Blind Spirit (Scourge Survivor Series Book 4)

by JL Madore

  He shook his head and water droplets sprayed free from his shaggy black hair. “The mistake ye made was imagining yer father as the wolf when there are creatures far more dangerous and vile. Brought up that way, ye couldna comprehend true evil. When it came lookin’ for ye, ye had no way to protect yourself.”

  “Because I am a rabbit.”

  Samuel gathered my hands in his. “What happened was not yer fault. I’ll tell ye that until I’m blue in the face if ye need to hear it. No matter how angry ye are at yourself or how ashamed, sometimes evil is too powerful to fight.”

  The pain in his gaze made me realize the wounds of Abaddon and the Scourge ran deep for both of us. “When ye haven’t the strength to hold yerself up, let me keep watch for the wolves while ye lick yer wounds. And if yer heart shatters, let it shatter on me and I’ll help pick up the pieces.”

  “But that is my point. I wish to slay my own dragons, to stand on my own, and fight my own battles.”

  “And ye will, sometimes. Other times ye’ll need help. I like to think we can stand together. I’ll catch ye when ye fall, and when I’m bleedin’,” he gestured to me tending to his injuries, “ye’ll maybe take the time to ease my suffering.”

  Oh, how I wished we could stand together. Forever.

  When tears threatened, he reached behind my head and pulled my mouth to his. He had the most luscious lips, sweet silk, tugging me closer.

  He groaned deep in his throat and leaned back against the rim of the basin, pulling me in on top of him. A swell of wet heat saturated the towel I wore as bathwater rose and splashed to the floor. I laughed and he repositioned me, sweeping his tongue against my lips.

  Despite his split lip, kissing Samuel was delicious.

  Tightening his embrace, he gave and demanded in that meeting of mouths. I ran my hands gently up his battered ribs, feeling all the heavy bones beneath his skin. A stinging pleasure went off deep inside me, hungering for more of him.

  We went for a long while, his hands roaming over my towel-covered back, smoothing my hair, cupping the curve of my backside, neither of us inclined to stop.

  Too soon, a shiver wracked its way up my spine.

  “Damn, yer frozen. The bath has gone cold.” Samuel pulled back, his eyes hidden beneath his bruises, his lips pink and swollen, but not from his beating. He rubbed his palms down the goose bumps on my arms and frowned. “Up ye get and shed that wet towel. I dinnae save yer life to have ye fall to pneumonia.”

  Getting out of the tub without hurting him was considerably more trouble than getting pulled in. After some awkward grappling and giggling on both sides, I was once again standing on the wet bathroom floor. I unwrapped the sopping towel, rang it over the vanity drain and dropped it into the sink with a heavy flop. I snatched several fresh towels from the linen cabinet, wrapped myself in one and shook out the other for Samuel.

  “All right, your turn.”

  Samuel arched a brow, a strange look on his face. “Give me a few minutes to get myself outta this tub on my own. Go on, now. How much do ye wanna bet there’s a lunch tray and some clothes set out for us in the bedroom?”

  My stomach growled at the thought. With all the excitement, it had been a full twenty-four hours since the last time we ate. “Can I at least help you up?”

  He shook his head and his smile grew. “Away ye go. I’m good. Just need a minute of privacy if ye don’t mind.”

  “All right.” I set the towel on the edge of the vanity, mussed his damp hair and headed for the door. “Call if you need me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Samuel was correct about the food and clothes, though judging by what was left, the skirts were for him and the dresses for me. I laughed and exchanged my towel for a camel-colored sheath dress with a high neck and long sleeves. I pulled on warm ivory stockings and slipped my feet into a lovely pair of brown leather boots left by the door. Standing before the mirror I stared at myself.

  I had never worn something so fitted. The cut of the dress highlighted the volume of my breasts, my slender waist and pretty much every female curve I possessed.

  Galan would hate it. I loved it.

  No more Lia girl or little one. This dress made it clear I was no longer a youth.

  I broke a warm pastry in half and moaned at the sweet succulence. “Samuel, you must needs hurry or I am liable to eat everything myself.”

  A deep-throated laugh rumbled in the bathroom. “Eat 'til ye burst, Luv. It’s been too long since ye filled yer belly. Ye must be famished.”

  He shuffled out of the bathroom, a towel loosely wrapped around his hips and fisted in his hand.

  Yes. Famished.

  The gash on his side looked better with the blood and filth cleaned away but there were still a dozen bruises appearing and pooling dark at an alarming rate.

  “How long until your injuries heal?”

  Samuel chuckled, not at all fooled by the reason for my question. “A few days at least, I’m afraid.”

  Turning to the bed, I gestured for him to sit on the edge and handed him one of the other pastries. “Let me bind your ribs and help you dress.”

  After retrieving the medical supplies, I surveyed his ribs. I judged them to be intact but tender and bruised. “When shall I stand as queen?”

  He hissed as I wound the strips of cloth around his chest, but soon enough they were tied and I eased his arms into a crisp, white dress shirt. “An hour? I expect the usual suspects are gatherin’ as we speak.”

  “What? Now?”

  Samuel nodded. “Better to move on it and foil any plan Abaddon and Rheagan have brewing. It will strengthen yer case in the Fae courts too, I expect. The Fates wouldna think twice about screwin’ ye over as a regular Highborne citizen but they might think twice before pissing off Queen Lia, Ruler of the Realm of the Fair.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing productive came to mind.

  “I may still have to smooth a few things out with the Order but consider yerself as good as coronated.”

  Not wanting to think about being coronated yet, I focused on the first part of his sentence. “Why should you smooth things over with them? They chained you to a wall and—”

  Two fingers pressed to my lips. “Dinnae think too harshly of the Order. Rheagan and your ancestors almost wiped out the races living in this part of the realm. Hatred runs deep and Celts are stubborn as rocks. The last thing anyone expected was for me to appear a decade after I abandoned my position, with a Highborne at my side, declaring her to be queen.”

  I tossed the medical supplies back into the basket. “They despise me. What about that will change?”

  “They dinnae know you.”

  I glared at him. “You despised me and my family for almost a year. Mayhap the Talon should protect the ones to protect the throne.”

  He scowled back, shuffling over to his wardrobe, his hand pressed against his ribs as he walked. “Aye, I did but that wasna all my fault. Yer brother had a hand in it too. Like it or no, the Order is the protector of the throne. As long as Abaddon wants to take hold of it, these men will protect ye.”

  I straightened the bedding and yanked the golden coverlet back into place. “I have no interest in being protected by the people who tortured you.”

  “Well, birthright trumps yer interests on that score.”

  “And have I naught to say about this either? Is that it?”

  He glanced over his shoulder and cocked a brow. “Not much I’m afraid.”

  I clenched my hands into fists. “You have no idea how infuriating it is to have no voice in your own future. To have the Fates decide who you are and where your life is headed, for the God of gods to tell you where your destiny lies regardless of any feeling you have to the contrary.”

  He dropped the towel and wrapped a plaid skirt around his waist. He glared over his shoulder, his lip curled. “No idea, eh? Did ye honestly just say that to me? I think I have a fair recollection of how that feels. I’ve had my guts ripp
ed out by the Fates too, if ye remember.”

  The bitter mixture of fury and betrayal stung my sinuses. I swallowed and unclenched my fists. “Of course. Apologies.”

  Samuel continued to dress, first shoving his shirttails under the waistband of his skirt and then easing his arms into a leather vest as he cursed.

  I gently hugged him from behind and laid my cheek against his back. “Forgive me, please. That was thoughtless.”

  After a moment, his shoulders relaxed. Turning in my arms, he kissed the top of my head and hugged me back. “Forgiven, lass. I’m sorry too.”

  My mind tumbled with all the things I had no control over while he struggled to finish dressing. His stockings and shoes presented a true challenge, unable to reach down with his ribs bound and bruised.

  I knelt on the floor to aid him. “I cannot imagine anyone less suited to be Queen of a realm. The idea strikes me cold to my bones. I want you to know, I would be lost without your counsel. Verily, I hold no skills, no strengths for leading, no . . . anything.”

  He lifted me to stand before him and rose to his feet. Two fingers gently chucked my chin to meet his gaze. “Dinnae panic yet, Luv. There will be plenty of time for worrying later. For now, let’s take things one disaster at a time. I’m sure the next will hit us soon enough.”

  He finished his outfit by buckling a small pouch and dagger across his hip. He was sheathing the blade when a soft knock drew our attention to the door.

  “Come in,” Samuel said. The door swung open and he cursed. “Aye, just as I predicted.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Galan stepped into our suite, dressed in formal pants and jacket, and set a suitcase and a large satchel on the floor. Tham came in behind him and they both stared at me standing beside the bed in my new outfit. I knew my brother well enough to read his displeasure but before he put it to voice he saw my cheek.

  “Sweeting, what happened?” He strode to me and touched the gash. Both he and Tham glared at Samuel.

  “What? Ye think I’d hit her, do ye?” Samuel’s hand tightened around the hilt of his little dagger. “Ye condescending, piece of—”

  I stepped between the three and stared Galan down. “Stop this. Samuel had nothing to do with it and you know it. Stop stirring up silt. The waters are plenty muddy and we have more important things to worry about.”

  Samuel turned back to the bed and picked up our two wet towels and shuffled into the bathroom to hang them.

  “Wait,” I said. “How are you here so quickly? It took us hours last night and you neither look weary from travel nor do you smell of horse.”

  Tham spun a dagger in the palm of his hand and winked. Castian approved Julian’s request to open a portal mirror on the grounds. Despite the Order objecting to magic on the premises, they relented and it was completed an hour ago.

  Samuel returned and looked like he had regained his composure. “So, I’m assuming that if yer here, Tham fetched ye and explained the situation.

  Galan inclined his head and pointed to the satchel inside the door. “I brought the volumes of Highborne law and your notes from Reign’s study, and Lia’s personal items, yes. Though I am still at odds with her living here.”

  Samuel shrugged and held his hand out to me. I took my place at his side as he headed toward the door. “Good, thank you. And now that yer here, we should head down and get yer sister crowned Queen of the Realm. Follow me.”

  Samuel led us down and through the three upper levels of the elegant manse to a large set of double doors on the main floor. The wide archway curled between stone columns and held heavy, iron-studded doors.

  I glanced up at the spiked metal portcullis suspended in its brackets above the entire opening. The tips, sharpened to pierce and impale, hung with threatening intent above those who passed beneath. “This entrance seems imposing.”

  Samuel glanced up, his kilt swishing as he moved. “Aye, the Queen’s living and guest quarters are in the south wing and all the rooms related to realm business are in the north wing. These doors and gate separate the two and can be dropped and locked from either side if anything dangerous should happen in the course of yer duties.”

  My duties? That reality remained bizarre.

  I spun the blue diamond on my finger. “And have these battlements needed to come down in the past?

  Samuel raised a brow. “No, this Citadel was constructed long after the fall of Rheagan. The Order and their families use the buildings and grounds, but as the first to serve Castian and the Realm of the Fair from this location as Queen—you are the true and rightful owner of everything here.”

  Galan’s silver brows arched so high I laughed. Well, what does one say to that? he asked into my mind.

  I shook my head. I have no idea . . . gratitude?

  As we breached the threshold and moved across the glass sheen of the granite floor, the heels of my new boots beat out a solid, surefooted rhythm. It was a grave misrepresentation of my current condition. Galan, did you feel this overwhelmed and under-qualified when Castian made you the Sentinel of Souls? Did you try to decline?

  He chuckled and hid his smile by scrubbing a hand over his mouth. At least if not more, sweeting. Plus, it was the day after my mating and I found out my bride was Castian’s biological daughter. Not where I thought life would take me.

  I slipped my hand in the crook of his elbow and pressed my good cheek against his arm. He smelled, as always, like sunshine and suede. I breathed his scent deep into my lungs. Quite a pair are we not? So why us do you suppose?

  He barked a laugh. It rang through the corridor and eased the knotted ball twisting in my belly. I have no idea, sister-mine, but this is Life’s Journey after all. Why should only the males of our race endure an Ambar Lenn? In this realm, females have equal rights.

  Wonderful. All the pomp and power I never wanted in a destiny I never asked for.

  He kissed the side of my head and squeezed me to his side.

  The room Samuel took us to was located down the widest hall, in the center of the north wing, first floor. By the sounds of the voices rumbling up the art-adorned corridor to greet us, there were a dozen or more people in there.

  Samuel nodded to the young male standing sentry outside the doorway and we entered. A massive rotunda the open space was decorated in charcoal gray and silver with pale blue, velvet drapes and a silver gilt dome high above.

  The mumble of voices silenced as the people in the room became aware of our arrival. The faces of strangers far outweighed the faces I recognized. And while many of them seemed to share the local viewpoint of my utter filth, many more seemed politely curious.

  I was curious too. I hadn’t expected representatives from the other races of the realms, though it made sense that they would be there once I thought about it. There were Centaurs, Sprights, Weres, several races of Elves, Nimphs, Dwarves and Brownies. And those were only the ones I recognized.

  “May I introduce my niece,” Castian said, striding forward with a midnight blue robe draped over his arm. “Everyone welcome Lia Caleblasse, the rightful and future Queen of the Realm of the Fair.”

  The group pressed outward to the rounded walls opening the space. Galan and Samuel escorted me to the center of the room. Castian met me, swung the blue robe around my shoulders and clasped the ornate star brooch over my heart.

  “It is not as heavy as I thought it would be,” I said.

  Castian smiled, his emerald eyes glittering like gems. “I promise you, neither is the position it signifies. You’re gonna rock their stockings off.”

  Samuel snorted beside me and I tried not to laugh.

  Castian leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. The shock of his power was immediate. A surge of energy zinged through me. I clenched my fists and tried not to whimper. Only his hands under my elbows kept me on my feet. But as quickly as the electrocution began, it receded.

  When he straightened, he cupped my face in his hands and gathered my tears with his thumbs. “A
ll done, sweet one. Now you are truly ready to take on the realm. Come, there is much to be done.”

  The Queen’s war room . . . my war room, sat through a hidden door in the back of the rounded throne room wall. A circular ebony table anchored the center of the room. Inlaid with a four-pointed star the tips of the star pointed to the four largest chairs. Fifteen gray upholstered chairs tucked under the table in even intervals around its edge. And where the sixteenth chair sat, the gray was replaced by an ebony, high-backed throne proportioned for a female.

  It suited my tastes well.

  Castian led me to the ebony throne and extended an elegant hand, gesturing for me to take my place. “We have many realm issues to address and questions to ask and answer. Let’s get started.”

  Questions?

  That was a gross understatement.

  I strode to the main point of the table’s design and settled into the cushioned throne as the males assembled. Castian sat opposite me while Samuel, Galan, Reign, Savage and Kobi stepped away to stand against the wall. Colum Murray, the four other men from the founding families and eight other Order men filled in the table.

  I cast a wandering glance at the five males of the Order who had confronted me that morning in the small dining hall.

  I raised my fingers to my sore cheek and realized each of five of them wore matching injuries. Apparently, Castian had settled the matter by mirroring the pain they inflicted on me. Samuel’s father, though, looked worse. He wore the swollen bruise on his cheek like mine, but also bore the injuries he orchestrated for his son as well.

  Hah. Served him right. I would bump his ribs in the hall if I could manage it. I cast a glance to Castian and sent him my gratitude. The smile he gave me was more radiant than the midday sun.

  “So,” Castian began, “this is your royal council, Lia. I believe you’ve met some of these gentlemen but the others should introduce themselves.”