by Kate Kelley
Wolfram stilled and I smiled wanly. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”
Wolfram breathed, slowly, in and out. Finally he spoke. “I trust you.”
The words were soft and even, resolved. My heart lurched and I turned my head toward his so that my face touched his. “Thank you.”
Wolfram’s lips tickled the side of my temple. “I did hear you, I was just testing you to make sure you told me the truth.”
I reared back and punched his arm. “Asshole! Now who’s untrustworthy?” I hissed.
“Can we please get back home? Survivor comes on tonight and at this rate, I’m going to miss it, what with the ball.”
I snickered at Brand’s words and Wolfram pushed back from the tree, the air sweeping me in his absence. I’d forgotten about the other boys. I wondered what they’d heard of my conversation with Cole, and whether or not they believed me.
I knew of at least one of the brothers who wouldn’t, at least.
We made our way silently through the woods and the moon was high in the sky, the night a tad more crisp even in the muggy air of the swamp.
I wondered just how good the boys’ hearing was, and whether or not they had heard Cole tell me who my real parents were. And what they would do when they found out.
Chapter Twenty five
By the time we made it back home, I was exhausted, emotionally. But I still needed to sit down and talk to the boys in a civil manner And then dress for the ball, which was an hour and a half away at this point.
“Survivor will have to wait,” I said as Brand practically jogged down the hall to his room. He stopped and whipped around. “Now what?”
Wolfram hooked a finger under my strap and I turned to meet his eyes, now dark, light copper shining through. “What happened to your shirt?”
I shrugged out of his touch. “Cole snapped them.”
Wolfram’s eyes burst with copper and his he curled his fists until his knuckles cracked, breathing in sharply. “He tried to…?” He spun, as if trying to direct his anger elsewhere so that I couldn’t see it.
“He didn’t touch me in that way. He’s my brother.” I mean, he wasn’t blood, but it was the first thing that popped into my head. And really, was a great segway into explaining the whole thing anyway.
Wolfram stopped, lowering his arms slowly, his fingers relaxing. It was a full minute before he turned around. The copper still shined brightly as his gaze landed on me.
“Say what now?” Baal’s deep, troubled voice sounded as his large frame pushed through the door. Aiden followed behind him, his eyes piercing me as soon as he spotted me, making me feel like a cornered mouse. I had the feeling he was angry at me, but I couldn’t fathom why. Although, it was Aiden. He was always angry.
I sighed and sat down in the modest (for a castle) sitting room. This was the private sitting room of Wolfram’s and where we held all of our drinking games and meetings.
The boys sat in their usual spots, Wolfram across from me on the sofa, Baal next to me on my sofa, Brand next to Wolfram, and Aiden behind Wolfram in a chair he snatched from the table, making him the farthest away.
All eyes turned expectant eyes on me, and all of them were some varying degree of copper or crimson. They were all angry. Even Brand, probably because of Survivor.
I took a deep breath before beginning. “I wanted to see the leaders. To see what we were up against. I’m sorry, Wolfram. I’m sorry for not listening to you.”
Wolfram’s jaw worked as if he were keeping himself from shouting at me.
I took a deep breath and breathed out my trepidation. “But I’m not sorry for doing it.”
Aiden leaned back and scoffed as I continued. “I learned valuable, interesting information because I went to that middle building. Would you like to know what that was?”
Baal crossed his arms. “That Cole is selling you some bullshit about you being his sister?”
I flashed my eyes at him. “I learned that they have an Air elemental working for them. She unveiled me and Cole captured me.”
All men except for Aiden cursed. Wolfram stood and began pacing. “They’re working with other Kingdoms. That’s unheard of, especially for them.”
Aiden narrowed his gaze at me. “How do you know she was Air?”
“She was flying. And her eyes were white, not red or copper.”
Aiden scowled. “White? You saw wrong--”
“No such thing as white eyes. Couldn’t have been. Air is blue,” Brand commented.
I shrugged. “Well, that’s what I saw. Maybe it was blue and it was just hard to see in the dark.”
Wolfram sighed, leaning a leaning over the mantel in a deathly, white-knuckled grip. He stared into the flames. “What else did you learn?”
“That Cole isn’t the Wildfire leaders’ real son. He was kidnapped by them, from a lesserborn fire couple, at the same time I was sold on the black market to my father on earth.”
The room went deadly silent, all eyes on me, even Wolfram’s who spun to watch me. “I’m their real daughter. But they got rid of me when they saw I had Air magic and not Fire. I suppose my Fire magic expressed later. They knew killing me would land them in trouble, so they just switched me with a Fire baby, Cole, and pretended he was their real child the entire time.”
At that point, I expected someone to say something, but the men were still silent, still staring at me, although their eyes were doused of color. Four black, hard eyes, pinning me to my seat. I waited another thirty seconds.
“If no one is going to say anything, then I think I’ll leave,” I said, rising to my feet. “I’m tired, and I still need to get ready for the ball, so if you’ll all excuse me--”
“When is your birthday?” Aiden asked, his voice hushed. I glanced sharply at him. He never had such a soft cadence to his voice. I read his eyes--black and...fearful? Expectant? He glanced knowingly at Wolfram, who met his gaze with a grim, harried look. A chill raked up my spine.
“September twenty-second,” I said, drawing the words out, trying to figure out what their deal was. “I think, unless I was lied to about that too my whole life,” I added.
Wolfram began pacing again, and suddenly he was before me in the blink of an eye. I stumbled back and Baal caught me. How had Baal gotten behind me so fast? Fear raked up my spine again, tingling and settling in my gut.
I held my arms up in surrender. “Will someone explain? You’re all scaring the shit out of me.”
“We should kill her now, save mother the trouble,” Aiden said grimly, and it was as though someone had punched me in the gut. With a sledgehammer. I clutched at my belly, forcing air into my lungs with a stifled breath.
“What?” I breathed the question, my voice giving out.
Brand rose abruptly then, startling me back another pace, except that I couldn’t move because Baal was keeping my back glued to his chest.
Brand’s chest rose and fell heavily. “Don’t be a fucking prick, Aiden. And Wolfram, I’m not listening to that shit again, so don’t even start.”
Wolfram’s brows lowered as he looked me over with a robotic movement of his eyes, as if scanning me for secrets that lie hidden deep in my blood. Devastation broke down his features then, and a resignation I’d only seen once on his face masked his features. The same hopeless look in his eyes when he told me about his father and brother’s murder.
My heart skipped a beat when his eyes met mine again, and tears filled my eyes. I didn’t know what was going on, but I didn’t like the way he was looking at me--as if he didn’t know me. That scared me more than Aiden’s suggestion to kill me. “What is happening?” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears.
“Jesus, let her go,” Brand shouted, fear threaded through his voice, and ice crawled up my spine as Aiden pushed past Wolfram and grabbed my wrist. I wrenched out of his grasp and backed up until I hit the door, my hands itching to grab my katana. Baal stood by me, watching me silently.
Aiden followed me, seemingly unc
oncerned with how I might retaliate. His lips wobbled with emotion before he spoke. “You’re the reason our baby brother was taken from us. The reason our father was killed.”
Air left my lungs. What?!
Wolfram finally spoke up then, but there was no malice in his voice. He sounded...confused. “Aiden. Stop. She was... a child.She couldn’t have known...” I narrowed my eyes on him but he didn’t meet my gaze. Did he think I knew I was the Wildfire leaders’ daughter this entire time?
Brand bounded over to us and I turned dumbly toward him. “What the fuck is wrong with you dickheads? Now you are suggesting that Cole is our brother. That Wildfire leaders killed our father and stole our brother, and that it’s fucking Cole? There is no proof for any of this. And even if it were true, why would Rai be responsible for her parents’ actions?”
My head spun and I covered my mouth in shock. What? Cole is their brother?
Aiden’s voice was ice cold, matching his eyes. “She’s Wildfire, it’s in her blood. She’ll turn on us. She already has. You heard her wanting to turn August into them.”
I shook my head, and spoke, embarrassed at the tremor in my voice. “That was a lie, to get out of the situation. It was either that, or have August come to look for me and get everyone killed!”
Aiden shook his head. “I don’t trust her for a second. She shows up in August’s life out of nowhere, a twisted abomination of a freak. She then kills the Air queen, hides out here, then this tie to Wildfire comes out. For God’s sake, she’s the fucking daughter of MacKay and Babs. And her birthday is the same day our dad and brother were killed. Tell me that’s a coincidence.”
Baal stepped forward. “She won’t be harmed here.”
Aiden jerked his head, his long bangs sweeping to the side. “I’ll kill her myself.”
“You’ll have to go through me,” Baal said darkly. Brand and Wolfram walked up and stood between Aiden and myself, staring down at him. Well, at least they were on my side. Or maybe they just didn’t want blood on their hands.
My breath came in shallow, shaky bursts. I clutched the door knob with one hand, the other grabbing the hilt of my katana. If he wanted to attack me, I would defend myself.
“If you can’t see the truth in front of your face, then you’re both blind with lust,” Aiden spat. “Wolfram, you’re the one who came to me with the theory that Wildfire killed our father and brother. You told me about the energy imprint our father left, warning us that Wildfire had lied about our brother’s death. That fateful day was twenty six years ago to the day. The day Rai just happened to be born. She’s MacKay and Babs daughter, and was sold on the black market and swapped for a fire baby. Come on, there’s no such thing as that much coincidence.”
Silence descended again, and I dared to raise my eyes to Wolfram. He was looking directly at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. I glanced at Brand, and flinched, my heart bursting. He was staring at the wall, his profile in perfect view. His face was streaked with tears, his face flushed, his short, dark brown hair brushed to the side with dampness. He didn’t attempt to wipe the tears away, he just let them flow silently as he spoke through them. “I don’t know if Cole is our brother. But we buried him long ago, and this--this constant clinging to fantasy isn’t going to help any of us. It’s time to let it go and say goodbye--”
“I won’t ignore the truth. And this is the best explanation we have as to what happened,” Wolfram said stoically. I noticed that he failed to add his verdict on me--whether or not I was innocent.
Brand scoffed and wiped his face before darting toward me. I tensed until he stopped abruptly in front of me, his face full of misery.
I took my hand away from my katana and wrapped him in a hug. His arms hung limp at his sides before he wrapped arms around me and rubbed my back.
He pulled back, an arm’s length away. “Don’t let Aiden get to you. He’s cursed with tragedy and wants the world to burn. Wolfram is too.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he reached past me and opened the door, disappearing down the hall. I watched him go, then stopped myself from turning back to the men in the room. I didn’t have anything else to say to any of them.
I broke the threshold and didn’t stop my pace until I’d closed and leaned against my door, turning the lock soundly.
Chapter Twenty Six
A violet monstrosity lay on my bed. It was the width of my queen-sized bed, and covered in chiffon ruffles and lace. The neckline was so high, I was sure it had come from the twelfth century. I approached it slowly as if it were a sleeping predator and poked it, instantly recoiling. It was stiff and scratchy.
Who the fuck’s idea was it to have me wear that?
“That maid must really hate me,” I muttered out loud. The maid that I refused to help dress me, but who found other ways of serving me. She’d leave breakfast on the table, wash my clothes, clean my room, all without ever seeing her enter. It was annoying, really. It felt like an invasion of privacy.
And now this.
“Nope,” I said out loud, and stalked to the bath, tugging my leggings and bra off and turning on the bathwater, adjusting the temperature to much hotter than I normally would. I popped in a violet bath bomb (yeah, the violet joke was really running its course).
As the water ran, I stretched, bending over and touching my toes, reaching up and stretching my biceps, my neck. That whole mess back there--the scope-out, the tense meeting with the guys. I needed to mentally get away from that.
Then I let the braid out of my hair and sank into the luxurious bath, letting the strain and ache in my muscles leach out of me. The bath bomb fizzed and foamed over the surface of the water, covering my body from view. I propped one knee up and out of the water and grasped the sides of the tub, bending my neck back until my hair was submerged in the water. My breasts popped out of the water, cooling them, and I used my hands to scrub my scalp, feeling my hair become silky and smooth under the soap’s assault.
When it was thoroughly soaped and rinsed, I lifted my head, and, eyes closed, smoothed the water from my hair in my fist, wringing the excess water out. Blindly, I felt around for a towel that was supposed to be on the edge of the tub—but wasn’t.
Suddenly it was in my hand and I opened an eye in confusion, water rushing in. I wiped the towel over my face hastily. “What the fuck are you doing in here?” I asked, huddling deeper into the water until it was drowning my earlobes. It wasn’t just the nakedness that angered me. It was the fact that he hadn’t outrightly defended me in the meeting.
Wolfram stood, dressed in a black suit—black everything—vest, tie, shoes, staring at me, his hands in his pockets and his hair tied back at his nape. “I thought you’d be ready by now. You do know the ball is tonight, right?”
I gaped. A good portion of my brain had short circuited and could only process was the fact that I was naked and Wolfram, looking dapper and hot as hell, was looking at me.
“I thought it wasn’t for another two hours,” I managed. I listened to the bubbles popping on the surface of the water.
Wolfram frowned and checked his watch. “Half hour, really. Is your hair going to dry in time?”
I scoffed. “You’re really concerned about my hair? That’s what you came in to tell me?”
I watched more bubbles pop on the surface of the water, leaving large areas clear. I scrounged around along the bottom of the tub until my hand brushed the lushness of the washcloth I was using, and laid it flat over my lower half.
“Well? Anything else?” I asked, my face flushing. I wanted him to apologize for the meeting, for not sticking up for me as he should have.
His eyes lingered on my face before dipping to the water. I slung an arm over my breasts. “Adara wouldn’t like you in my room right now.”
Wolfram shrugged, his gaze hot on mine.
Alright…
My breathing picked up and I thought about standing, letting the water rush from my body, stepping over the edge of the tub, and pressing my
wet, naked body against his fully dressed one. Would he kiss me like he did the other day in the sparring field? Chills erupted on my skin and I pinched my legs together, slippery under the hot water.
I glared at him. “Isn’t the ball like an engagement party for you two?”
Wolfram’s jaw clenched. “Something like that.”
“Then get the fuck out. I don’t want that woman killing me in my sleep with a stiletto. I already have one person who wants to kill me. I don’t need another.”
He hesitated. “It’s just a cover.”
My eyes flew to his. “What do you mean?”
He suddenly looked confused, his eyes full of regret. “Never mind,” he said roughly, then he strode out of the room.
I waited until I heard the click of the door closing, and then, with shaking hands, I gripped the edges of the tub and stood, using the towel Wolfram had handed me to dry off as the water drained slowly. He hadn’t apologized. Why would I expect him to?
I threw a robe on as I contemplated the violet dress on my bed. I wasn’t wearing that. No way.
I sauntered to the closet and flung the door open, surveying the dresses hung that I’d largely ignored. I wasn’t really ever a dress girl. When I could get away with slacks and a nice shirt, I would. Not that I’d had many occasions to dress up, except, maybe, for Evan’s holiday office parties.
Reaching out, I trailed a hand along the edges of the hanging dresses, and randomly chose one to pull out. It was emerald green, with a fitted top and an aline skirt. I felt tulle underneath.
Nope.
I let that one go and pulled out another one. Black, more my style. But too short, way too short.
I moved my hand farther back and touched something silky, catching the hanger it was hanging onto. I tugged and yanked it out past the other garments.
It was charcoal, with a sheen of violet underneath. The torso was fitted and the waist cinched before it fell to the floor delicately in a modest aline. It wasn’t stuffed with tulle, or beads or ruffles. It was silky, except for the top, which was a soft lace, darting into a sweetheart neckline, and continuing down the sleeves.