The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  The chair creaked again as Laen got to his feet and walked to stand beside him. “Your time will come soon enough,” he said, and Corin knew he understood his sorrow. “I look forward to seeing our children play together.”

  “Yes.” Corin nodded, smiling now, though he wished he wasn’t so impatient. He had so much, he must not be so selfish and greedy to want it all at once. “I do envy you,” he admitted, looking up to meet Laen’s eyes, though he knew he wasn’t revealing anything that Laen didn’t know.

  “Then what are you waiting for, man?” Laen said, laughing now. “Get on with it, you fool. Provide a playmate for our son or daughter, you’re lagging behind!”

  Corin smiled, wishing with all his heart it was that simple. It was what he wanted more than anything, after all. “You forget, Laen,” he said, seeing Laen frown at his rejection of the idea. “Claudette is much younger than Océane, she is not ready for such things.”

  Corin looked away as he saw the pity and understanding in Laen’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said as Corin shrugged.

  “There’s no need,” Corin replied, trying to make light of it. It really was foolish to make such a fuss. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have time enough, but no matter how much he reasoned it away, the longing for it was a hole in his heart. “It’s not as if it will never happen,” he continued, forcing the emotions down as best he could. “But perhaps there will be something of an age gap between our children.” He grinned at Laen. “Yours can babysit!” he said, laughing though he knew Laen could sense his frustration. The big man stepped closer and laid his hand on Corin’s shoulder. Corin gasped as magic flared between them in an instant, sparking along Laen’s arm, sinking into his skin as it wrapped around him. Corin cursed and looked up to see Laen’s eyes darken as he took a step closer.

  The noise of a door opening had them leaping apart as Bram entered the room and rolled his eyes. “Can’t you two keep away from each other for five minutes?”

  “Damn you, Corin!” Laen exclaimed as the spell was broken, looking rattled and rather flushed before he turned on Bram. “And don’t you ever knock?” he demanded. He paced a safe distance away from Corin, running a shaky hand through his hair.

  “I thought the two of you were alone,” Bram replied, his voice amused as he added. “Clearly that is an occasion when I should tread carefully in future. Please forgive me.” He sounded so sincere that Corin burst out laughing at the indignation on Laen’s face. Laen huffed and looked back at Corin.

  “What the devil was that about, anyway?” he grumbled. “Can’t you control yourself yet?”

  Corin shook his head with chagrin, a little embarrassed himself, if truth be told. “If you remember, I did warn you not to touch me,” he replied, giving Laen a look of frustration. He paused, then, grinning. “Though I admit it was worth it to see the look you just gave me.” He gave a theatrical sigh. “Such desire,” he said, stepping closer to Laen, knowing full well that his eyes were alight with devilry. “Perhaps I shall see it again?”

  “Back off,” Laen grumbled, moving further away and holding out a warning finger. “You’ve had all you’re getting.”

  Corin dissolved into laughter as Bram joined him. Laen stalked away and poured himself another drink. “I hate you both,” he muttered before looking back at Bram. “What are you doing here anyway? I thought you went to see Ameena?”

  Bram’s face fell and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I did.”

  Corin shook his head, wiping his eyes as his laughter subsided. “What did you do?”

  There was a tut of annoyance as Bram sat down, arranging the lace cuffs on his shirt sleeves carefully. “It wasn’t my fault!” he exclaimed, gesturing for Laen to pour him a drink, too. “I was trying my best to be thoughtful, but she is without a doubt the rudest, most aggravating woman I have ever met in my life.”

  “What did you do?” Corin demanded once again as he decided that perhaps a very small measure was in order after all. It had been a long day. He chuckled as Laen crossed the room to keep as much distance between them as possible.

  “I just thought that she might like the opportunity to get out of those dreadful clothes that she wears,” Bram replied, looking perplexed. “So I arranged for some items to be delivered to her room.”

  Corin snorted and bit back a smile. “Would I be correct in assuming these items you so generously provided were of a delicate and feminine nature?”

  “Well, obviously,” Bram replied, looking at Corin with a frown. “That’s how women dress here. She stands out like a sore thumb with the best will in the world. What else would I have given her?”

  “It never occurred to you to suppose that she likes the way she looks?” Corin suggested, raising one eyebrow a little. Bram looked back at him, his face blank and uncomprehending.

  “And what exactly happened when she received your generous gift?” Laen asked, giving Corin an amused look. They both knew well enough what a human woman would likely make of everyday wear in the Fae Lands.

  Bram frowned and cleared his throat. “She suggested that … that the items would look better on me than on her,” He scowled and gave a huff of indignation. “Except she was nothing like as polite about it.” Folding his arms, he glared at them as they began to snigger at his expense. “She threw the shoes at my head,” he added in fury, unimpressed as they only laughed harder. “And she’s got bloody good aim, too. Damn near broke my nose,” he added, checking the offended area with his fingertip. He tutted as Corin and Laen tried to rearrange their faces to something bordering on sympathy.

  Corin cleared his throat, realising that, despite his apparent nonchalance, Bram was more serious about the girl than he perhaps knew himself. “So, then, Tully ...”

  “Bram,” Bram corrected.

  Corin waved his hand at him with impatience. “So, then, Bram,” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “When are you planning on making your move?”

  Bram choked on his drink. “With Ameena?” he said, his voice full of alarm. “Are you insane?”

  “No more than usual,” Corin replied, his tone dry. He shook his head, giving Bram a serious look. “Bram, do please listen to me for once in your life. I admit that I don’t know her well, but what I see, I like, and I think perhaps there is something between you?” Bram frowned and looked away from him, confirming Corin’s suspicions. “I see sincerity in her eyes,” he added, meaning it now. He was generally a good judge of character, and there was something about the girl that told him she was kind-hearted and fiercely loyal. “It is obvious from the way she rushed to defend you earlier that she likes you a great deal.” Corin sighed as the alarm in Bram’s expression only deepened, though he understood why. “Ameena is the opposite of everything you look for in a woman,” he said, remembering some of the frankly shocking choices which Bram had made in the past. “Things which have consistently led you into deep water in the past. She is who she is with no frills on, and she’ll take none of your blasted nonsense. For the love of the gods, man, take her to bed and show her what you are made of before someone else does.” Corin got to his feet then, putting down his empty glass and ignoring Bram’s incredulous expression. “And now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I’m going to follow my own advice.”

  Chapter 34

  Corin woke, stretching under the warmth of the covers with a contented sigh. For a moment, he felt a stab of alarm, something was different. He blinked in the dim light, lying still as he tried to figure out what it was, and then he realised it was quiet. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, the rustle of the bedclothes, and nothing else. There were no voices, no screams of pain, no demands for him to wage war … because it had all been done. He was free of it. With a contented sigh of relief, he turned to put his arms about Claudette and then frowned as he found an empty space. Levering himself up on one arm, he looked around the room, noting the soft light of the sun that was making its way around the heavy curtains and illuminating the fact that the room was empty.
He lay back again, disappointed, but smiled as he remembered the previous night.

  He had always thought it would be dull indeed to be faithful and take the same woman to his bed forever, but to his surprise and delight, he was finding the reverse to be true. He had not expected the difference that love and trust could bring to such intimacy, finding that, far from becoming boring, it heightened every touch, every word. He had also never expected that his little county mouse would be so adventurous, or so very bold. Yet she still managed to keep that air of innocence that he had found so appealing right at the start. It was an intoxicating combination. His smile faltered a little as he considered how many other men had begun to notice her. The admiring glances in her direction had not gone unobserved by him, though she seemed oblivious herself, for now, at least. He had been dismayed to realise how very jealous he could be. He had known for some time that Bram was half in love with her, but he, at least, was an honourable man. He would never be so disrespectful as to press his advances upon his friend's fiancée. He could not feel so assured in regards to anyone else.

  His thoughts strayed to Ameena and he wondered whether Bram would take his advice. He was a damn fool if he didn't. Corin chuckled to himself as he considered the merry dance she would lead him. She was a fiery one and no mistake, her temper shone in her eyes along with her passionate nature. She would never take any of Bram's nonsense, but neither would she break his heart. He wondered if Bram had noticed the way she looked at him, and suspected the idiot was clueless. The poor girl would have to take him in hand, more than likely.

  ***

  Bram skulked in the corridors of the vast castle, feeling undeniably irritated. Corin's words the previous night had started him thinking. Mostly he thought that Corin had lost his hold on reality, if not sanity, when he had become king. The power must have addled his brain. The idea of him and Ameena together was so ridiculous it was laughable. Wasn’t it? The trouble was, the wretched girl was always at the back of his mind, too often front and centre. Yet he didn’t know why, couldn’t understand what it was that drew him back to her over and over. She had the worst dress sense of anyone he’d ever come across, and yes, it was shallow, but such things mattered to him. She was stubborn, infuriating, and had a foul mouth, to put it mildly. The thought occurred to him that if Corin had cleared his name, he would be viscount one day. The idea of Ameena as his viscountess made his head spin. It was ridiculous. Yet still he could not stop thinking about her.

  He’d tried to see her again last night, to apologise, though he still wasn’t sure what for, but she’d been asleep. Either that, or ignoring him anyway. So he’d endured a night of growing frustration. The rather overheated thoughts that had troubled him when they had shared a horse had returned with a vengeance, making him fractious and unsure of what to do now. Those thoughts had kept him awake all night and given him a headache.

  Bram had considered just what it might have meant if he’d followed Corin's advice to the letter. The women he usually dallied with were shy and demure, or at least they acted as though they were. Ameena had as much in common with shy and demure as a soldier in a brothel on his first night's leave. The comparison made him snort with amusement, though it wasn't a happy sound. What would it be like, though, to take her to his bed? The blood ran hot in his veins as he considered it, and he cursed under his breath. Damn. Damn Corin. Damn him for putting the idiotic notion in his head, not that it hadn’t been there in the first place. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice the crowd of guards until he was almost on top of them.

  There were five of them and they were circled around a door and taking turns to peer inside. Four of them were Elves, but the biggest was Dark Fae, and he turned to his companion to make a ribald comment that had them all sniggering. Bram frowned and decided to investigate.

  "Well, something seems to have brightened your morning," he said with a pleasant smile, tilting his head at them in enquiry.

  "That it has," the big man snorted. "I've not seen a finer arse than that in all my days, I swear."

  A sudden sense of foreboding made a tremor of unease run down Bram’s spine as he moved closer to the opening and glanced inside.

  He wasn't entirely sure what emotion hit him first, though he would have seconded the big man's comment in a heartbeat. Fury, jealousy, and indignation, however, drove anything from his mind but the desire to put a swift end to the men who had been spying on his lady.

  Before he had a moment to process the thought, he turned and hit the Dark Fae square in his face. There was a satisfying crunching sound as his fist connected with the man's nose and blood exploded in all directions. Bram cursed as pain shot through his fist. Bloody Dark Fae, they all had skulls like the side of a rock face. Nonetheless, the man swayed for a moment before his eyes rolled up in his head. Bram observed that he fell to the floor with surprising grace, considering his height and bulk. The four remaining men looked back at him in shock, and Bram gave them a smile that didn't reach his eyes as recognition dawned on their face.

  "Bram," one of the men said, paling a little as Bram drew his heavy velvet coat to one side to draw their attention to the pistols slung low around his hips.

  Bram bowed to them with a flurry of lace cuffs and then stood once more, daring them to give him the opportunity. "Gentlemen, forgive me, but I’m afraid I take exception to those who spy on young ladies."

  “No offence meant, Bram, truly.” One of the men held up his hands in a placating gesture as they began to back away from him.

  “Then take your companion and leave,” he said, his voice cold and hard. He glanced down to arrange his cuffs and tutted loudly as the men looked back at him in alarm. “And do so quickly,” he added, sounding extremely irritated. “There is blood on my shirt and I am not pleased about it. Get out of my sight before I decide it is your fault and not your slumbering friend’s.”

  There was a flurry of activity as each man grasped hold of a leg or arm and hauled the body of their friend away with all speed.

  Bram returned to the door and pushed it open a little. “Damn you, Ameena,” he swore, his voice soft as his eyes fell once more upon the scene the men had been so absorbed in.

  She had found the men’s indoor training room and was working with a huge leather punch bag that was slung from the ceiling. Wearing a pair of tight black shorts and a small, fitted bra top, there was far more on show than any of the men in this world would have been used to seeing outside the privacy of a bedroom, or a brothel. Bram slipped inside the room, quietly, though he doubted she would have heard if he’d slammed the door, which he very much felt like doing. She was totally focused on the bag.

  With sharp, swift movements, she punched at the leather, the dull thwack belying the strength behind each blow. Bram did not know what to feel as he watched her. On the one hand, he was horrified that a woman should behave like this. Women were soft and fragile, they needed protecting and shielding from the dark side of the world. Ameena looked like she would knock the world on its arse and laugh while she did it. Yet he could not tear his eyes away from her.

  Bram watched with his mouth growing increasingly dry as she hit the bag square on with her knee and then spun, her other leg thrust out and kicking with such force that the bag shuddered as she turned back and hit it once more. He swallowed, his heart beating too fast. She was as elegant as a ballet dancer, albeit a dangerous one. His eyes travelled over her, taking in the slender arms and toned body. She was neither soft nor fragile, she didn’t have the voluptuous curves that usually made desire thrum in his veins. Ameena was hard and yet supple, uncompromising and brave and bloody infuriating, and suddenly there was nothing he wanted more than to take her to bed.

  The thought was not a comfortable one and he felt unaccountably angry with her for stirring his emotions.

  “What the devil are you playing at?” he demanded as that anger made him want to punish her, to lash out for making him want things that made no sense to him.

 
; Ameena stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him in surprise. She was breathing hard with exertion, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on her smooth skin.

  “Just working out,” she replied, smiling at him and pushing that ridiculous blue fringe out of her eyes. “Why? What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

  Bram winced at her expression, irritation stoking his anger further. He stalked towards her, shaking his head in disbelief as he gestured at the way she was dressed.

  “Did you actually walk down the corridors alone ... like that?” he demanded.

  She glanced down at herself and frowned. “Well, I was wearing a T-shirt as well. Why?”

  Bram pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why?” he said, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage. “Corin has just taken this city, Ameena. The place is probably crawling with spies. We have no idea yet who is friend and who is enemy, and on top of that women, do not go around dressed like that here. You are asking for trouble.”

  “I’m what?” Her voice was dangerously quiet, but Bram was past the point of noticing any warning signs.

  “You heard me!” he retorted in fury, feeling actually quite sick as he considered what might have happened to her.

  “Yes,” she agreed, smiling pleasantly and walking towards him. “Yes, I did.”

  He watched her as she moved towards him, her movements as smooth and sinuous as a stalking cat’s, and though it was ludicrous, he felt his blood thrill in his veins. She continued to smile at him, a placid and pleasant expression, but he wasn’t fooled. So when her left arm struck out at him, he dodged with room to spare. The second low jab from her right, though, was swifter and sharper than he could have imagined and knocked the air from his lungs. Before he had time to recover, his feet were swept from beneath him and he landed with an ungainly crash, flat on his back. She sat on him, across his chest, her knees pinning his arms and her hands at his wrists.