Royal & Ruin (Gifts of the Gods Book 1)

by Josie Gold

  My legs wrapped around his hips. I felt frantic. Like I wanted to consume him. Crawl inside him so I could remain close forever.

  His hand trailed down my hip, then down my thigh. It snuck beneath my nightgown and slowly pulled it up, exposing my legs.

  “Fennion,” I moaned. But when I tried to yank off his shirt, he caught my hands.

  “No, love,” he said against my lips.

  Stung, humiliated, I instantly pulled away. My hands left his body and my mouth left his. I tried to push him off, but he pinned my wrists down. I struggled beneath him, hating the tears pricking at my eyes.

  “Harken,” his voice was guttural and tense, “when I finally have you, it will be in a bed with silk sheets.”

  I stilled. He leaned down and kissed the skin above my left breast. Where the swampling’s mouth had been. I quivered.

  “When I finally have you,” he promised huskily, “it will be when our wounds have fully healed. So that I can devour you properly.”

  My toes curled. He lazily kissed up my chest until he got to my face. He kissed my chin, both cheeks, my eyelids. By the time he kissed my lips, I was nearly begging.

  We kissed slower, but the desperation was still there, along with the promise of something new.

  Reluctantly, we pulled away from each other. He turned away as we both got dressed, and it made me smile fondly. He kissed my cheek once before we went down the stairs.

  Junnipa was making breakfast and when she saw our faces, she beamed widely at us. Like she knew. Fennion winked at me and heat flickered in my belly.

  But, we couldn’t think about silk and promises right now.

  Foxxel was up and helping Cloval in the kitchen. He looked like an entirely different man now. His white hair was lustrous and his caramel eyes were bright and never left Cloval’s face. Cloval pretended not to notice his stare as she cut her herbs, but the corner of her wrinkled mouth was upturned.

  We thanked our hosts and Foxxel. Foxxel vowed that he would never hesitate to answer our call or host us. Cloval and Junnipa wished us luck and kissed our cheeks.

  Our new friends watched from Cloval’s cottage as we made our way back to the forest. A strange melancholy filled me. Being here reminded me of visiting my Grandma’s village. Of long days playing with Larka in the woods, trying to find star-fawns and manticores. The nights I spent listening to Grandma’s stories about the Old Gods, or about Father’s childhood.

  I suddenly yearned for Grandma’s creaking voice and comforting food. I hadn’t let myself miss her for years, but something had lifted from me last night. As if speaking about Larka had invited in old feelings, both good and bad.

  Fennion and I were quiet as we walked through the Forest of Fell. Absurdly, I felt shy. But every time I snuck a glance at Fennion, he was smiling dopily.

  We passed by a stream where we saw a mother winged-fox and her kits. We hid behind a tree and watched as long as we could, marveling at their fiery coats and black feathered wings. But eventually, we had to move on.

  Once we came to a clearing, Fennion put two fingers in his mouth and whistled twice, the sound shrill and echoing. After a few minutes, we heard the boom of great wings.

  Fluffy swept high above us, calling to us joyfully.

  It was time to return to the Library and find Destruction's Gloves.

  13

  HARKEN

  The first leg of the journey was awkward. I allowed myself to lean fully against Fennion, relishing his scent of cedar and the tight muscles of his arms as they enfolded me against him.

  But I was tongue-tied. Suddenly unsure how to behave or speak to him.

  Should I be sweet and simpering now that we were… whatever we were?

  I settled for silence. Fennion picked up the conversation for me, telling me more about his childhood, or about his favorite books. He would point out the different species of birds flying nearby, like the persnickety blue thorn-jays and the lovely silvery mourning-owls. I would ask questions here and there to keep the conversation going, but I didn’t add anything.

  Fennion seemed aware of my uncertainty. He would dip his head closer to mine, his chestnut hair brushing my neck. He would peer at me curiously, then capture a quick kiss.

  The kissing part was easy. We could barely keep our hands off each other, the tension was a tight, physical string connecting me to him. We tugged and tugged at it, giving each other sly caresses that had us tensing and swearing.

  I kept waiting to feel ashamed for telling Fennion about Larka. But it never came. Seeing her die over and over while the swampling fed on me opened a rusty door inside my chest. After years of refusing to even say Larka’s name, I was suddenly desperate to talk about her, to share her existence with another person.

  Fennion’s eyes had been so filled with kindness and understanding. It hurt every inch of me to finally reveal the truth. But when he held me close, I felt that thing inside me unwind just a little. It was still there, a cold and gray beast curled up against my heart, but it felt less suffocating.

  When I woke up in Fennion’s arms that morning, I knew what I wanted. What I had always wanted. Hating Fennion had been easy months ago. He was arrogant and irritating and he reminded me so much of Larka. He had the same irreverent sense of humor, the same adoration for magic and books. It didn’t help that I had always found him devastatingly handsome.

  But now, all those things, from his cheeky comments to his light green eyes, made me feel wild with desire.

  The sun had started to set on the first day of the journey home. The sky was pink and orange, turning Fluffy’s reflective scales a lovely salmon shade. Fennion spotted a clearing in the Forest of Fell and directed Fluffy to descend.

  I adored flying. I loved the thrill of looking below, being part of the sky, the wind whipping at my skin. It reminded me of my magic, what it felt like when I submitted to it. Blissful and exhilarating. But this felt safer and far less painful than manifesting my magic. I hoped that when we returned, Fennion would take me on flying trips regularly.

  The thought made me pause as I built our tent. We hadn’t discussed what we would do after we found the Gloves and stopped the murderer. We hadn’t even defined what we were to each other. Friends? Lovers?

  I could feel Fennion sneaking glances at me as he prepared the fire. But I could no longer meet his eyes. After Fennion made camp, Fluffy caught salmon for us. Fennion skinned it and roasted the flesh. I sat across from him on a log, watching him closely.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” I asked stiffly. He smiled, the flames reflected in his eyes.

  “The Queen insisted that her children had survival skills. Every year since I was ten I went on camping trips with a few trusted servants. I always loved them, but they were lonely.”

  “Lonely?”

  He shrugged while spearing another piece of fish onto a sharp stick.

  “The servants were loyal. They kept me alive and taught me survival skills, but they were not true companions.”

  My heart felt like someone had reached inside and squeezed. I wondered if Fennion ever had any true friends. The guests who came to his parties were willing to have a good time with him, but that was all. I thought about Larka, who had been in my life so briefly, but she had made everything brighter and enchanting.

  After Fennion finished roasting the fish, he beckoned me over. I stood and made my way over to him, my steps shuffling. He grinned up at me, then suddenly grabbed my wrist and yanked me down. Across his lap. For a moment I was too stunned to do anything. He took the opportunity to wrap strong arms around me, rooting me against him.

  “What are you doing?” I tried for imperious, but it came out squeaking. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against my neck. I clutched his arms.

  “You’ve been as fearful and timid as a mouse all day,” he murmured, “what happened to my spitting cobra of a woman, who could strike a mortal down with a single cold stare?”

  “I’m not sure how to act around you anymo
re,” I admitted as I pushed my fingers into his thick hair. He frowned.

  “Like yourself, perhaps?”

  “But,” I scrambled for the right words, “I’m unpleasant. I say awful things. Don’t you want someone sweet?”

  He grimaced, like the idea offended him.

  “Harken, love,” he said, tone chastising, “I like you as you are. I want you to be your usual, terrifying self. Just kiss me often to lessen the blow.”

  He grabbed my chin and tugged my face to his. He kissed me teasingly, refusing to deepen the kiss even after I responded vigorously. I laced my fingers through his hair and pulled. He groaned gutturally, finally kissing me deeper.

  “I promised you silk,” he panted against my mouth. My mouth left his and traced up his face to his ear. I licked the shell of his ear slowly, smirking when he shivered beneath me.

  “I’ll hold you to that promise,” I whispered, then detangled myself from his lap. I hurried to my seat before he could catch me. I laughed at his slack face and glistening eyes.

  That night, we lay entangled together in the tent. I faced away from Fennion, tucked tightly to him with his arms around my waist. I fell asleep to the sensation of his soft breathing against my scalp.

  FENNION

  Keeping my hands off Harken was proving to be impossible. Every chance I got I was pawing at her. Squeezing her hips as we rode on Fluffy. Nuzzling into her buoyant hair. Trailing a finger down her spine and relishing her trembles.

  Pressing her against a tree and kissing her hard, one of her legs hitched around my hips.

  But I was determined to keep my promise. I wanted Harken in my bed for our first time, with sparkling wine and all the time in the world to please her properly—without the looming threat of the murderer using the Gloves.

  The first day of our trip back home was odd. She was so quiet. I worried she regretted kissing me. Imagine my relief when she told me she was worried that she was too mean.

  Gods, I adored her.

  On the second night of our journey home, she laid with her head on my chest as we stared up at the stars. I pointed out all the constellations I knew.

  “Who do you think is killing the Librarians?” Harken suddenly asked, “Do you still think it’s Highlar?”

  “No,” I admitted, “he’s hateful, but he’s no murderer.”

  Harken snorted ruefully.

  “It’s most likely a Vestian that has snuck into the kingdom,” I decided. Harken lifted her head and cocked it quizzically.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, look at all we’ve discovered so far. The Vestian in the cell said Kartheyans are thieves. And then the swampling said the Gloves were once in Vestan, but were now in Kartheya. They are probably trying to steal it back.”

  Harken’s expression turned thoughtful.

  “Kartheya would be enraged if Vestan stole from them,” she said slowly. I stiffened.

  “Are you excusing their crimes? They killed Telsey.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Harken said sharply, “and no, I am not excusing them. I’m just saying that in all of this, Kartheya is not innocent. For whatever reason, someone stole the Gloves from Vestan decades ago and we are still at war.”

  “We’ve always been at war with Vestan,” I scoffed.

  “And neither side has been willing to try for peace,” she scowled.

  We fell silent. She was right, of course. Kartheya stole from Vestan, likely because they feared what the Vestians would do with the Gloves. But still, wars have broken out for less.

  Gradually, the silence became easier. I caressed Harken’s hair, hoping she could feel my silent apology. She softened against me, tucking her face into my chest. I noticed the sleeve of her green shirt had ridden up, exposing her forearm.

  “Are you going to retake the Librarian vow once we catch the murderer?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual. She didn’t answer for some time and I worried I had made her angry.

  “I want to help the commoner children,” she said finally. I nodded, understanding. The revelation about Larka explained so much about her and made my feelings for her even stronger.

  “But, that infernal building has grown on me,” she continued grudgingly. I chuckled deeply.

  “What will you do after we stop the murderer?” Harken asked. Her tone was strange. Blasé, but beneath there was an undercurrent of worry.

  “Oh, I suppose I’ll go back to hosting revels,” I drawled. Harken tilted her head up. Her brow was knit and her lips were pinched.

  “Fennion,” she chided, “you can do more than that. You know you can.”

  The urge to laugh her off, to continue the charade of the merry fool was so tempting.

  “You can do anything you want,” Harken continued, “I’ll help.”

  I wanted to ask. I wanted to ask her how she felt about me. What we were. But my words clogged my throat. I was too much of a coward to ask. What if kissing me was only temporary for Harken? A distraction and nothing more?

  So I kept quiet. We went to our tent and laid down beside each other. And although we held each other close, I felt a distance between us born of unsaid words.

  HARKEN

  We were on the third day of the journey and we would be back in the Royal City by the evening. We spent the flight discussing our plans for capturing the murderer.

  “First, we need to find the Gloves before they do,” Fennion said.

  “Do you think the murderer already knows they are in the Library?”

  “It’s possible,” Fennion gritted his teeth, “and that’s why they are killing the Librarians. Trying to get information from them on where in the Library they are kept, perhaps?”

  “I’m not sure the Librarians would even know about the Gloves,” I shook my head, still trying to make sense of the motive.

  Something still wasn’t adding up for me. I could understand why someone would want the Gloves. You could take over all of Vivus with a weapon like that. But why kill the Librarians? I knew the two were connected, but I still questioned how.

  “Once we find the Gloves, we will lure the murderer to us and take them down,” Fennion said fiercely.

  “The two of us against them?” I said doubtfully, shuddering at the memory of all the dried-out corpses.

  Fennion grinned cockily, but I could see the anxiety in his eyes.

  “I think we can take him,” he said. “We killed a swampling. I’m sure Kylarn will help us too.”

  I nodded, but my stomach was in knots. I had never really thought about how we would stop the murderer, I was too focused on trying to find the Gloves. And this plan seemed reckless, but I didn’t have any other ideas. Plus, I didn’t want to be the one to shoot down Fennion’s plan. I would no longer be a person in his life that made him feel useless.

  I was pondering all the questions that were still unanswered when I heard an odd whistling sound. Something shot up at us from the Forest of Fell. Fluffy shrieked and dove away. Fennion held me tight and shouted at Fluffy to get us away.

  But we were shot at again. I got a better look at what was being hurled at us. It was a net. This time, the net tangled itself into Fluffy’s second set of wings.

  Before we could act, we began to plummet to the earth.

  “Pull up!” Fennion screamed. Fluffy roared. He used his other set of wings to slow down our fall, but falling was inevitable.

  “Hold on,” he shouted in my ear. I gripped the arms around me tight and closed my eyes as the ground came rushing at us.

  Fluffy barreled into trees and skidded across the ground, bellowing in pain. He wrapped his free wings around us, protecting us as we crashed through the forest. Eventually, we came to a stop. Fluffy whimpered in pain and I felt my eyes fill with tears for him.

  “Are you alright?” Fennion said too loudly in my ear, clutching at my face. I nodded, dazed. He exhaled hard in relief.

  Fluffy detracted his wings. We both stiffened and put our hands in the air.


  We were surrounded by a group of six men and women. They wore light, skin-tight leather armor that was a mottled green and brown to blend with the foliage. Their faces were also painted brown and green. They had large, curved blades attached to their backs, the metal was indigo and lustrous; no metal I knew of. Their hair was shades of brown, eyes light, and skin pale gold.

  Vestians.

  And they were pointing arrows right at us.

  14

  HARKEN

  Beneath us, Fluffy’s scales started to heat up. The silver scales on his throat burned from yellow to red to the bright blue like the center of a flame. He opened his jaws and a ball of blue fire exploded from him, aimed at the Vestians.

  Two of the Vestians threw up their hands and manifested shields of black and blue magic that deflected the fire. A second later an arrow whizzed by Fennion’s face, grazing his cheek and causing it to leak blood.

  “Tell the beast to cease fire or it’ll be your eye next.”

  The Vestians took our weapons and bags and then tied our hands behind our backs. They ensnared Fluffy’s second set of wings and tied him to a tree. Smoke leaked from between Fluffy’s huge sharp teeth with every furious breath. His violet eyes never left us as we were led away.

  The Vestians marched us through the woods. Fennion walked ahead of me and every time he turned his head to look at me, he was slapped across the face or punched in the stomach.

  “Just listen to them,” I whispered.

  The Vestian gripping my arm shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the forest floor. I landed hard on my stomach, gagging as the air was knocked out of me. Above me, I heard Fennion trying to fight to get to me. The Vestian that shoved me looked down at me with his lip curled and his eyes glittering. He looked to be about 30 summers old, with one black eye and one pale blue eye. I didn’t like the look in his mismatched eyes as he stared at me struggling to my feet.