Into Evernight: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Fearless Destiny Book 2)
Page 4
“See you soon.”
7
BRETT
The carriage turned toward a pair of imposing black gates made from a shimmering black substance that Brett had never seen before.
“What is that?” he asked Nadia.
“Polished coral and pearl,” she said.
Bloody hell, this king really knew how to set a scene. First the kingdom of granite and tarmac, and now these gates that seemed to rise up forever. They clattered through into a huge courtyard bustling with activity. Everyone was dressed in varying shades of black and silver. The women wore their hair piled high atop their heads and the men wore theirs tied at the nape of their neck.
Thank goodness Baal had dressed him appropriately. He would have looked pretty out of place in dark denim and leathers. As it was, the only part of his uniform that he’d brought with him was Lance—tucked into a sheath at the small of his back.
They’d asked for an emissary. No one had said the emissary couldn’t be Fearless.
As the carriage ground to a halt, a man dressed in some kind of uniform hurried toward them.
Nadia quickly ran her hands though her hair to give it a dishevelled appearance. “Could you?” she indicated his hair.
“Oh, right.” He ruffled his short locks and undid a couple of his shirt buttons, grateful from the reprieve of the collar.
“Thank you.”
The liveried guard pulled open his door. Brett jumped out and offered Nadia his hand to help her out.
She’d barely set her petite foot on the cobbles when a whirlwind of a woman with vibrant red locks and flashing green eyes came barrelling toward them. The guard stepped between them and grabbed the newcomer’s shoulders to hold her back, but she shook him off.
Nadia whimpered, pressing herself against Brett.
He wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders.
“You think you’re clever, do you?” yelled the redhead. “Taking my job. Going behind my back to whisper in Oren’s ear.”
“Please, Venetia, I didn’t. He chose me, he—”
“He would never choose you over me. You conniving little slut!”
“Venetia. Please, calm yourself,” the guard said in a low voice. “We have a guest.”
He cast a glance in Brett’s direction and Venetia met his eyes for the first time. Her mouth snapped closed and she stood taller, running her hand through her hair and licking her lips. Her black silk dress was cinched at the waist and fell to the ground—perfectly decent—aside from the part where someone had run out of material around the top half. The bodice barely covered her nipples, allowing the rest of her breasts to spill over the top like freshly baked dough.
She flicked her hair over her shoulders and ran her hand across those doughy mounds. “I apologise for the substandard entertainment, Emissary. But I’m sure His Majesty will insist that I make it up to you.”
Nadia quivered.
There was nothing Brett hated more than a bully. It brought back childhood memories of being picked on and pushed about. Emerging as Fearless had saved him.
Venetia bared her teeth in Nadia’s direction, her eyes glittering with the promise of pain.
Brett pulled himself up to his full six-foot-six height and looked down his nose at her. “You can tell the king that the entertainment was perfect. In fact, I would like it very much if I could be entertained by Nadia, and no other, throughout my stay here.”
Venetia’s eyes widened a fraction, her mouth turning down slightly. But she composed herself quickly enough, painted a gracious smile on her face, and inclined her head.
“Well, of course,” she said, saccharine sweet. “I was merely concerned for your comfort. We want you to experience the best we have to offer.”
He looked down at Nadia. “Oh believe me, I think I have.”
Venetia bowed. “Well then I’ll let you get settled.” With a final look in Nadia’s direction, she spun on her heel and clipped off toward the palace.
Nadia sagged against him. “Thank you.”
“Well, that was certainly a sight to see,” the guard said.
Brett raised a brow, and the guard chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone put Venetia in her place before. Being the king’s favourite has gone to her head.”
“I have no time for bullies,” Brett said.
The guard’s expression sobered and his tone dropped. “Well, in that case my friend, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
As he followed the guard toward the palace, he couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.
8
“Did you hear that? My memories are still there. There has to be a way to unlock them.”
Baal’s eyes twitched and he averted his gaze before walking down the path and onto the street.
The set of his shoulders … his posture, it was all off. He was hiding something.
I strode to catch up. “Hey, what aren’t you telling me?”
He stopped and turned to face me. “I’m not hiding anything. I just need a moment.”
This was the most disconcerted I’d ever seen the usually unflappable djinn.
He blew out a breath. “I know someone who can help.”
The knot in my stomach eased. “Well that’s good, isn’t it?”
He didn’t crack a smile, and his eyes remained dull.
Cue the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Who is this person?”
“My sister.”
He had a sister? Why was I so surprised? Maybe because he always seemed so self-contained—a serene island in a sea of chaos—until now.
He began to walk, and I fell into step beside him. Anyone watching us would see me walking beside a non-descript male, who they’d find it difficult to describe if asked.
“My sister is special. Unique. She sees the many paths of existence: past, present, and sometimes future. Her mind is a powerful and dangerous thing. It’s a curse that falls upon the first female of every other generation, one we’ve tried to keep hidden for too long. Only a select few are aware of her existence.”
I was in the select few?
He glanced across at me, blinking rapidly as if realising what he’d just said.
I shrugged. “I can keep a secret.”
He nodded.
“Can she help me find my lost memories?”
“If anyone can, she can.”
His reluctance was a palpable force, and for a moment I wavered. This was obviously causing him significant discomfort, was it fair of me to push him to do this?
The alters awoke, eliciting a squirming in my abdomen and a buzz in my ears.
The answer was yes.
I reached for his arm to halt him. “Look, my gut tells me these memories could be important. That Sabriel may prove useful. I appreciate your reservation, but … if you can help me, if you sister can help me, then we need to try.”
He sighed. “I know.”
The darkness in his eyes receded a little, and the corner of his clever mouth kicked up. “I was going to show you my slice of the fifth dimension before we attended the Black Moon Ball, but there’s no harm in an early visit. You’ll have to come as my … guest for now. We can’t risk your identity slipping out. There are only a handful of djinn I would trust with your existence, aside from Erebus and his clan.” He watched me carefully.
“It’s fine, you can say his name, you know. I’m not going to run off screaming.”
“Good to know.” He picked at his cuff. “Have you contacted him?”
I looked away, across the street at the pretty red-brick house with the white picket fence. “No.”
“Kenna …” There was warning in his tone.
“I don’t want to.” And now I sounded like a petulant child. Crap.
“You’re connected, whether you like it or not.”
“I know. But I don’t have to use that connection, do I?”
He shook his head and glanced heavenward as if despairing of me.
“He wouldn’t … would he?”
Baal arched a brow.
“Look, can we just drop it? When can we go see your sister?”
He held out his arms and my stupid heart did a little skip. “How about right now?”
_____
We remained in the eye of his storm long enough for me to get a good old whiff of Baal’s yummy scent, long enough for me to remind myself not to be a fool. I’d almost thrown my heart at Erebus when he’d shown me a little interest, a little kindness. God, how gullible had I been? It made me cringe to think about it. He must have thought I was desperate. The poor disabled Fearless craving a little affection. How could I have missed it? All I’d seen was a hero willing to sacrifice himself for the good of mankind.
He was still a hero, but the rose-tinted spectacles were off—or at least I hoped they were, because the thoughts and feelings I was having for Baal were too close to what I’d felt for Erebus. Maybe I’d developed a damsel complex, because here he was, helping me, showing interest, blah blah blah, and was I reading more into it than there was?
This was business.
He’d help me. I’d take the throne and the fifth dimension would find peace. We’d all win.
His arms tightened around my waist, and did I imagine his lips brush the top of my head?
But then we were landing and the air stopped spinning.
I stepped out of his embrace a little too quickly and almost lost my balance on the pebbles underfoot.
His hand shot out to grab my elbow and steady me.
“Thanks.”
He raised an enquiring brow. “In a hurry?”
I shrugged. “You’re too hot.”
His lips twitched. “I am, am I?”
“I mean. I was hot. I mean your body is hot, oh fuck!”
His laughter was a low rumble that teased my ears. “Come on. Let me introduce you to my family.”
We were on a pebble beach, the sea a serene blanket of blue at our backs, the air crisp and laced with a salty tang that hit the back of my throat with every breath, washing away his scent and clearing my head.
He was already striding off toward the sand dunes dotted with shells and dried sea flora. I followed as quickly as I could. We crested the rise into a pretty little market town. Djinn of all colours, shapes, and sizes milled about: buying, selling, laughing, and singing. Yep, music was in the air, and it was glorious.
“What is this place?”
“This is my domain.”
“Domain? Like your own this market?”
“I am Overlord of these lands.”
I stared at him. Of course I’d known he was a big-wig in the djinn world, I wouldn’t have agreed to him mentoring me otherwise, but Overlord? One of the Big Thirteen? That was news to me.
“Close your mouth Kenna, before I’m tempted to pop something in it.”
I snapped my mouth closed, glaring at him indignantly.
He swiped a grape from a nearby stall and held it out to me enquiringly before popping it in his mouth and chewing with obvious gusto.
“The fruit is sweet, the people are happy, and I intend to keep it that way. My goal is to keep them safe.”
The vendor offered him a small basket of fruit that Baal graciously declined, inclining his head in thanks. People bowed, some rushed over to him, pressing goods into his hands that he, once again, politely declined. Eyes raked over me, only to be averted when I looked back. No one asked who the strange djinn tagging along behind their Overlord was.
Progress through the market was painfully slow, and a lesser person would probably have become impatient, ushering the djinn civilians out of his way—I couldn’t imagine Erebus conversing so naturally and amiably with the market folk. In all truth, they probably would have parted like butter to let him pass.
We came to a complete halt at a stall selling silk scarves and silver bangles. My eyes were drawn to a gorgeous aqua scarf, stitched with tiny shimmering silver stars. I reached for it, then dropped my hand. I had no money to pay the vendor. Instead I tuned in to Baal’s conversation, shutting out the buzz of the market.
“How long ago did it dock?” Baal asked the stall owner.
“A day, no more, and no one has set foot on land my lord. My sons keep watch at the cove.”
Baal inclined his head. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“I sent a message to the mansion, but it was not received.”
Baal’s jaw tightened. “I will make sure it is looked into, Sarab. Your loyalty will be rewarded.”
The man, Sarab, held up his chubby hands, his green eyes wide in his green tinged face. “I wish for no reward my lord, your blessing is enough. Your protection is enough.” He bowed, and Baal placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Always my friend.”
Sarab looked up, his eyes misting. “Thank you.”
His gaze strayed past Baal to land on me. I offered him a smile. He blinked and averted his gaze.
Baal’s lips tightened. He patted the man and then withdrew his hand.
“Come, we should get up to the mansion.”
Was he speaking to me now? But he was already on the move, weaving his way through the crowd, his head up, eyes on his destination. This time there was no stopping to speak to anyone, and as if sensing the shift in his mood, the market goers went about their business, moving subtly out of his way.
A moment ago he’d been perfectly happy to mingle, so what had changed? The set of his shoulders and the whiteness of his knuckles told me to hold my tongue.
We came out of the market into the village proper. Djinn wandered up and down the cobbled streets, and the smell of freshly baked bread and exotic spices hung heavy in the air. Children played some strange game with pebbles and chalk which involved plenty of hopping. Women sat outside their homes, chattering while chopping vegetables or mending garments.
It was a quaint place, and my heart lifted with joy, until one of the women caught my eye. A warm smile began to bloom on her lips but froze as her eyes strayed to Baal. The smile dropped into a frown, and she averted her gaze, whispering to her companion who glanced my way before gathering her basket and heading into her home.
“Come.” Baal took my elbow and led me up the street toward a line of carriages pulled slender by horses, parked outside a row of tiny shops. He rapped on the first one we came to, and a man, sporting a scarf wrapped around his head, leaned down from the driver’s seat. One look at Baal and he was all nods and smiles.
Baal opened the carriage door and ushered me inside.
I climbed up and shuffled across the wooden seat until I was pressed up against the far window. A sea breeze blew in, teasing my silver blonde hair with salty fingers.
Baal took the seat opposite me and we were off, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves a soothing accompaniment to the sway of the carriage.
I tapped his knee. “Okay, what the heck is going on?”
Baal raised a brow.
“Don’t give me that. You were all smiles and hellos and stuff, but after speaking to that Sarab guy you went all tense. And why isn’t anyone actually looking at me?”
Baal pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I was hoping to avoid this, but it seems that my people have mistaken you for my sharmuta.”
“What the heck is that?”
“My … woman.”
“Woman?”
He exhaled through his nose. “My whore.”
My cheeks heated. “What? Why didn’t you say something? Tell them that I’m your … your friend?”
A low chuckle. “Overlords do not have female friends. They have mothers, sisters, wives, and whores.”
“Okay, so they think I’m your whore, so that means they can’t look at me?”
“It is more that they are disappointed in me, I think.”
“Because you have a whore?”
“Yes. Sharmuta are revered among the nobility. They are seen as a sign of virility and wealth, even for those with wives. I am the only Overlord who does not keep them, and up until today my people have respected me for it. Now I am just like all the rest.”
He sounded despondent.
“But… You knew this would happen if you brought me here?”
“Yes. I knew they would assume you were mine. I just hoped they wouldn’t judge. I guess I was wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Once you have the throne they’ll understand who you truly are. In the meantime, this ruse will allow us to move throughout the dimension together without question.”
“As your sharmuta?” Dammit, my cheeks were heating again.
His lips curved in a slow smile. “Don’t worry Kenna, it will be in name only.”
I swallowed. “I know that!”
“Good.” He sobered. “Because we’re almost there.”
I’d been so caught up in becoming a whore that I’d missed the scenery. The view from the window was of a mansion rising out of a canopy of trees. The road curved smoothly, taking us ever closer to the magnificent structure, and then we were lost in the greenery of the tiny forest that surrounded the residence.
Baal leaned forward.
“Before we get there, I should warn you. My mother is a bitch.”
I stared at him unblinking. “What?”
He made a sound of exasperation. “I forget that your human ways are different to ours, that you aren’t so blunt. My mother—step-mother—is a conniving bitch who wishes to usurp my rule. Do not trust her, no matter how saccharine she may seem.”
I nodded. “Fine. Okay. Let’s just get this over with and get back to Lindrealm.”
Baal popped open the door, jumped out, and offered me his hand. “And remember, you’re mine.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
The crunch of gravel filled the air, followed by a syrupy voice.
“Baal, my darling boy.”
Let the games begin.
_____
“Oh my. Oh my how lovely!” Baal’s mother gushed over me, fingering my hair and tweaking my clothes with her plump fingers.
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