and forth again.
My eyes slide to Zander, who is watching me solemnly. “Chancellor Davidson was murdered last night. He was found in his office this morning. Beheaded,” he explains.
When his words finally sink in I feel as though I can’t breathe. Henry wasn’t just the head of the Royal Protector Academy, he was also a close family friend. I look at Tristan.
He’s gauging me in the same way I’m gauging him.
“Henry is dead?” I ask, needing confirmation.
“Annabelle too. She was with him last night,” he replies.
> “Late at night?” I repeat, surprised.
“As in, with him with him,” Zander alludes.
A blush heats my cheeks; I knew they were fond of one another, just not in a physical manner. She was so lovely.
“What happened?” I question.
“We’re not sure.” The edginess in Tristan’s tone is unsettling. “Gage and Nassa are attempting to find out.”
Gage. He was extremely close with the chancellor.
My eyes roam over Tristan. Although it’s subtle, it’s apparent to me. He may not be sure, but I can see he has an idea of what happened and isn’t going to share it right now.
“Is Gage . . . um . . . okay?” I ask Tristan cautiously, knowing how he feels about his biological father.
“No. He’s not. He’s devastated.”
“Your clan knows, too,” Zander points out. “They’ve asked that we keep you here under our protection. The Academy’s security has been breached, which means it’s unsafe for you to return for any reason, Serena.”
“You mean they want me to hide,” I counter.
Tristan’s eyes follow me with a protective possessiveness. “You will stay in this realm where I can protect you. I’m sorry for your loss, I am, but whoever did this was able to bypass an entire school of protectors, which means it was either an inside job or the demons are getting smarter and are able to use dark magic against gargoyles.”
Sadness sinks in. I was very fond of the elder gargoyle who ran my family’s school. I’ll miss him terribly.
Tristan approaches me with a prowl, stopping so close in front of me that I’m forced to tip my head back to see his face. His stance is confident and controlled.
“Please,” he adds, and my heart sinks.
The plea is unlike him. I study him, noticing he looks even more formidable than normal. He’s worried. “Okay.”
Zander shifts. “Even with everything going on, we’ll need to keep up appearances today and go through the motions. We’re expected to meet with Aoife shortly.”
“We’ll be right there,” Tristan answers for us, his eyes never leaving mine.
Zander disappears as Tristan moves closer and entwines his fingers in my hair. My breath catches as he leans in, inhaling my scent. When he pulls back, his cheek skims mine, and I shiver. His soft breath falls on my ear.
“You okay?”
I nod, shocked and saddened at the news. “Do you really think it was the dark army? I mean, Henry was smarter than to let his guard down. If they can get to him, then—”
His thumb brushes over my cheek, but he doesn’t answer my question. “On my honor, it’s you and me from this moment forward—whatever happens.” His deep voice vibrates throughout my body, sending waves of desire through me. “There is nothing for you to fear.”
I pull back from him so I can read his expression.
“I’m not afraid. I’m sad and worried. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because they’re protecting me.”
He exhales slowly. “I can’t promise that won’t happen.”
“This is really bad, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, raindrop, it’s really fucking bad.”
Taking in a few deep breaths, I try to calm my racing heart. “Henry and Annabelle weren’t just friends, they were gargoyles. That made their lives my responsibility. Their blood was spilt while I was here—in your realm.”
“Stop. You are not seated on the throne yet. Don’t take this on,” he hushes. “Understand this, though: when you are on the throne, blood will be shed for your protection. That is our curse. You must accept this.” He looks me in the eyes.
I stand straighter and lift my chin. “You’re right. And as the future heir, I will fight off whatever it is trying to destroy my world and race. Or yours. And I’ll succeed.”
He leans forward and brushes my lips with his own for the tiniest of moments. “You’re incapable of failure.”
I blink at him a few times. “I’m incapable of escape.”
One hand travels down my back, as the other strokes my hair. “We should go. Aoife isn’t patient.”
I nod slowly and square my shoulders. He takes my hand and teleports us into the forest, under a canopy of emerald green leaves that appear to glow when the sun kisses them. Zander stands waiting for us in front a tree.
“About time,” he complains.
“Afraid of Aoife’s wrath?” Tristan asks as we approach.
“She bites,” his brother teases.
Moments later, we stand with him before the large tree. I look up. It soars higher than any tree I’ve ever seen.
“It’s a sequoia tree.” Tristan steps up beside me. “This particular one surpasses the height of the Hyperion tree.”
“Hyperion?”
“The humans’ tallest tree on the earth realm, standing over three hundred seventy-five feet tall,” he answers.
“By the grace, how colossal is this one?”
“Four hundred eighty-two feet.”
My lips part in awe at the sheer elevation.
“Huge, right?” Zander’s gaze is playful.
“Ginormous,” I push out on a breath.
“I knew you’d be impressed by size,” Zander banters.
I sigh at the underlying meaning behind his statement.
My voice is calm. “Must you turn everything sexual?”
“Once again, I. Am. A. Nymph. Sex is who and what I am,” he answers honestly. “And why is it that you are not affected by me? I’m designed to seduce you. But with you, nothing. No doe eyes. No weakness in the knees. Nada.”
I glance over at Tristan. “You’re just not my type.”
“You two are becoming annoyingly love-struck and as the third wheel in this little faux triangle, I don’t like it.”
I turn away and look straight ahead again at the tree. Its brownish-reddish bark is smooth, yet aged, with deep creases between the dips and valleys that adorn the trunk. There is no arch, just one lanky, strong column of bark that reaches skyward, climbing higher than the eye can see.
Tapered limbs cluster in certain areas and stretch outward from its core, like arms reaching out. A perfectly formed green triangle of leaves sits on top. The sun shining on the peak makes it appear as if it’s on fire.
At the base, strips of green and brown moss grow in a patchwork, like a dress, over the cracks and crevices of the trunk’s even lines. There are no branches that are dry, cracked, or broken.
It’s the most perfect tree I’ve ever seen.
“Would you like to greet her?” Tristan asks.
My gaze bounces between the tree and him. “Her? I-I don’t know . . . I mean, I don’t know how to,” I stammer.
Tristan smirks at me, and there’s something in his eyes as he assesses me—it’s like he’s never seen me before.
He steps behind me, his chest touching my back as he wraps his fingers around my left wrist. At his touch, my heart drums frantically in my chest and pounds in my ears.
Tristan guides us forward and I keep my eyes straight ahead, on the tree, even though I can feel his attention on my face.
He lifts my hand and places my palm upon the smooth-skinned trunk, his hand on top of mine, gently pressing.
Glancing upward, he whispers something in Greek.
Within seconds, an outline forms within the bark, startling me. Tristan lightens his grip and we take a step back. Long, lean legs lift and stretch out of the trunk, followed by an extremely tall outline of a curvy female body.
Two arms and a stunning face emerge last. The being’s skin color is similar to that of the tree trunk. It’s as if she morphed directly from the tree’s soul. She’s stunning.
Her back is still attached to the tree, making her appear as an extension of the trunk, like a naked tree hologram.
Both Tristan and Zander take a knee, leaving me standing awkwardly in awe and unsure what to do.
“Lady Sequoia,” Tristan greets.
The tall figure tilts her head. “Your R
oyal Highnesses,” she replies. Her voice sounds as if it’s being projected.
Both brothers stand and flank my sides.
“We have an appointment with Aoife,” Zander states.
“I am aware.” Her words echo in the quiet of the forest.
The sound of tree branches bending and twisting follow the motion of her head tilting in my direction. It’s eerie.
“You have brought the princess of the gargoyle race with you, have you not?” Lady Sequoia questions.
“We have,” Tristan replies, appearing apprehensive.
“Come closer, child,” she calls to me.
My mind whirls and I look to Tristan for approval. He dips his chin in consent, so I take a step closer to her.
“That is far enough,” she shrieks, panicking me.
Confusion sweeps through me at her sudden distress and I freeze, thinking I must have offended her somehow.
“You have not,” she replies, reading my mind.
My eyes widen, alarmed she overheard my thoughts.
“You heard me?”
“I am a tree spirit, I listen to everything.”
I remain silent.
“She has been marked.” Her words come out as a statement spoken in dread, not as a curious question.
Tristan stiffens next to me. “No,” he lies. “Our protector bond was severed. You may sense our lingering link.”
“Perhaps, Your Highness. Or perhaps, it is not old but new.”
A cool breeze lifts around us. I try to calm my emotions so the wind will settle down. It’s obvious he doesn’t want her knowing about the rekindling of the bond. Why is that?
Lady Sequoia’s leaves shift in the gentle wind, and her eyes slide to me. “An elemental gargoyle. How interesting.”
Her gaze cascades down on me in a judgmental manner.
“Can you make it rain?”
“I can manipulate and pull energy, not control or force.”
“What a shame,” the tree spirit tsks. “I’m so very thirsty, and the gesture would go a long way with my favor.”
Is she asking for a bribe? If we provide rain, she won’t speak of the bond she senses? She seems annoyed at my thoughts and I scold myself, because she can obviously read them.
My two escorts shift nervously next to me.
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