Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4)

by JK Ensley

  His laughter was boisterous. His whole body seemed to shake with the action. “Do you wish me to hear your apologies now, wee moon? Or shall you take your spanking like a good lass?”

  He popped her bottom with his blade, punctuating his taunt and returning the painful little favor she’d previously bestowed upon him. The stinging blow caused the rumbling growl building in her throat to come out as a hiss.

  She tossed the large sword aside and drew out two, much smaller blades.

  Ah, this feels more natural somehow. Not precise, but much better.

  She didn’t even question her reasoning as she turned to face him, newly armed.

  Brodder laughed again. “And now the maid thinks she can dual wield. Will the jest never end?”

  She bounced on the balls of her feet from one side to the other as she flexed her fingers, adjusting her grasp upon the hilts. She ran toward him. He only smiled. One giant step to her left, one to the right, and she sprang into the air. Flipping once, she cleared his massive height and landed on his back. Her knees squeezing his sides like a vise, those dull blades crossed together in front of him pressing firmly against his exposed throat. She effectively halted his jeers. He drew not a single breath until she jumped down, landing lightly behind him, smiling innocently.

  Jenevier tried to read the strange look on his face. She hadn’t seen this one before.

  Is that fear? Or perhaps… awe?

  “What’s this, now?” Brodder said, taking note of the trained stance she still held and the tiny sparkle now flashing in her black eyes.

  Looking again at the frail little arms he had worried about before, he noticed the long sinewy muscles now dancing just beneath her snow white skin.

  “Is there a secret you wish to share with me, Gealach?” He flashed her a perceptive smile. “Hmm? Is there a bit more to my wee rabbit than meets the eye?”

  She relaxed then and stood up straight, pondering his words, searching vainly within her emptied mind. Finally, she only shrugged her shoulders and stared back at his expectant face.

  “Very well, tiny moon goddess,” he said with a nod. “Let’s find out the truth of it together. Shall we?”

  Jenevier reflexively raised her blades just in time to deflect his crushing blow. Brodder Scot didn’t go easy on her. She couldn’t relax her guard for even a moment. He never managed to touch her again with his bare blade, but he held his own against the tiny woman, as she did him.

  Sweat was dripping painfully into her eyes when she first noticed the vibration and then heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. She held up her hand, palm facing out toward her giant friend, and cocked her head to the side. Soon, he heard the approaching riders as well.

  When Brodder saw the panic growing in her dark eyes, he gently took her tiny hand and tucked her safely behind him.

  He spoke softly over his shoulder as the horsemen came into view. “You set a smile upon your lovely face as you challenge a giant, yet you tremble before the likes of these. Ha!” He snorted out a condescending laugh.

  She pinched his side, hard.

  Brodder gasped. “Dammit, why you wee… I swear. I’ll end up having to tan your backside before the moon rises this night,” he grumbled under his breath.

  Jenevier knew he didn’t mean it. She gave him a quick apologetic kiss, right on the spot she’d only just bruised. He snorted again and shook his head. She didn’t see the little smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.

  When the five horsemen stopped in front of them, she balled the back of his shirt up in her fists, burying her button nose against his spine. His smile only widened.

  “Welcome, Brothers,” he said. “I had expected your arrival at dawn.”

  “Apologies, Sire. We were delayed upon the road by some of the witch’s troops. We made certain those buggers wouldn’t be counted among her growing army.”

  The speaking man dismounted, fist over his heart, bowing low to the giant she was hiding behind. Jenevier peeked from under Brodder’s arm and studied the five men—all dismounted, all bowing, and all armed.

  When they rose, she quickly assessed each visitor’s eyes, inhaling sharply when she looked upon the fourth man. Deceit was playing about in this warrior’s mind. It was painted across his brow as if he were an open book, free for the whole world to read.

  Brodder felt when the tiny woman tensed up behind him. He tried to give her sudden reaction his full attention. It was a hard thing to do, especially since one of his generals was loudly spouting off his report. He wasn’t certain what it was about this strange little creature hiding behind him, but his gut told him not to take anything she did lightly. She was a curious thing, to be sure. For now, and he didn’t know exactly why, but he fully trusted the mysterious milky maiden.

  When General Gráda began to speak, Brodder felt the vibrations of her internal growls against his back. He heard her warning hiss only a second before she stepped out before them, revealing herself.

  All five men stared open mouthed at the colorless little woman with the single black curl hanging down in her face.

  The man farthest to her right inhaled deeply, his breath hitching in his throat. But her eyes, those black snowflake eyes, were fixed upon the fourth warrior.

  Gráda gasped. “Liadan.”

  It sounded a lot like he said LEE-a-den, yet Jenevier knew without knowing, the man had called her gray lady the same way she knew Brodder always called her little moon, even though the words sounded more like wee GAHL-luch.

  She didn’t speak their language, she knew not their tongue. Yet somehow her mind showed her plainly their intent. One thing she did know and for certain, this Gráda held evil in his heart concerning her dear Brodder. And that was one thing she would never stand for. No man would ever bring harm to her gentle giant, he was her whole world.

  Jenevier felt her instinctive defensive impulses kick in, ferociously so.

  Brodder didn’t speak nor did he move. Yet she could feel his curious eyes upon her.

  Seems my giant friend is intent on letting me do as I wish. She was grateful for the trust.

  When she drew nearer to the gaping man, his large hand went to his hilt, his fingers drumming nervously upon it.

  She sniffed the air between them, easily gleaning his true intentions by scent alone. A strange desire to lick this man came over her, an all-consuming feeling. Her mouth watered at the thought.

  “Sire, I wasn’t aware you had such an interesting guest.” Gráda didn’t take his eyes from hers as he spoke. “Did we come at a bad time, Your Grace?”

  His smirk was only half-hearted. She knew he trembled. Even if the others couldn’t see it, she plainly could. When Jenevier was finally close enough to touch the man, Gráda quickly removed his hand from his hilt and bowed low to her, a graceful sweeping gesture.

  “Milady,” he said softly. “Forgive me and my brothers for our lack of respect concerning you. We were not aware of your presence until after we’d reported many atrocious and bloody things within your hearing. Please, accept my sincerest apologies.”

  Jenevier couldn’t help herself. She reached out to touch the fascinating strawberry blond locks falling freely down and around his bent shoulders. She had almost touched the flowing mane when Gráda raised his head, taking her reaching hand in his.

  “Your beauty and enchantment have stolen my heart,” he said. “A rarer thing I have never seen.” He graciously kissed the back of her tattooed hand.

  She took another step, now sniffing the marked flesh his lips had just warmed. Her intent gaze remained fixed upon him.

  Gráda’s eyes went impossibly wide when she casually licked the back of her hand where he’d nervously placed that kiss.

  Jenevier now stood toe to toe with the man. She saw his pulse quicken within his veins when she placed her snowy hands lightly upon his broad chest.

  “Sire? Wh-what’s she doing?” Fear was evident in the warrior’s voice.

  Brodder spoke not.

&nb
sp; Jenevier smiled sweetly as she slid her tiny hands up and locked her fingers behind his neck. She could hear the rapid pounding of his nervous heart. Gently tugging on him, she pulled the tall man down to meet her diminutive height.

  Gráda reflexively closed his eyes as her delicate white lips drew nearer his face. Then… she licked his neck, released him, and took a step back.

  The tiny colorless woman cut her eyes toward Brodder and noticed a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. The remaining horsemen stood completely silent, breathless.

  A playful giggle echoed in her head when she clearly heard the young white-haired warrior’s favorable thoughts concerning her. She enchanted him. This was the same one whose breath had caught when first he looked upon her. The man stood farthest from her to the right, opposite Gráda. She met his gaze, crinkling her nose up at him like a mischievous bunny. He blushed.

  How is it I can hear his thoughts, yet, Brodder cannot hear mine?

  Eyes closed, she tilted her head back, rolling Gráda’s scent over her tongue. Her fingertips tingled wildly. She nearly gagged on the bitter flavor of lies, deceit, and intended betrayal. She narrowed a leveled gaze at the false general standing nervously before her.

  When the tingling turned into a burning sensation, she raised her hands and watched as diamond claws began to emerge, extending slowly from each pale fingertip. She stared at them, puzzled but not scared. Something about these icy looking additions felt comfortable, soothing.

  Her rumbling growl caused the hair on their arms to rise, painfully so. The sparkling, lethal beauty of her ethereal talons extended fully before their mortified stares.

  Brodder grunted out a half-laugh. “If I were you, Lord Gráda, I’d arm myself.”

  The stunned man stumbled back, finally fumbling for his sheathed sword.

  Her single slash easily tore through his leather armor and laid open his heaving chest.

  Jenevier took a step back, watching as the horrified man scrambled to cover his wound while still trying to unsheathe his blade.

  The remaining generals did not move. She found it odd that no one defended the injured man. They held their position, arms to the ready, cautious eyes fixed on their bleeding brother, not her.

  “Perhaps she didn’t like what she tasted within you, Gráda,” Brodder said coolly. “Could it be there’s something you’re trying to hide from me? Something you wish to confess, perhaps? Some dark thing you believed was carefully hidden away, saved for your thoughts alone?”

  “No, Sire. There’s nothing.” Tears flooded his eyes, spilling down his cheeks. His pain was very nearly audible. “This vicious wee demon has poisoned you against me. She’s charmed your mind; cast a devil’s spell over your heart in my regard.”

  “Truly?” Brodder cocked one eyebrow as he spoke. “Aye, and just why would she go and do a thing like that? This child knew not of your existence, good Gráda. Not until you dismounted but a moment ago.”

  “She is no child, Sire,” Gráda argued. “You’re in league with a witch whether you know it or nay.”

  Jenevier narrowed her eyes, growling as she stepped toward the bleeding man filled with lies.

  “No, no, Sire. Call her off. Don’t let her touch me again.” Gráda couldn’t meet her gaze, couldn’t look her in the eye. “Aye, Maiden, go back to your King,” he rasped. “I’ll talk. Swear you’ll turn those raven eyes from me and I’ll tell you anything you wish to know.”

  Brodder made a quick jerking motion with his head. Two of the other men took Gráda’s arms, leading him into the house.

  “Is there another of my trusted few whom you desire, wee Gealach?” He chuckled, giving her a sideways look. “Is there another one you’d like to taste? I’m certain they wouldn’t object.”

  She smiled shyly as she looked to the two remaining warriors. The obvious horror on both their faces almost made her giggle.

  When her eyes lingered briefly upon the first man, the white-haired one whose breath had hitched, whose heart now raced, she saw something that very nearly horrified her… hunger.

  Brodder reached for her hand, leading her toward the house. “I know now why the devil tried to snatch you away from the moon, tried to steal you for himself.” He leaned down close, whispering, “I don’t know why you favor me, Lass. But I’m powerful glad you do.” He squeezed her dainty hand. “This night, my wee darling, this night I promise to serenade you ‘til morn. Your favorite lullaby will greet the dawn still upon my lips, and I’ll sing you awake with the sunrise.”

  She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and skipped on ahead through the door, smiling brightly.

  “Sire, where did you come across such a maid?” Luag asked. “Or is she a maid? Never have I seen her like.”

  “Aye, she’s a gift from the gods, Brother. Fell straight down from heaven, she did.” Brodder chuckled softly. “When my thoughts were continually upon darkness, doom, and the coming war, I heard her crash to the ground.” Happy tears burned the backs of his eyes. “With but one look at the wee thing, the clouds were lifted from my heart and my hope was restored. Can you believe that?”

  “I can,” Finnean mumbled to himself.

  Brodder heard the white warrior’s whispered admission, yet acknowledged it not. But the odd confession did make his chest tighten, caused his stomach to war within him. He wasn’t sure why. It was neither a good feeling, nor was it bad. Just a bit… unsettling.

  When he entered the main room, the good King of Val Hal found his tiny moon standing directly in front of the injured Gráda, her hands clasped casually behind her, rocking from her toes to her heels and back again. Like a cat toying with a terrified mouse.

  His remaining generals cautiously kept their distance.

  “Aye, wee Gealach, perhaps you can give the same close attention to each of our noble guests,” he said. “I’d hate it if they felt slighted in our home. What do you say, Lass? Would you like to have a go at ‘em?”

  She slowly turned to face the remaining four.

  Chapter 7

  Vittorio

  (vit-TOR-ee-oh)

  The magical little realm of Lyra lay in shambles, a ruined disaster.

  Vittorio silently stood by her pool, peering into the pristine waters of Princess Falls.

  “Aye, do ye miss yer sweet lass as much as I?” he whispered upon the breeze. “Do ye miss her wee giggles an’ her glorious smile? Aye…” He sighed wearily. “I miss her as the birds miss the sun, as the flowers miss the rain. I need her just tae breathe. Her absence is a pain I cannae bear.”

  Their secret cove had remained blessedly untouched by Apollyon’s vengeful wrath. Alas, the same could not be said for the rest of layer one.

  The heartbroken Guardian stared, unseeing, into the magical pool where he had first kissed Jenevier. It seemed so long ago now.

  “I shouldnae have sent her running back tae Varick. I should’ve stayed here with her when first she asked it of me. I should’ve held her in my arms, protected her from the world, an’ made love tae her forever.” He wiped away the silent tears. “If ever I’m given a chance such as that again, I wulnae err twice. I’ll make her smile anew with each dawn, for all eternity.”

  Vittorio combed the grassy plains, surprised to find a few signs of life among the Fairfolk.

  Shaemon Green had actually survived the recent apocalypse. He was rebuilding a small grotto when Vittorio happened upon him.

  “Aye, Fairy. It’s good tae see yer scowling face. Proof ye yet live, wee brother.”

  “Well, it’s never good to see a Death Angel,” Shaemon quipped. “Be they living or nay.”

  The weary hearted Guardian couldn’t help but chuckle at the tiny man’s sharp tongue.

  “Hmpf. I wasn’t aware Death Angels could laugh.” He turned up his haughty little nose. “So, what’s it you want from me this time? Still looking for that weird girl Angel?” Shaemon made his voice sound high and strained when he said girl.

  “Aye, as a matter of f
act, I am. Have ye seen someone much like her roaming aboot these parts?”

  “Someone like her, or her?”

  “Wee Fairy man, I’ll tire of yer sarcasm awfully easily this day,” Vittorio warned. “Much quicker than normal.”

  “Very well, then,” he huffed. “No, I haven’t seen her or anyone like her since the day she told me you gifted her with that secret place.” He whispered the last couple of words, cutting his eyes around for nearby itchy ears. “Still haven’t found her, huh?”

  Vittorio didn’t answer. He was lost in fond remembrance of the long forgotten times he had been blessed to share in her secret place.

  “Do you believe in destiny, Death Angel?” Shaemon asked.

  Vittorio’s focus was pulled back to the hard features of the grumpy little man.

  Shaemon Green crossed his arms over his tiny chest. “If you cannot find that strangest of all women, perhaps you’re not meant to. Have you ever thought about it that way?”

  “I did find her,” Vittorio said absently.

  “Ah now, did you? I see. But she’s managed to vanish from you yet again? Seems rather peculiar to me, it does,” he mumbled. “Perhaps she now favors another’s wings. She seemed to me as if she’d have no problem taking care of herself.” He moved some mismatched candles around on his dresser. “Why not just let her be for a while? Hmm? Let her play in the arms of another for a time.” The little wingless Fairy shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps one day she’ll realize she loves you. Or… perhaps one day you’ll realize she doesn’t.”

  Vittorio bent down so he was staring directly into Shaemon’s beady little eyes when he spoke. The little man quit trifling with his eclectic decorations and swallowed hard.

  “Aye, an’ perhaps one day we’ll finally bond our hearts an’ our lives. Perhaps one happy day we’ll live together in her secret place. I love her madly, Shae.” Vittorio’s lips twitched up in a sardonic smile. “Perhaps one day she’ll finally accept my manacle an’ wed me proper.”