Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4)

by JK Ensley

  His breath hitched.

  “It is an almost maddening thing,” she said. “Every cell within me is screaming out to taste your lips. It takes every ounce of will to deny what my very essence is demanding.”

  “I know, Jenevier,” he said with a smile. “I can sense you, remember? And my desire matches your own.” He glanced back up at the gathered Angels. “But this is certainly not the time or the place for us to give in to our—”

  His words were cut off by the light touch of her warm lips upon his cheek. He heard Daichi’s growls and saw the brilliant smile that lit up Tenshi’s tear-stained face.

  Looking back down into her loving eyes, Apollyon’s tears were no longer containable. Gone was his shame. His pride, willingly surrendered. These powerful tears poured freely down his perfect face. Jenevier gave up trying to catch them all before they fell. Using her sleeve, she tenderly wiped them away.

  Raphael bumped Gabriel with his elbow. “Did you think you would ever live to see the day?”

  “No. Never,” Gabriel said.

  Jenevier placed her tiny hands on his cold, wet cheeks. “Vindicus, I know not when I will see you again. Or if I will see you again—”

  His lips gently pressed against hers—a sweet, gentle little kiss that ceased her words. He could deny his heart no longer. He was so tender, so loving. When they slowly parted, she smiled… a radiant, gloriously happy smile that reached all the way up to her snowflake eyes. Apollyon was lost in her once more, and forever.

  With their foreheads resting together, she gained the strength she so desperately needed.

  Sighing, she turned to face the others. “Very well, then.” She remained firmly within Apollyon’s protective embrace. “I am ready now, Daichi. I trust you.”

  She saw the light sparkle back to life in his angelic blue eyes. Joy replaced the fear that had been growing there. He slowly approached her, blade in hand.

  “She wishes me to hold her,” Apollyon said.

  “Of course she does.” Daichi’s words were kind, his gaze never leaving hers. “She needs your strength, dark brother. We are her whole world… all the messed up parts of my glorious little Angel.”

  “Wait.” She held up one trembling finger. “Wait just a moment more.” She took a shaky breath, steadying herself. “Tell me. How is it this seraph blade is once again imbued with my essence? How was it retrieved from my baby moon?”

  Daichi smiled. “Your baby moon is angry still—having its rare glory removed. Alas, we are Angels, Naga. It was all in a day’s work.”

  And with those words, Daichi plunged Uriel’s glowing blade deep within her racing heart.

  Chapter 42

  Drostan

  (DRAH-stun)

  She sat there, staring blindly at the sparkling glitter Lala had painted on her toenails.

  It’s hard to believe she’s already two, Naga, Nilakanta whispered. When I watch that little Angel play… I realize how swift human years can pass.

  She snorted out a half laugh. “Yeah, it’s easy to forget… when you’re like us. Time seems to move at a snail’s pace. You look in the mirror ten years from now, and it is the same as it was yesterday. Same old curls, same old eyes, same old everything.”

  Not the same old heart, Naga. Much in you has changed. It just doesn’t show in your reflection. But it’s there, all the same.

  The Dragon’s words caused her thoughts to drift back a few years. Back to a time before she had changed. Back to a time when she could still love. Back before all the calluses had encased her fragile heart.

  *****

  Brian burst into the council chamber, wide-eyed and breathless.

  “I finally found Drostan,” he said, gasping. “And it’s worse than we thought.” He stopped panting and took a deep breath. “He is holed up down in the kitchen and we cannot get to him.”

  “Why the hell not?” Finnean asked.

  Brian looked toward the white warrior. “He has hostages. And he said he will kill one every hour until he is granted a private audience with the King.”

  “Not bloody likely,” Finnean grumbled.

  Gráda’s blatant smirk was almost comical. “So… you didn’t actually find Drostan. He found us. Just came strolling back in on his own, did he? And now he wants to play.”

  No one spoke.

  Gráda stood. “Very well, then. I’ll go play with him,” he said, hand firmly gripping the hilt of his sword.

  “Oh no you will not,” Jenevier said, jumping to her feet, placing herself between Gráda and the door.

  “Aww… my tiny Angel is worried about me.” He smiled devilishly. “Have you finally come to realize you wed the wrong warrior?” Gráda glanced over at Finnean. “Why don’t you go down and have a chat with Drostan, Brother?” He slid his arm around Jenevier’s waist. “While me and this lovely creature, here, start making up for so much lost time.” He winked down at her.

  Finnean only chuckled softly. “You could never satisfy her, Brother.” He stood then and adjusted his tunic. “Hell, she’s almost more than I can handle… and I have been handling her for years.”

  Jenevier only rolled her eyes. “I will be the one going to talk to Drostan. I am the reason he cannot seem to move past his grief. He blames me for Valencia—how he lost her. And on some level, he holds me responsible for the loss of his beloved family.” She looked to her husband. “If you go, you will only end up crossing blades with an old friend.” She poked Gráda in the chest. “And if you go, you will only make things worse… and enjoy yourself in the process.”

  He pretended to be shocked. “Who? Me? How is it you think I would make things worse?” He smiled at her and winked.

  She only shook her head as she turned to go. “Gráda, The Pot Stirrer… that should be engraved upon your breastplate.”

  Gráda chuckled.

  “Hold, Lass,” the King said.

  She turned to face Brodder. “Will you not give me your blessing in this, Father?”

  He returned her level stare. “You know the answer to that, minus my words. I am no coward, Princess. I will see to my own affairs. If Drostan wishes words with me, then I shall grant his wish.”

  Jenevier grabbed his arm as he reached for the door. “Never would I name you coward, Father. To do so would be the most blatant lie under heaven. But do not buck me in this. I did not ask for permission, neither do I require any. You are the King of this great land. I would be nothing more than an extremely poor substitute. Your value will always outweigh mine. Be logical, Father. I will not goad Drostan in this. I will be humble and beg his forgiveness. If things are ever to be well between the two of you… angry words spoken this day will never be forgotten.”

  “Or forgiven,” Luag added. “Trust Gealach in this, Milord. Our troubled brother needs a gentler hand than you or I possess. His anger burns hottest toward the Princess. Give her the chance to douse his flame.”

  The King didn’t turn to face his trusted few as he spoke. “Is the council in agreement on this?”

  Approving words and nods encircled the table.

  “She will not be alone, Sire,” Eògan said as he came to stand behind her. “I will be waiting, listening just outside the door. If anyone wishes to stop me…” He lightly yanked on one of her curls. “…then just try.”

  *****

  Jenevier chuckled to herself when she remembered the determined glint in her fiery-haired brother’s eye. He looked like a blushing giant boy, yes. Alas, every man in that room would have been hard pressed to even slow his steps, much less stop him entirely.

  Why does your mind recall such pain today, Naga?

  “Eh… you know me, Dragon. Sometimes I just like to wallow in it.”

  Yes, Little Fire… I know.

  Snuggling into her favorite spot between his shoulder blades, she lay back against his strong neck and closed her eyes, unable to fight the tears any longer.

  There was nothing you could have done, tiny Angel. What was meant to happen… ha
ppened.

  “I know, Dragon,” she whispered. “I know.”

  *****

  Eògan gave her tiny hand a squeeze just before she went through the kitchen door. They exchanged a knowing nod.

  When the door banged shut, the terrified cooks let out startled yelps.

  Drostan snorted, grinning with only one side of his mouth. “And just what are you doing here, demon whore? Do you now claim yourself to be King of this realm?”

  “I do not. Never would I claim thusly.”

  “Then why are you here? I asked to speak with the King and only the King.”

  She looked into each scared woman’s teary eyes as she spoke. “Come now, Drostan. You know as well as I. If Brodder saw what it is I now look upon… he would have drawn his blade, ended you before your first word could be formed. Now, let these honorable ladies go. They hold no guilt where you and I are concerned.”

  He pressed the knife against the neck of the woman trapped in his embrace. “And just why would I do that?”

  “Because you were once a valiant man, Lord Drostan. You stood shoulder to shoulder with the greatest among your kind. You claimed sole dominion over a highly skilled band of assassins and your King trusted you enough to let you do so. Have you fallen so far that your pride could handle such a thing as having your great King see you hiding behind a skirt?”

  The man’s shoulders stiffened, a wicked smile twisted the corners of his mouth as he slowly moved his arm, releasing his trembling captive. She immediately fled, the other women close on her heels through the door.

  Jenevier did not turn to witness their departure, but she noted the absence of it banging shut behind them. Drostan paid the open door no mind as he sighed loudly, tossing the large butcher knife beside the sink with an unnerving clatter. He leaned heavily against that same counter, head bowed, eyes closed.

  “Why are you here?”

  Jenevier walked around to his side of the large cutting table before she answered. “I thought… perhaps you and I could sort this whole thing out. Together, just the two of us.” She leaned back against the table, bracing the edge before hoisting herself up on it. “If we leave this room as friends, all will be forgotten. Not a soul within this kingdom will hold ill toward you.”

  “I do not care if they do,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, I believe you do care, good Drostan. Who wouldn’t? What sane man wants to be whispered about in every corner? You are better than that, Brother. You know you are.”

  He reluctantly sat down on the table beside her, exhaling wearily. “I hate you. I cannot explain it and neither can I help it. Yet… I hate you wholly.”

  “I know you do.” She sighed. “And I know it’s my fault. I should never have spoken so callously to you concerning the horrors you have lived through.” She turned to look at him. “Forgive me, Brother. Give me a chance to make amends. You once cared enough about me to save me from Valencia. You hid me in a cave and worried over me. Please, help me go back to the way things were between us before my cruel words broke your noble heart. Give me a chance, Drostan. Grant me but one opportunity to make things right by you.”

  He didn’t meet her gaze, only slowly shook his head. “I don’t know how.” He paused. “And… I don’t want to. Hating you is all I have left. Don’t take away the only thing I have left to live for. When I’m getting dressed in the morning, I fill my mind with ways to kill you. When I’m overseeing the kitchen, I imagine dropping poison in your food.” He turned to face her then. “Have you not ever noticed how you are never served first, how an individual plate has never been placed in front of you?”

  She could only stare at him, unspeaking, confused… scared.

  He snorted out a laugh. “No, of course you haven’t. You are so spoiled, so conceited. You are content to let the fiercest warrior in this kingdom wait on you hand and foot, like a mere servant boy. Why do you think he always serves himself and then you? Hmm? Why do you think it is he feeds you dessert from both your plates, only after he lets you feed him first? And why do you think he makes your damn tea every single morning? Going to the trouble of plucking the petals and steeping the leaves all himself? And how could you be so blind as not to notice how Finnean always takes the first sip from your goblet? Why do you think he does that? Hmm? Why?”

  She stared at him in horror. “B-becau-because he loves me.”

  “Yes, he does. Loves you enough to put his life on the line at every single meal, every single day of your life.” He snorted. “And you didn’t even have a clue. Probably never even thanked him for it, have you?” He looked away then, shaking his head. “But he should know better.”

  She swallowed hard but didn’t speak, didn’t dare interrupt him.

  “That snow warrior and I were once inseparable. We have saved each other’s lives more times than I can even count.” He smiled then. “He’s the one that introduced me to my beautiful Laurin, even stood by my side at our wedding. Did you know my first son was named Finnean?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I love that man more than I do myself… or even my King.” He turned back to look at her through moistening eyes. “And he is the very reason you yet live. I would never harm him, never. He is the reason you were not poisoned with your first bite. And he is the only reason I do not steal into your room when he leaves on a hunt. Do you know how easy it would be to slice your colorless throat whilst you slept?” He waited a few heartbeats to let his words sink in. “I have watched you, Princess. Many mornings I have stood by your bed and watched you sleep. Knowing that my dearest friend would have to live through the pain of losing his beloved wife—that’s the only thing that stilled my blade. You yet draw breath because of Finnean and Finnean alone. Never ask me again for my forgiveness. You do not deserve it and you will never receive it. Just be thankful you wed the only guardian angel you will ever need in this realm. Be thankful for what you have… never ask for more.”

  Jenevier waited, the silence between them becoming ever more uncomfortable.

  “I am glad you love my husband.”

  She sniffed, tears dripping onto her skirt, leaving dark circles sprinkled across the amethyst material. She inhaled deeply, fidgeting with the shoulder-trembling action. It caused her crios to jingle lightly. A couple of the gemstone laden strands slid off her lap and clinked softly against the smooth wooden table.

  The delicate noise pulled Drostan’s attention. He cut his eyes toward the dainty silver teardrops hanging from her waist. Yet, he did not speak.

  “He is my whole world,” she whispered. “Yes, I take everything he does for granted. I cannot help it. I walk about daily, simply in awe that he cherishes me, that he cares enough to keep me near. If he wishes to eat from my plate and drink from my cup—I will be unreservedly grateful for the attention, any attention. I may not have known why he was doing it, but do not be mistaken, Drostan. I notice everything the man does. I orbit his every action. I do not breathe unless he does. As I said… he is my whole world. And if anything ever happened to that beautiful man…” She wiped her flooding cheeks. “…I could not go on. The loss of him, of my heart, of my sun and stars… it would utterly destroy me. Not even a shadow of the woman I am or once was would remain.” She glanced sideways at his stern profile. “I fear… the universe could not contain the creature I would become—if that godforsaken day were to ever to be recorded within the annals of time. If there remains such a thing as mercy, then I pray my days cease before the beating of his valiant heart… or mercy will be known no more.”

  “Why?” Drostan hissed, jumping down from the table and facing her proper. “Why could you not just give in to Gráda’s advances? That man has the talent to easily bed any woman he so desires. And I know he wants you. Hell, the whole kingdom knows the truth in that. Why could you not lay with him, just once? Why? Why couldn’t you simply betray your husband?”

  “Wha-what are you—”

  “You play with him, hold hands with him, laugh at all his jests. He has escorted you
to the market hundreds of times. Carried your packages, taken you hunting, and showered you with ungodly amounts of adoration through the years. Gráda pines for your attention and you grant him all that he desires… save a kiss. Why?”

  “Why? Gráda is my beloved brother. I would nev—”

  “If you had but kissed that honored man, simply kissed him, it would have been enough to break Finnean’s heart… cause him to turn from you.” He took a step closer to her. “I have waited for years. Watching from the shadows, I followed you always. I listened as good Gráda whispered sweet temptations in your ear, words that countless women would’ve come to blows over. Yet you only giggle and turn away. Why? Why couldn’t you just say… yes?”

  She stared at him, shocked and very nearly speechless. “I could never do thus, never. I will die before I betray my beloved.”

  “Very well, then.” He took the last step separating them, their noses were nearly touching. “If you will not betray him by choice, perhaps his taste for you will turn sour. Perhaps your beloved Finnean will find you too disgusting to love… once he hears that another man has entered you.”

  She furrowed her brow, his dark words not fully registering before he seized her wrists. Jenevier screamed from shock as much as fear when Drostan leaned against her, pushing her back, pinning her down atop the table.

  The next few heartbeats played out with blinding speed, but the black scene had forever been seared upon her destroyed heart.

  Brodder was the first one through the open door, not Eògan. He grabbed the maddened man, tearing him off his precious daughter, slinging him across the kitchen. When Drostan slammed against the counter, the King scooped a trembling Jenevier up in his massive arms.

  She could remember hearing her cries turning to screams as she watched the enraged warrior lunge toward Brodder’s back, butcher knife raised in the air. It was as if the whole thing played out in slow motion, a million miles away. She remembered her screams… then the sickening sound of metal boring through flesh, scraping against bone.