Asha's Power (Soul Merge Saga Book 4)

by M. P. A. Hanson

  “Am I dull?” Keenan asked.

  Silver toyed with her answer before speaking it aloud. “Ice-fey halflings are rare; in my three thousand years I have only met a handful of others, and of those less than half were in possession of your level of power and control. Master thieves are common by comparison, yet as a warrior I have little cause to be in contact with them either. Half demons – I have met only one. And those who have my trust are a valuable commodity. As such, I think it safe to deduce that you are many things to me, Keenan, but dull is not one of them.”

  “How romantic,” He teased.

  Silver scoffed, “If you were looking for poetry…”

  “Any fool can spout poetry,” Keenan interjected, “Very few people master it to the point where every move, every breath, ever slash of their blades is living poetry as you have.”

  Silver actually felt… flattered. Though she had definitely heard her fill of prettier compliments, Keenan said them with a sincerity that was entirely disarming.

  Lightning continued to bombard the sky and Silver made an irrational choice.

  “Hold on.” She ordered before hoisting him into the sky.

  Dodging lightning bolts would never become dull, Silver thought as she maneuvered them through the black hearted storm clouds and between the charged bolts of incandescent light. While it had begun as a training exercise for evasive aerial work with her wings as a young woman, she had quickly discovered an addiction to the adrenaline that coursed through her with every thundering boom.

  Keenan seemed to be coping relatively well with being suspended high in the air by just her simple grip on his hand. He was gazing around in awestruck abandon.

  “You’ve made me jealous of your wings.” He said, “To be able to do this at whim must be extraordinary.”

  Silver nodded, and then frowned at the way the gale force winds had facilitated the escape of almost all of her hair from its braid. Making a quick decision, she removed first her mask and then the small leather tie holding what was left of the braid in place before running her fingers through the knots to remove them from her field of vision.

  Ordinarily, flying felt like being free, flying in a storm felt like being wild. The wind whipped against them in a flurry, providing the ultimate test for her wings. The laughing thunder deafened her even as the rain blinded her. All of her senses were consumed by the storm; she laughed and heard nothing.

  Alive. This was what being alive felt like.

  When the storm dissipated over the great moors that marked the centre of the human kingdom, she descended back to the ground, Keenan still clinging to her and smiling like a loon. No doubt the same expression was on her own face.

  So jubilant were they both that when he moved closer to her after landing she thought nothing of it. It wasn’t until his arms locked around her waist, resting on her hips, that her focus started to return. By then it was too late.

  Strong, firm lips settled across her own with a gentleness unexpected of any warrior, pulling away just slightly before they returned slightly harder but no less determined.

  The sense of reason that had started to return after the flight fled instantly. Keenan seemed to fear its return, however, as his hands began to play with the feathers within his reach, pulling her closer to him in the process. He was gentling her, soothing the shock he knew his actions had caused, she realised.

  When he drew back it was clear on her face that he didn’t know what to expect. Amusing as his concern was, Silver quickly laid his fears of a rebuttal to rest, pulling him back towards her as she initiated their second kiss.

  “I,” He began once they came up for air, “have been wanting to do that for a long time.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Self-preservation,” He replied, and it was then that Silver realised they were now kneeling on the ground. Those two small kisses having brought both proud warriors to their knees.

  “I promised to try.” Silver reminded him.

  “I know,” Keenan replied. “But I never wanted to demand something more than you could give.”

  “I am perfectly capable of a simple kiss.” She stood. “If you felt I was inadequate for a more physical relationship then why try now?”

  Keenan laughed, still on his knees. “I never for a moment meant to infer I thought you inadequate.” He was still smiling. “I think quite the opposite, in fact” he rose to one knee as if to stand but remained there.

  That was when her gaze caught on the small box he was holding. He flicked the lid open.

  The world held its breath.

  What a tableau this made, Silver thought idly with the only functioning part of her brain left. Him on his knees, platinum blond hair swept around by the rebellious wind, his scars glinting in the moonlight as those ice-crystal eyes watched her warily. Her, a black-clad wild woman, fresh faced from the storm, frozen in shock and unmistakable fear.

  She wanted to rebuke herself for that thought; the Silver Eyed Wytch no longer felt fear. But it was there, and it wasn’t for herself either.

  “Run.” She whispered. “Run Keenan.”

  That fear for him grew and morphed into the urge to fight, threatening to overtake her. It only grew stronger as she tried to fight it back and Keenan just stayed there. A dagger slid into her palm.

  “Run you idiot.” She repeated. “Just go before—”

  “You won’t do anything to me.” He almost sounded as if he were trying to reassure her, crazy man.

  Silver’s gaze, which had been focused on the perfect weaponised ring in its little velveteen box, moved to his eyes.

  The confidence there was the only thing that could’ve broken her chains of fear.

  Absolute surety that what he was doing was what he wanted. She could trust that and the dedication in his eyes.

  “I’m not running anywhere.” He said. “Silver, would you do me the honour of marrying me?”

  “Why?” Why would he want this with her?

  “Well I admit a master thief isn’t the obvious choice for an ancient elven princess who also happens to be the daughter of a god.” He began in a teasing tone. “I believe I have many amiable qualities that may help my cause. For one thing,” He grabbed her hand. “I have excellent taste in killer jewellery.” He slid the ring onto her finger where it settled perfectly. “Take it off if you don’t want me.” It was a challenge, but one that Silver ignored as she looked more closely at the ring, then at Keenan, then back and forth between the two.

  Now that the fear had passed her thoughts turned calculating.

  “This would make you an even greater target.” She cautioned. “It would be unwise to have our relationship publicly announced with a wedding.”

  “I’m not scared or ashamed to be seen by your side. Nor have I ever been.”

  “I may kill you in a moment of weakness.”

  “I think I’ve proven we can handle any obstacles we come across.”

  Her mind scrambled for reasons to take the ring off. Keenan was actually holding his breath.

  When she finally did touch the ring it was only to stroke the black diamond rose in the centre.

  “You said you’d never tether me.” Silver said cautiously. “What would this be if not the removal of my freedom?”

  Keenan stood, surmising that the danger of her rejection had passed. “To me,” he began slowly. “It means declaring to the world you have my trust, love and unwavering devotion. That anyone who harms you will have to deal with me – providing you haven’t already killed them – and that no matter what I will never part from you.”

  Silver recognised the terms of an alliance when she heard one. Think of this … marriage in that way made it easier to accept. Just a different type of alliance, she counselled herself.

  She didn’t nod, but both of them felt the tension leave her.

  “I never expected this when I agreed to train you.” She informed him. “I never knew you would deal with me on your deathbed, or that you woul
d come to mean so much to me as a result. But I do not regret it.”

  “I love you.” It was the first time he’d actually said those words to her, and before she could reply, he’d cut her off with a kiss.

  His hands tangled in the wildness of her hair, anchoring her to him as they fell through a portal of her making, and back into her room at Dalmorin.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  RIDERS

  Silver was late.

  Asha sat on a tree stump at the edge of D’Arville, waiting with the rest of her expedition. Keir was stumbling around at her feet, still just learning to walk. Romana was engrossed in discussion with Masozi about ice-fey culture and Asha just waited, her eyes taking in everything and nothing all at once.

  When Silver did appear, the first thing Asha noticed was the ring.

  Her face broke into an uncontrollable smile as she launched herself at her aunt, who predictably froze up – tense as a board – under the hug bestowed upon her.

  “Congratulations.” She beamed.

  Silver made a frown of displeasure and too late Asha realised her aunt probably wouldn’t want knowledge of her engagement going public just yet or, indeed, ever.

  “You’re finally here!” She quickly covered her reaction to the engagement.

  “Trouble?” Romana casually guessed.

  “Nothing that couldn’t be handled,” Silver replied, smoothly. “We are ridiculously far from our destination.” She commented. “I suggest we teleport closer to the mountains.”

  Romana nodded, clearly having been about to suggest exactly that. She eyed the portal Silver created with suspicion, but Asha dived through without hesitation.

  It was an untamed land, south of the region where the vast majority of the elves lived, and Asha was incredibly curious as to why Endis had decided to hand it over to the gryphons so easily.

  The sky was obscured by the mists that coated the moors and bogs at the foot of the mountains where they stood. No breeze dared to stir the air as they walked towards the looming mountains.

  Occasionally, Keir would jump out of her arms, run into the bushes, and then return with mischief in his eyes. From this Asha ascertained that Theria must be in the woods, along with other hellhounds. The shadows that passed overhead occasionally told her that Romana’s familiars were ready for betrayal as well.

  Their presence grated on her nerves.

  “Send them away, both of you.” She ordered after fifteen minutes of tense silence. When both her mother and aunt gave her looks of innocence that were so fake as to boarder on ridiculous, she glared. “You both know what I’m talking about. Your familiars are here because neither of you trust the other. Send. Them. Away.”

  “Asha, your naïveté is charming.” Silver replied patronizingly. “Your mother has spent all these years plotting against me with Endis. She would be mad not to use this opportunity.” She patiently explained.

  “Not true.” Romana immediately rebuked. “I was against Endis’ worsening your condition with further captivity. You’re the one who deliberately drew my daughter into a war between gods!”

  Asha sighed as Silver drew a blade and quickly inserted herself between the two quibbling wytch queens.

  “Enough!”

  “I do NOT have a condition.” Silver growled.

  “I said ENOUGH!” Asha yelled.

  The squabbling ceased, birdsong suddenly became incredibly loud.

  Romana opened and closed her mouth yet made no sound. Silver glared.

  “Now that I have your attention,” Asha smirked and both of them gave her death glares. “On this expedition you are not to harm each other. You will not argue with one another and you will not provoke one another. Otherwise the both of you will remain like this until the end of this trip.”

  They both nodded, and by some small miracle Asha felt the familiars leave. Only when she was one hundred percent certain her point had been made did she remove her spell and the chatter of the birds died down to normal levels.

  Neither her mother nor Silver spoke after that, not that she had expected any less. Both were proud enough to take insult at her actions, but neither kept it up long. Within two hours Masozi began a discussion about what strategies would be most useful against a hostile gryphon. Silver immediately informed Romana that should such an incident occur she was to keep the beasts pinned to the ground with the air. To which her mother agreed before joining in about the most effective ways to defend against a gryphon’s toxin laced talons.

  Asha gave a small glance at Keir, it was good to know that they hadn’t even set foot in gryphon territory and yet her expedition was already plotting the murder of her familiar’s kin. Oh well, at least they were no longer plotting to murder each other. That was something.

  At last the soft boggy ground beneath her feet began to give way to the rocky slope of the mountains. Few trees decorated the mostly bare sloped and soon the craggy rock faces became almost impossible to climb, even with their immortal strength and speed. Soon Masozi began to need her wings to fly alongside and Asha realise that Endis had chosen this spot for the gryphons because very few elves would ever attempt such a climb. Wings were the only easy method of arrival or departure from this place.

  Silver did not make the climb any easier, choosing the more direct route over any easier alternative if it would save time; at one time forcing them to cling to the rocky face of a sheer cliff in order to avoid the trek around a ravine.

  “Aunt Silver,” She said at last, exhausted to her bones. “Is there no way I could use my wings?”

  “Your grandmother told you not to.” Silver reminded her. “I would also add that your mother would be incredibly hurt to know you were keeping such a large secret from her.”

  Asha frowned back the way she had come where Masozi and her mother were a few minutes climb behind them. “But surely honestly would be best?”

  “Not always.” Silver replied. “The truth is sometimes more hateful and wicked than the lie. Think carefully before you act. Much as I hate to admit it, Kate would never have told you to hide something from your mother without good reason.”

  “I suppose flying would give us away anyway.” Asha grumbled, surveying the open vista that was a beautiful curse. “We don’t usually have to worry about not being the only ones in the sky.”

  “You should always be vigilant when airborne,” Her aunt corrected automatically. “Assuming yourself to be the only being up there will get you killed.”

  Silently accepting the chastisement, Asha quickly forgot the topic as she was force to concentrate on a difficult section of the cliff.

  Her concentration was shattered along with the quietness around them when Keir erupted in loud squawks. His position, strapped to her back by strips of long cloth, meant his cries almost deafened her.

  “Silence him.” Silver commanded. “We are in no position to encounter an enemy.”

  Asha was clinging to the rocks for dear life, and though she tried to coo to her baby familiar anything else was beyond her doing. Masozi flew towards her just as Keir began to squirm in his bindings.

  “Calm down, little one,” She cooed to him.

  It took minutes of teeth grinding tension before he settled once again. Even then he tugged persistently on Asha’s hair instead. It wasn’t until they reached the top of the cliff and heaved themselves over the ledge that she saw what he had been trying to tell them.

  Seven enormous gryphons were stood waiting for them. And they did not look pleased to receive visitors.

  Knowing she had to do something before Silver could ruin things Asha sank into a deep bow.

  “Peace to your house,” She spoke the traditional elven greeting.

  Silence was the only response she received and for a long tense moment Asha was certain bloodshed was to follow. But she kept her head bowed and her eyes on the floor in front of her.

  “Peace to your house.” The reply was spoken smoothly, and not at all in the way she expected a gryphon to s
ound.

  Raising her head at last, Asha could do nothing but stare at the man before her.

  He was not elven, nor was he human.

  He was fey.

  Dark skinned, with his hair grown long and matted into thick locks, he was like no man she had ever seen before. Brightly coloured ribbons were woven into that matted hair and played a part in holding those magnificent locks away from his face; his clothes were oddly made of light and gauzy fabrics, while the armour over them had been styled to resemble human bones. Braided leather ropes were slung around his waist, neck, wrists and ankles. The overall effect was oddly spine-chilling, and she would bet that the disconcerting effect would only increase when he put the helmet formed like a human skull over his proud face. Beside him stood six other men and women, similarly dressed, though some were clearly marked as fey of the winter court by their pale complexions and hair.

  “Summer fey,” Masozi groaned.

  “Alas, no longer.” The man said with a bow in Masozi’s direction and a few cordial sounding words in the fey language followed.

  Masozi’s dialogue with the fey man was interrupted by a screech from the gryphon to his right. “The youngling with you,” He began after tilting his head to the side as if listening. “My wing-sister wishes to know why he has the aura of an elder.”

  Asha frowned. “It is a long story. For now I shall say that I am a wytch queen and this is my familiar. I woke his egg from dormancy using my powers.”

  There were screeches from all around them as the other gryphons no doubt communicated their opinions on what she had said.

  When the fey at the front held up his hand for silence, even the gryphons obeyed, and Asha wondered inwardly where the balance of power lay in this scenario. She had assumed that the gryphons were in command until that moment, using the fey to communicate as a dragon might use a dragon priest, but what if that relationship was much more fluid here?

  “Why have you come?” The fey asked. “Surely if you believe this elder to be your familiar you would have simply raised him the way you would raise any other of your wytch’s pets.”