Laen stood with his heart pounding in his ears. He wouldn't believe it. His father was just trying to make trouble, to make Corin out to be the devil himself, rather than see his own shortcomings. He would rather see Corin as someone who had led his son away and twisted his heart against him than see the truth. The truth being that Corin had been the only one who had cared if Laen lived or died. The only one who made sure he had enough to eat and somewhere to sleep when he ran away for the hundredth time and still nobody noticed. He had done it because he was his friend, because he cared. He would not have lied to him, not about this. It was too important, too huge.
Corin would never keep something like that from him.
He felt his father’s eyes on him as he considered everything that had made them the friends that they were. Brothers in all but blood.
"Well, then, Laen,” he said, the words mocking him, judging him. “If you are so sure he would never betray you, so certain that he is the man you think he is ... go and ask him."
"What?" Laen asked, his chest so tight with fear and apprehension that he could hardly draw a breath.
"Go!" the king roared. "Go and see your friend and look him in the eyes. Ask him if he will try to take my lands when he takes Auberren's, and then see what you think of him. Come and see me then, and tell me that I was wrong."
Laen stormed from the tent, sending men scattering in their hurry to get out of his way, such was the fury etched into every line of his body as he headed out into the freezing countryside. He leapt onto his horse, thundering towards the castle, determined to confront Corin and hear the truth from his own lips. He would not believe it. Not until he heard it for himself; and so with fear holding his heart in its cold embrace, he went to find his friend.
Chapter 18
Ameena and Jean-Pierre fell in through the door of the inn with sighs of relief. They were frozen to the bone and soaked through. Bram had kept up a punishing pace from the moment they had stepped through the gate, though Ameena hadn’t dared utter a word of complaint in case he sent her back home again. He had been in a foul mood since the moment he had woken that morning and neither of them had dared speak a word to him. Even Inés had been quiet, which was worrying in itself.
Ameena watched as Bram arranged and paid for their accommodation, and felt a pang of guilt. She had not stopped to consider that he would have to pay for her. She would have to figure out some way to repay him as the idea of being in his debt did not sit well.
“Only two rooms,” Bram muttered, looking disgusted at the idea. “You’ll have to share with Inés.”
“Oh, joy,” Ameena muttered, looking around the cosy little building with interest.
“What was that?” he demanded, dark eyes glittering with irritation.
She jumped at the ferocious tone of his voice. “N-nothing,” she stammered, a little taken aback. In all the time they’d spent together, she had not realised that he had such a temper.
“Good.”
They went to their rooms, and Ameena walked in behind Inés, who waved her hand as candles flickered to life all around them and the fire blazed higher in the hearth.
“Neat trick,” Ameena admitted, moving to stand by the fire with relief as Inés chuckled.
“I have my moments.”
Ameena flopped down on the bed with a groan, grimacing as her wet jeans clung to her legs “Please tell me they have a shower?”
There was a snort of amusement as Inés began peeling off her wet clothes. “Of course they have showers!”
“How is that obvious?” Ameena demanded, sitting up on the bed with a scowl. “You said they don’t have electricity, or cars.”
Inés shrugged before heading into the bathroom to fetch a towel. “No,” she said, rubbing her hair dry as she stood by the fire. “Simply put, they do not bring anything into the land that will harm it. No industry, no electricity, no cars, no mobile phones, no internet, no TV.”
Ameena stared at her and then groaned as she realised she’d effectively just stepped back in time. “Crap.”
Inés grinned at her. “You wanted to come.” She disappeared into the bathroom and Ameena heard the reassuring sound of a shower being turned on.
“How is there hot water, then?” she called as she began to remove her own sodden clothes.
“They discovered solar energy centuries before you humans,” Inés said, her voice pitched louder over the sound of the shower. “And magic is used for everything else.”
“What do you mean, ‘us humans’? Surely you’re human, at least?” Ameena asked with a prickle of alarm, as she wondered what it actually meant to be a witch.
There was a dark chuckle as Inés stuck her head around the door. “No. I’m not. At least ... not entirely.”
Ameena considered this idea as Inés showered, finding she was more curious than she cared to admit. She had wondered if witchcraft was something you could learn - or did it involve selling your soul, a deal with the devil? She could well believe Inés capable of such a thing. Waiting until Inés came out wrapped in a towel, she watched as the woman pulled some clean clothes from her bag.
“What did you mean, not entirely?” she asked, frowning and finding herself a little disturbed by the idea. The Fae, at least, had their own lands, but if witches lived side by side with the human race … “What are you, if not human?”
“We come in a variety of flavours,” Inés replied, frowning with irritation as she held up a rumpled top. “But I am Dame Blanche.”
Ameena sat up, staring at her. “What’s that?” she asked, alight with interest now.
Inés walked back to the bathroom and paused in the doorway, widening her eyes and waggling her fingers in a dramatic fashion. “A witch!” she said with a theatrical expression, and slammed the door shut.
Ameena rolled her eyes. “Bat-shit crazy, more like,” she muttered to herself, laughing nonetheless and hearing Inés laughing her head off, too, as she got in the shower.
By the time they got downstairs, Bram was installed at the bar, with Jean-Pierre sitting beside him. Jean-Pierre glanced at Ameena, making a drinking motion with his hand and jerking his head towards Bram with a worried look. There was a bottle in front of him and it would appear that Bram had made a good start on it.
“Bloody hell, Bram, surely we’ve not driven you to drink just yet?” Ameena quipped, trying to make a joke of it but wondering why he looked so depressed. His head turned towards her and she realised her mistake as she saw his eyes were burning with anger.
“You think this a joke?” he demanded, his voice hard and harsh. “There are men out there fighting and dying, and you think to amuse yourself at my expense?”
Ameena shook her head, taken aback by the vehemence of his anger towards her. “No!” she said, feeling wretched that she hadn’t understood. “No, of course not. I didn’t mean ...”
“Have you even seen the weather out there? Don’t you care?” he demanded, his dark eyes glittering now.
Ameena’s temper lit at the unfairness of it. How could she have known what it was he was angry about? It was hardly her fault. “What the hell has the weather got to do with anything?” she demanded, wondering how that was even relevant. “And what crawled up your arse and died?”
Bram got to his feet and glowered down at Ameena. “Why, you foul-mouthed little harpy ...”
“Merde, Bram,” Inés yelled as she came to the bar and stepped between them. “Give the girl a break. She hasn’t got the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
Bram glared at Inés, his fury apparently warring with good sense until he snatched up the bottle, storming past her. “Just leave me alone. All of you!” he snarled, and stalked from the room.
“What the freaking hell was that all about?” Ameena demanded, still a little taken aback that Inés had stood up for her. “What did I say?”
Inés sighed and shook her head, gesturing for them to take a table. “Come on, I’m starving. I’ll explain over dinner.”<
br />
Half an hour later and Ameena was watching in astonishment as Inés piled her plate high for the second time. “Where the bloody hell do you put it, woman?” she demanded. “If I ate like that, I’d be the size of a house.”
Inés shrugged. “My mouth, usually,” she said with a grin. She gestured to Ameena’s and Jean-Pierre’s plates. “Mangez, mangez,” she instructed them, scowling and waving her fork at their plates. “Eat up, for the love of the gods, you’re both too skinny by far. I couldn’t make a bowl of soup from what’s on your bones.”
Ameena snorted and elbowed Jean-Pierre in the ribs. “Watch it, she’ll make mincemeat out of you.”
Jean-Pierre flushed a deep shade of scarlet and Inés chuckled. “I would, too,” she said, giving him a direct look that only increased the depth of his colour.
“So, you’re telling me that the weather in the Fae Lands is connected to the health and emotions of the ruler?” Ameena repeated for the fifth time, still unable to get her head around it.
Inés sighed and looked bored to death. “Oui, that is what I said, several times over now.”
“Freaky.” Ameena picked at a piece of dusty black bread. She’d already eaten way too much, but it was simply delicious. “Embarrassing, too, I would think.”
She looked up to see Inés nodding. “Corin hates it,” she replied before taking another mouthful of dinner and chewing with a contented expression.
“Do you know him well, then?” Jean-Pierre asked, frowning. Ameena sighed inwardly as she felt sure there was an edge to his words. The foolish boy was definitely jealous, but then, who was she to cast stones?
A slow, satisfied smile crept over Inés’ mouth and she nodded. “Oh, well enough,” she said with a smug tone and a look in her eyes that left them in no doubt that she’d like to renew their acquaintance.
“That’s my future brother-in-law you’re talking about,” Jean-Pierre said, as Ameena hoped he’d get the idea that Inés was way out of his league.
Inés snorted, looking disgusted. “Gods, no little human chit could hold Corin. Not for long.” She shook her head, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but you may as well know. He’ll tire of her soon enough, or she simply won’t be able to keep up. He’s a man of … voracious appetites.”
“Don’t you say that!” Jean-Pierre got to his feet, throwing his napkin down on the table in disgust, his face a mask of fury. “Bram said he loves her.”
Inés sat back in her chair and looked up at him, her expression placid. “Bram is a romantic fool. That’s his biggest problem and the reason he’s in the situation he is. Add to that the fact that he’s half in love with your sister himself, by the sounds of things.” She shrugged, turning her attention back to her dinner. “Perhaps Corin will give her to him, when he’s had enough.”
Jean-Pierre gritted his teeth, glaring at her, practically vibrating with fury. He turned to look at Ameena. “Alors, I’m going to bed, before I say something I’ll regret.”
He walked away without another word and Ameena watched as Inés poured herself another glass of wine. “You really are a bitch, aren’t you?” she replied, with no tone of accusation; more curiosity.
Inés smiled and raised her glass, winking at her. “Don’t ever doubt it, chérie.” She returned to her meal and Ameena sat with her in silence for a while.
“So that’s why Bram was so pissy tonight,” she asked as Inés finally pushed her empty plate away. “Because of the storm? This Corin guy, he must be in quite a temper?”
Inés’ face grew serious, her green eyes full of concern. “He’s fighting a war,” she said, her tone low now. “Fighting for his life, for his people, his kingdom. As are many of Bram’s friends. He’s worried for them. He wishes he was with them.” She gave Ameena a sympathetic smile that seemed totally out of character. “Take no notice of him. He’s just lashing out because he feels guilty that he’s not there.”
Ameena had to admit to feeling relieved. She didn’t want to be the reason Bram was in such a foul temper, but in the circumstances, she could certainly understand his worry. The storm was raging outside the little inn and she was extremely grateful to be indoors in the warm. They’d had everything from thunder and lightning to hail and snow, and the temperatures were way below freezing. It didn’t look like the weather would be changing any time soon, though, and they’d be back on their way tomorrow, no matter what.
***
Corin looked down without enthusiasm at the opulent gold throne he sat in. The longing to go home, to turn his back on all of this was consuming him, but he could not forget everything he’d seen.
Gods, but he was tired. He did not want this, any of it. He had no stomach for war, but even if he won on the Field of Kings, it would be far from over. Solastire had been brought to its knees, and that was without even considering King Braed’s kingdom. Mechstrana was by far the more terrifying prospect. Solastire needed time and care and rebuilding, but the people would support him. Mechstrana, though, he would be met with fierce opposition there by men who despised him, who would rather kill him than be ruled by him. He would need Laen’s help to prevail there, to help him understand how to get through to them. On top of that, there was the little problem of trying to unite and rule three different kingdoms, three different races, two of which had never trusted the elves. Often with good reason, to be fair.
He put his head in his hands and wished he was back in his own study. He had no desire to rule the three kingdoms. He had grudgingly accepted that he would be King of Alfheim one day, but even that was a duty, not something he truly desired.
No one had ever asked him what he wanted.
He wanted Claudette. He wanted to hear his home ringing with the sound of their children, lots of children. He wanted Laen and Océane to be left in peace in their own lands, and for Laen to be King of Mechstrana. He wanted them to watch their sons grow up together and raise hell together just as they had done, and then rule their kingdoms side by side as their legacy grew.
Corin sighed, knowing it didn’t matter how much he longed for it. The gods had other plans for him. He heard the door open and was about to yell at whoever came in to get the hell out and leave him alone when he saw who was standing in the doorway. For a moment, he sat and stared in stunned silence. He’d lost his mind for good, surely? His desperate longing must have conjured her up, but the vision didn’t flicker or fade, no matter how he stared.
"Ma belle?” he whispered before leaping up and crossing the room, gathering Claudette in his arms as she ran to him, and held on tight.
He gave her no time to speak or explain before the breath was taken from her lungs as he crushed her in his embrace, his kiss stopping the words at her lips and any possible explanation for her being in this dreadful place.
Corin still could not believe she was truly here despite the familiar feel of her in his arms, despite the warmth of her, the feel of her arms coiled around his neck. Maybe he had wished so hard that the gods had taken pity on him after all, but no ... The gods were never kind. She had travelled here, following in his wake and facing he knew not what dangers. The idea of the things she may have seen, of the fate that could have befallen her made his heart stutter with fear. He thought of the thousands of mangled corpses outside of the castle, of Auberren's men who could still be in hiding, lying in wait - biding their time. His heart froze in his chest, so appalled and terrified at the idea of losing her that he pushed her away from him, despite his relief in having her close, grasping her arms and shouting at her. "What in the name of the gods do you think you are doing?” he demanded, feeling his sanity fraying a little as he considered how to keep her safe here. “I said I would send for you when it was safe." He gave her a shake and repeated his words, quite at a loss for what else to say. "When it was safe, Claudette!"
She laughed, putting her hand up to stroke his cheek, her eyes shining with emotion. "I'm happy to see you too, mon loup."
Corin caught his breath, unsure
whether to rejoice or laugh or cry. "This is not a joke!” he said, his terror making him angrier still. “We are at war, dammit. You could have been murdered, raped, kidnapped ..." His voice broke and she pressed her fingers against his lips to stop him.
"Hush,” she said, her voice low and soothing, her lovely turquoise eyes perfectly calm, full of the certainty of what she was saying. “You needed me. I knew that you did. I could feel it. So I'm here. I'm safe. We are together and that is all that matters. Stop fretting."
He yanked her close again and sighed as he felt her arms tighten around him. Burying his face in her thick, dark hair, he breathed in her familiar scent and wished them both far away from this place. "If I was any kind of a man, I would turn you around and send you straight back home with a thousand men to guard you … but I cannot.” His voice was muffled by her hair, and that was just as well, as he could not keep the emotion from his words. “I cannot send you away from me. I have missed you, so very much and I am so weary, ma belle. I long for peace, for an end to it."
Claudette looked up at him, her face full of concern as she studied his eyes.
“You’ve lost weight,” she observed, her voice full of sorrow. “You’ve not been eating, or sleeping, by the look of you,” she added, shaking her head. “I’ve heard the stories, the reports of what you’ve done.”
Corin waited, wondering if she would demand how he could have done it, how he could have killed in such numbers, but she said nothing, the anguish in her eyes telling him all he needed to know.
They were distracted by the noise of howling and yapping outside the doors, and Claudette looked around, turning back to him with a grin. “Wait there,” she said, running back to the doors and opening them as a bundle of fur barrelled through the opening like a small, hairy rocket.
Cerberus leapt into Corin’s arms, tail wagging, and was panting, whining, and squealing with excitement as he tried to lick every available inch of his master’s face, which was difficult, as he was squirming so hard Corin very nearly dropped him.
The Darkest Night Page 20