The Eidolon

  Emil lifted his right hand and slowly removed the scarf he always wore on his face. She kept her expression even while her heart pounded. After all this time imagining how he looked, wondering if she’d be repulsed or attracted. Scars crisscrossed the lower part of his cheeks. One tugged at his lower lip, making his mouth look as though it gaped constantly. Veronica’s breath faltered as she lifted her hand to trace it. It felt warm and alive underneath her hand. Emil remained still, his eyes not leaving her for a moment.

  “Kartal,” Veronica said. “I thought it a story to breed fear into the hearts of your enemies. I told it to my orphans as a bedtime story.”

  He closed his eyes, but remained perfectly still under her touch. “Durad exaggerated, but the basic tales are true. I had to be a symbol of strength.”

  “Astonishing,” she whispered. She rather liked his scars. Particularly how he seemed to enjoy her exploration of them. He’d have the Ton swooning in fear should he remove that scarf in public. Next to the polished perfection of the gentleman, he would appear savage. Veronica smiled at the thought. She’d swoon too. For different reasons.

  A breeze lifted and the forgotten mask she held fluttered to the ground.

  Veronica leaned down and picked it up. “Why did you give me this?”

  Emil’s eyes flew open, bright and full of a kind of playfulness she’d never seen in them. He fingered the mask. “This is yours. From the masque. When I nearly kissed you. I thought—”

  He smiled, the motion stretching his scars. Veronica found it to be the very opposite of the smiles she saw every day—so cultured, perfect and empty. Emil’s was dark, mischief curling the corners.

  He said, “I fell a bit in love with you that night. I thought about kissing you ever since, especially when I discovered who you really were. And every moment we spent during our week together about The Hırsız. When you married Durad, I thought I’d missed my chance at happiness.”

  “Happiness doesn’t exist,” she whispered.

  Emil tilted his head to the side, considering. He still hadn’t moved. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He leaned closer and whispered, “What about Melilot? You wouldn’t dare deceive those sweet little children?”

  She looked into his familiar eyes and a dozen memories flooded her—Emil tucking an extra blanket about her when he noticed her shudder, Emil constantly keeping a warm cup of the tisane on hand in case she felt any pain, Emil kissing her on the forehead after revealing how much he understood about her. Emil rescuing her from the Duke, when no one had ever been able to do so. Warmth, fiery and pleasant, rushed through her senses.

  Emil seized her face in his strong, warm hands and kissed her. A current ran the length of her body, reminding her of the beam from her Tesla-ray—bright and powerful. But instead of numbing her, it did the exact opposite. She felt everything. From the way his leg brushed hers, to the way his hands felt as he threaded his fingers through her hair and pressed her even closer to him. There was darkness in the way he held her, an urgency, not gentle.

  Though Veronica hadn’t been kissed before, the feelings rushing through her ignited a need. She pressed her good hand to his wide chest and ran it along his shoulders, as though she could borrow his strength with her touch.

  Emil spun her around and pressed her against the parapet wall. Veronica simply held on to him as tightly as she could. After a few moments, she felt nothing but his hands as they held her firmly in place, and his mouth on hers.

  Yes, a kiss like this would have changed everything.

  A door slammed somewhere in the distance. Emil set her down suddenly and stepped back. “I—.” He shrugged, as though sheepish.

  Veronica grabbed him and pulled him into her room. She shut the window and pinned him against the wall, her non-metal hand on his throat. His eyes widened and he looked strong and unbelievably handsome there under her command. She liked his face without the scarf. She could see how it might have been handsome and symmetrical at some point, but now, with the story of his survival written on it, it was truly beautiful.

  She raised a brow. “You may think you have the upper hand, Kartal, but simply remember that is only because I allow you to do so. I liked that kiss and I don’t believe I told you to stop.”

  Chapter Forty

  Another week later

  Veronica prepared to address her people for the first time. Emil watched as she strapped on her weapons, lifting her skirts to buckle one on each lovely ankle. He’d done his best to prepare her for what he knew of the politics of Sombor, but he hadn’t been here in a while and there were many holes yet to fill.

  Upon learning of the Princess’ nocturnal activities, Sombor’s initial hesitation turned to acceptance. Very few of their citizens hadn’t lost a relative to the factories before Durad’s rule. She bolstered their strength—a strength that had already faded to memory, though it’d only been a few years since the wars. They were falling in love with her. She represented all that Somborians were: proud, forward thinking, rebellious.

  Veronica seemed to feel something she couldn’t quite embrace yet. Emil noticed a shadow still veiled her eyes, but here and there, it lifted for a few moments. When he delivered a gift from yet another Somborian admirer, thanking her what she’d done for all of them. For her bravery. Whenever one of the many younger maids swept her a curtsey with tears in their eyes.

  And, of course, whenever Emil kissed her. Or she kissed him, more often than he expected. Much to his delight. Not in public, of course. They were discreet. Sombor still mourned Durad. In spite of his fall in popularity toward the end of his reign, he was more loved now than he’d ever been. He died saving their new princess. Not one of them could conceive of a more heroic death.

  Once she arrived, Matilda hadn’t made any bones about urging Veronica to accept her people. Emil had sent Rosseau right back for her after successfully installing Veronica in the palace. The small, capable companion became Emil’s unexpected ally and proved to be the princess’s biggest supporter.

  Emil snatched one of Veronica’s knives and reached forward. Taking her ankle in his hand, he slid the knife into the sheath. He held on for several seconds longer while he watched her watch him.

  When he straightened up, she grabbed his collar and pulled him toward her. With the other hand, she reached up and tore his scarf from his face. “I don’t want you to hide who you are. A princess needs a man by her side that others fear.” She then kissed the scars on the right side of his face and continued on the left. Her lips were warm and soft. He couldn’t breathe.

  “Once they know who I am, people will want to test the famous Kartal.”

  Veronica smiled, a glint in her eye. She took his face in her hands, her metal fingers cool but gentle, and pressed her lips on his, hard. She lingered for several moments until heat flared between them. Just as he was about to take charge until she pleaded for mercy, she broke it off and whispered, “Are you questioning your princess, Emil?”

  Oh, but she was far too confident now. Emil caught her up his arms and sat on the nearby couch, settling her onto his lap. He met her eyes, sending her such a look that she didn’t say a word. A measure of fear and then anticipation lit her features. Emil leaned forward until their mouths were inches apart and they shared the same air. She didn’t move and neither did he, but he could hear her breath quickening.

  He waited until he could stand it no longer and then closed the gap and kissed her over and over her until she sagged into him.

  When he broke them apart, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he could feel her smile. Neither of them deserved such happiness, yet somehow they’d found it, even in the embers of such destruction and loss. No one could take this moment from them. Not even justice or fate or whomever dictated the role of a man’s life.

  She said softly, “And so you see, my dears, that when night is darkest, when you have gone without even the barest of necessities, you can yet be brave. If you do, you may not have a
dress covered with glittering stones, but you can still shine just as brightly….”

  “Melilot,” he said.

  “A story in exchange for another.” She smiled at the memory.

  “Are you saying I’m like a glittering dress?”

  She laughed. “Not in the least. But as a metaphor, it’s not far off. Things are looking pretty bright.”

  Veronica kissed him, her smile meeting his. Her touch burned him, as it always did. But instead of leaving behind scars, it propelled him forward, away from his fears and uncertainties, like The Hırsız from an oncoming storm.

  Epilogue

  Several months later

  Alec tossed his sword onto his bed and growled at Critchton. “Be gone, old man, I’ve no need of your help this night.”

  “You’ve no valet, my Lord,” Critchton said with one slow blink. He didn’t move otherwise, his stiff posture suggesting he wouldn’t be dissuaded. The wrinkles on his face sagged in an even, orderly fashion, as though he’d arranged them just so.

  Alec hated the old man. Ever since he’d obeyed his master’s orders to lock Veronica in a closet for an entire day as a punishment for sub-standard academic work. He’d refused Alec’s pleas with a heart of stone. He was carved from the same cold, inflexible granite as the Duke, with the same slippery mind.

  Alec ripped off his cravat, the delicate, expensive silk tearing as he did so. Critchton flinched at the sound. Alec stalked back toward his bed and picked up his blade. With a few, swift movements, he cut off his waistcoat and fine lawn shirt. Now down to his undershirts, he spread out his arms and said, “There. Why should I need a valet when this can get the job done in half the time?” He flourished his sword and then pointed it at the old butler.

  Critchton bowed and then left, unnaturally fast for his age.

  Finally. Alec splashed his face with water and began the routine of washing up. Curse his stubborn sister, she’d escaped with that hulking bodyguard, Marcovic. Off to Sombor, leaving behind a royal mess.

  One he’d have to deal with, yet again.

  Victoria was not happy, and she’d let Alec know it. After her midnight visit from Kartal, she’d appointed one of her newest chief advisors to investigate Bridges and The Grave. Alec would likely have to help. In secret of course.

  By the by, who knew the silent, socially awkward Marcovic hid a secret as big as that? Hero, indeed. More likely a collection of tall tales spun to gather in the masses like the finest threads, until they were so tightly woven into a blanket of adoration, they couldn’t escape. Still, Alec had to admire the man. Valid reputation or no, he saved Veronica’s orphans and Veronica herself.

  Alec dried his face with a soft towel and flung himself into a chair beside the fire. He could barely feel the heat, even though his skin was now ice-cold. In spite of his sister’s safe ending, he hated that everything had been blown wide open. He hated having to expose the Dragonfly Order to Grillett and Veronica. He didn’t think they suspected anything more than they appeared to be—a group of talented swordsmen—but he couldn’t be sure. Veronica had become adept at hiding her thoughts and feelings, even from him.

  Without bothering to don a shirt or jacket, he strode out of his room and straight outside the townhouse. The chill, damp, night air must have been frosty on his skin but he felt little. His feet led him to the barn. He went straight to the family carriage Veronica had monopolized often enough. Where he intended to go in this state, he couldn’t say.

  To his surprise, the carriage door opened, and Marcovic emerged and then helped Veronica down. Kartal’s robes swirled about him, the darkness seeking him out and embracing him. Veronica wore the same monstrous ensemble she had as the Eidolon—those hideous pants, billowy shirt and top hat. No self-respecting member of the Order would wear such a thing. He might have to have a word with her about that. In any case, she should be dressed in full mourning, no matter that Sombor didn’t have such customs. Marcovic remained in the shadows, though his body angled toward Veronica’s protectively.

  Alec rolled his eyes. Heavens, that didn’t take long. Durad’s funeral had only been, what, three weeks ago?

  “Why are you here?” he asked, using the droll tone he always reserved for his sister. He knew it irritated her beyond measure. There had to be some fun in this part he played.

  Veronica took a hesitant step toward him, then closed the remaining distance and pulled him in for a firm hug. He stiffened. The few times they’d embraced could all be accounted for within the past few months. Alec was still unused to such affection between them.

  After a moment, he lifted his arms and patted her back awkwardly.

  She laughed and swatted him. “You can’t possibly be angry with me, brother. If anyone has cause to be so, it’s me! How long have you played the fool, the drunkard, the gamer to me? Your own sister?” The joy in Veronica’s eyes dimmed and she punched him in the shoulder with her non-metal hand.

  Alec knew about the transplant, of course. Dr. Hoch couldn’t keep it a secret long. Poor sod loved to brag, but only to Alec thank heavens.

  “I can’t believe you had me so fooled. A gambler indeed. Think on this year we missed out on! Why couldn’t you speak plainly with me, Alec?” Veronica now tilted her head, blinking up at him with that naive, endearing kind of hope he loved. After all this time, how could she still do so? That she hadn’t given up on him was some kind of absurd miracle.

  But he’d never given in to her before, and he didn’t plan on doing so now. She couldn’t know, mustn’t suspect how deep his involvement ran. While she dammed a current in the stream, he had to stop a waterfall. He braced himself, yet again, to lie to her. Yet another thing he hated this day.

  “Peanut, darling, what would we have to discuss? You worked with Dr. Hoch on your little operation, whilst I trained at fencing with some of my associates.” Alec sauntered over and plucked Marcovic’s sword from his scabbard. Marcovic didn’t look pleased.

  “We had a bit of a lark, pitting ourselves against each other. It became a type of obsession, until we became the very best at Whites. Not many knew. It was our own private matter. Except for the wagers placed on the side—you know, who would win, etcetera. That racket funded the whole thing.” He flourished his blade, then tossed it up and caught it again. “I won, of course.”

  Alec hoped just enough of his story rang with truth. He couldn’t have her suspecting any more. His heart ached to tell her. How many years had he kept his plans a secret, kept her at a safe distance? But still, she’d nearly died. Twice! Quite the protector he’d turned out to be.

  Veronica remained silent for a while. Oddly, he enjoyed the play of emotion across her features. She’d spent so long concealing it with a vacant mask. While he didn’t relish the pain he caused, at least he could see her as she really was.

  With a sigh, Veronica said, “If that’s the story you wish to tell me, I will tell you in return that I believe you.” She stepped forward and placed both strong hands, one hot and one cool, on his arms. “When you’re ready, brother, there’s a place with us in Sombor. By my side where you can fight freely, openly.”

  He didn’t answer. What could he say? The further away from him, the safer she was? If she knew, if he admitted they both were in danger, Veronica would talk him into leaving with her—and Alec would let her do so.

  Veronica kissed him on the cheek. “You needn’t be alone any more. But I won’t force you, even though I quite likely could.” She flexed her metal hand and flashed him a wicked grin. “If not with this, my Tesla-ray is fully charged.”

  He sniffed. “I quite like your new hand. Pretty soon the papers will get hold of the Eidolon story and you will no longer be featured in Defunct Debutantes. Lady Ambrose will be de-throned and all the young ladies will be wanting an appendage removed.”

  Veronica and Marcovic laughed. Kartal stepped into the light, as though his distance from his princess made him nervous. It was the first time Alec had seen him without his scarf and the sh
ock of it nearly made him flinch. Kartal’s strong, brown face told a story of survival and courage, with dozens of small scars crisscrossing the lower half. If it’d been handsome once, Alec couldn’t tell. Now it was simply fierce and because of that, it held a kind of beauty even he could admire.

  As a match for Veronica, a legendary hero might do. He liked the idea that Kartal would be protecting her. Even if she might possess a little skill on her own. That hand was a good start.

  Alec replaced his sword on the wall. “Marcovic, my good fellow, show that face in public and the men will follow suit and cut themselves shaving. Now those are movements I can get behind. Iron-fisted women. Deformed men. London will be so much more interesting!”

  His sister smiled that half-smile he’d seen before. She recognized what he was doing. This time though, that glimmer of hope in her eyes didn’t fade. “Like I said, brother, when you’re ready. Always.” She blew him a kiss with her mechanical hand and re-entered the steam carriage. Hale appeared out of nowhere and started the thing up.

  As they disappeared into the night, Alec shivered.

  # # #

  Note from the author: Thank you for reading my book! If you enjoyed it, would you please leave a review at your favorite retailer? Also, if you’d like to read another book of mine, check out Elemental, a YA fantasy suspense.

  About the Author:

  Tiffany Dominguez has a degree in Entrepreneurial Business and runs a house flipping company with her husband. She’s loved to read ever since she was old enough to drag a red wagon to the library. Tiffany has been writing for ten years and won an award for her short story “The Healer” from Writer’s Digest.

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  Please enjoy this sample of Elemental…

  Elemental

  Chapter One: Eva

  He was coming.

  Eva Sarantos sensed him. Not his voice, but his powerful, arrogant aura. Even with hundreds of students at the School of Elements, Luke Huntington’s aura shouted louder than all of them put together. It’d always been that way for her. Ever since that Earth Elem class freshman year, when he’d settled his angry gaze on her, they’d fought constantly. She didn’t understand why he couldn’t leave her alone, or why her temper flared so easily in his presence. Eva took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Their unavoidable proximity created an enmity that made her shoulders stiffen with fear, and all her nerve endings hum with tension. Her friend Melia claimed she could cure Eva’s unwilling obsession with a few of her inventions, but Eva knew better. She’d tried everything in the last three years to tune out Luke’s aura, but nothing succeeded.