“No and no. Why?”
How would he feel like beneath my hands? As hard as he seemed, or was his body softer? I shook the growing collection of wicked thoughts from my head. Tiredness, that was all. “No reason.”
“Eledan will not have imprisoned Oberon, but that doesn’t mean the king isn’t suffering at his hands.”
Eledan had many creative ways of torturing someone, and he’d had a long time to think up many ways to make Oberon pay. Then there were Oberon’s words and Eledan’s insistence that his brother had to live. They were connected by more than blood. I looked down at the marks on my forearms and felt the light flutter to life inside. We were all connected. Eledan and me and Oberon. Talen too.
Fabric sighed against Sirius’s skin, and I wondered if I could leave. Or would that make it obvious how his unexpected nakedness had unbalanced me? It wasn’t as though I hadn’t seen him naked before, so why did this time feel different?
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“No. Nothing. At all. I’m just… tired.” I peeked again, relieved to find him fully covered up, even if the attire was disarmingly similar to basic saru clothing. He looked… understated. His hacked-at hair had grown out a little and was damp from a shower. He swept the russet locks back, making his stubborn scowl even more striking.
“He’ll find you if you sleep.” He adjusted his sleeve, working it around his tek wrist.
“On the way here, I dreamed… but it was different, more like a nightmare of colours and noise… Are we safe here?”
Sirius frowned. “I don’t know. Your light is a beacon to them both. There are few places on Faerie you can hide.”
“Could Oberon have overpowered Eledan?” The thought chilled me. Eledan was mad, but I could manage him. Oberon had seemed so different and unhinged in the courtyard. As though he’d been infected with a madness more dangerous than Eledan’s.
“Yes. The king was taken by surprise, but if Eledan lost his focus, as he appeared to when we fled, Oberon would only need one opportunity to retaliate.”
“Are we safe here?” I repeated.
His cheek fluttered. “For a while. I can ask the Wild Ones for help, but Eledan is well known to them also…”
The light cotton shirt bunched at Sirius’s wrists and waist, where it dove into those tight-fitting trousers. He looked like a completely different fae from the one who constantly growled, sneered, and wished me dead. I preferred that fae. This Sirius was approachable and more dangerous because of it. My guard was slipping. Maybe he was using glamour, or maybe I still had some emotional numbing left over from the roses, because this guardian had never seemed so normal.
He looked up. “I’m not sure I enjoy the way you’re admiring me.”
“I’m not—that’s not—” I gave a disgusted snort. “I’m not admiring you.” Karushit. It was one thing to look, but another to be caught doing it. “I just… I haven’t seen you looking so normal before. It’s unnerving.”
“If a saru were caught admiring a fae lord in the manner you were just admiring me, that saru would be subjected to significant punishment.”
Seriously? “You’re still a dick.”
His lips twitched, and an almost invisible smile dimpled his cheek.
The bastard was screwing with me. Two could play that game. “Did you somehow find a sense of humor while your head was up your ass?”
He stood, frowned like he always did, and said, “What you described is anatomically impossible.”
“You having a sense of humor? Yeah, I know. But considering I just saw Eledan conjure the Wild Hunt out of nowhere, anything is possible on Faerie, even you getting a personality transplant, because that’s what you’d need for me to even consider admiring your high and mighty ass.”
He huffed an agreeable grumble that sounded suspiciously like laughter and strode by me out of the room, leaving me to wonder if I’d saved myself or dug a deeper hole. Had we been getting along? That couldn’t be right.
I gently bumped a fist against the wall. I had to tell him about Eledan, about the deal, about everything. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for me back in the palace courtyard. Without him, Arran would be dead and I’d still be stuck beside Oberon and nothing would have changed. Now, we’d set into motion a chain reaction. This day would change the future for everyone. And he had done that.
I caught up with him as he entered a snug room lined wall to wall and floor to ceiling with actual paper books. “Sirius…”
My steps slowed. The old-book smell wrapped around me. Talen would have loved it. And then the ache hit, the one that told me he was too far away, fighting the same war in another world. Him and Kellee both. Yeah, the roses were wearing off, and all the emotions were coming back. The hurt, the pain, the fear, the fire, the love, the defiance, and the impossibility of it all.
A long table, carved from an ancient oak like Eledan’s on Arcon, sat on one side of the room. I leaned against it and spread my hands over the polished surface, seeing the ghost of my reflection. I looked nothing like the messenger girl I’d been on Calicto, and nothing like the Wraithmaker with her cold, alien distance. Wet dark hair framed a pale, exhausted face, and my saru eyes seemed distant, as though I wasn’t really looking at me but at someone else, someone trapped in a mirror.
“I miss them,” I whispered.
“They will find a way to return to you.”
Maybe. Talen had his own destiny, and Kellee would sacrifice too much if he thought he could save lives.
I might never see them again…
“Sirius.” I straightened. It was time to tell him everything. He stood at the bookcase, looking up. His red hair had dried in natural waves, and he looked younger. Perhaps his home made him seem softer. “I made a deal with Eledan. He will free the saru and stop the war. It’s over.”
“It’s not over, calla.” He sighed. “Freeing the saru is easier said than done. I’ve been working on freeing them for a very long time.” He reached for a book from the many lining the wall, ran his finger down its spine, and moved on to its neighbor, searching for a specific title.
“You have?” He had been working to free the saru? Since when? And why was I only hearing about this now?
“The saru house I took you to is a sanctuary, a place where saru can go when they begin to see doubts and reason, however those doubts are perceived.” He pulled a book from the shelf, read its title, and then placed it back again. “There is a book here, a study of saru mentality written long ago when the saru were still new to us. A fae thought it was possible to separate the saru from its love of Faerie so they could be free to love whomever they pleased. It was a foolish and romantic idea, but I’ve never forgotten it.”
“You were weaning the saru off the fae?” Who was this guardian, and what had he done with the epic asshole who had helped Arran steal me away from Kellee and Talen?
“It’s a slow process,” he continued, still looking for the book. “Freeing them won’t automatically make them free.”
I blinked at the stranger in front of me and then remembered the little girl handing him a wilted flower; remembered how Oberon had said Sirius would see me safely home, no matter what; and remembered how Sirius had said he had watched because he’d had no choice and how he had heard my screams long after I’d left Faerie.
He hadn’t watched Oberon torture me because he had been ordered to.
He had always been at my side. He had carried me away from the pain and wordlessly tended my wounds. Even on Hapters, he had thrown himself in front of the unseelie, and lost his arm to protect me. He’d stayed through countless hours of torture, he’d saved my life on Hapters, and he’d sacrificed everything in the palace courtyard because he cared.
I moved around the table, positioning myself in front of him.
He looked up from the book he’d grabbed. Auburn eyebrows drew together, cutting lines into his face. “What is it?”
He had raged at me, blamed me, cursed me, and
hated me to cover the truth. There was no world, not even a Faerie one, where a guardian could love a slave. It could not be so. But if it did happen, then surely that guardian had lost his way…
“Why are you smiling, calla?” he grumbled.
Sweet cyn, Sirius was in love with me. Did he know? “Am I?”
“Your smiles are worrisome.”
He had always been my guardian. He had been my guardian before I became the Wraithmaker, before Oberon marked me and made me into something vicious and cold. Sirius had been there since the beginning, my silent shadow. I’d been reacting to his anger and throwing it back at him, but I’d been wrong.
“And most disconcerting.” He opened the book in his hands and scanned the pages, diligently ignoring me.
I plucked the book from his hand. Before he could react, and at considerable risk of being thrown onto my ass, I leaned closer and rose onto my tiptoes.
He pulled back, peering warily down his nose. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
“No—”
I jolted higher and kissed him on the lips. A quick peck, or it should have been, but when he didn’t move, didn’t react, I stayed teetering on my toes, opened my mouth, and brushed my lips slowly over his, giving him ample time to withdraw. The seconds ticked on, and when he refused to move, my fragile heart stuttered. I’ve made a mistake. He could have been too insulted to react, in which case this was probably violating a million rules and laws and I was making a fool of myself in front of one of Faerie’s first guardians.
I dropped onto my feet and rolled my lips together, tasting warm autumnal spices. “Thank you. For everything.”
My face burned. Silly that I should feel so small now, after everything that had happened—slaughtering cu sith, helping to bring down the king, him and me getting crucified side by side, battling unseelie. After all that, this one little unrequited kiss almost hurt the most.
I was tired… so tired of searching for my place. I turned away. It had been a kiss, a thank you, and that was all. Of course I wasn’t meant for him, the same as I couldn’t hope to hold Talen or Kellee for long. I was a mortal, a wisp in their hands. They wanted the diamond within me, not its clasp.
“Calla…” Little one.
His tek hand snagged mine. I looked back. Sirius slowly pulled me in and looked down like he had when he had begged me not to give myself up for Arran. He had cared then, like he had always cared, and I’d been blind to it because all I’d seen were our differences. I’d seen his fears and frustrations reflected in mine. I hadn’t known to look for the root of his anger.
I reached up but dared not touch his face. As I wavered, he caught my wrist with his free hand—his tek one still holding my other—and he turned it palm up. With his eyes on mine, he lifted my wrist to his lips and settled the lightest kiss there, a kiss as light as the wisps that had settled on me. So light I wasn’t sure it was real.
An apology was on my lips for not having seen it before, for not having heard the things he couldn’t say. I should have learned by now that the fae kept their truths buried deep inside. I was learning now, seeing him now. He was my first guardian, and he had suffered in silence for years.
“I didn’t understand…” I whispered. “I do now.”
Sirius’s mouth crashed into mine, driving me back against the bookcase. A lust I hadn’t known I was harboring sang, lighting me up. I thrust my hands into his messy hair and kissed him back, untamed and raw. His teeth scraped my lip, his mouth taking everything I gave. I kissed him like it might be my first and last chance to know him. And I wanted to see him now, the real him, the fae he hid so well I’d almost let him slip through my fingers.
His hand clamped my ass, crushing me close. Mindless desire had a hold on me. He lifted me off my feet. I circled an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into me. I wrapped my legs around his hips. A book fell from its shelf and thumped against the floor. Sirius growled against my neck, and then those growls turned into a whisper. “So long, calla, so long… I could not… I dared not give in to this torture.”
My heart broke for him. We’d all been locked in prisons, some real and some imagined, and all this time, I’d held his key.
Turning me, he dumped my ass on the edge of the table and cupped my face. Cool tek pressed gently against my cheek. He looked into my eyes, all his frowns and sneers far, far away. I brushed the last line away, the one at the corner of his lips, with my thumb, and revealed an open look of hope and fear. He had never seemed afraid before.
All that hatred, all that rage, years of denial. Only now was I seeing the truth.
“My first guardian,” I whispered.
I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him down, kissing him hard. He groaned into my mouth, the sound so utterly wrought with relief and frustration that shudders of desire spilled through me. His tek hand dropped to my whip, where he tore it free, and then roamed to my thigh. He squeezed, setting my skin ablaze and making my saru heart pound. When I pulled back, breathless and wanting, wild faefire raged in his eyes. I’d lit the fuse. Now he’d burn for me.
“Get away from my Wraithmaker!” Oberon’s order rang through the knoll, echoing on and on, rousing old magics, and dumping ice water on Sirius and me.
Sirius’s hands were suddenly absent. The guardian sprang back. Everything honest I’d seen in him he barred behind a guardian’s stoic mask. Disheveled and flushed, he stared, unblinking, back at the king with that same faefire in his eyes. Sirius clicked his fingers, and a fire serpent wove up his legs, coiling around his waist and torso.
I dropped to my feet and faced the king.
Oberon was breathing too hard. He glared at Sirius. “You watched me make a weapon out of her, and you know how much I have invested in her creation, yet you stooped so low as to steal her?”
Niamh emerged from his shadow like a creature born of the dark. A naked steel blade glinted at her side. The same wicked gleam was echoed in her red eyes.
Sirius’s throat moved as he swallowed. He moved closer to my side, the traditional guardian position. “I can’t steal what you do not own.”
“Nonsense words,” he hissed. “I created her—”
“Where’s Eledan?” I cut in.
“My brother?” Oberon gave a short, hard laugh. “My brother believed he knew my weaknesses.” The king lifted his right arm, presenting us with ribbons of leather and bleeding skin. The warfae marks were now in shreds. Had Eledan done that to him? “All I’ve ever attempted to do is protect Faerie, and betrayal is my reward. Betrayed by my guardian, betrayed by my Wraithmaker, and betrayed by all of Faerie!”
“The marks…” Sirius murmured, his face darkening.
Oberon leisurely stepped closer. He scanned the bookshelves, taking it all in. “There comes a time when fighting isn’t enough.” He added, “I suppose I see how it would appear from the outside. All stories are written by the winners. A prince so desperate for the throne he captures a weapon to carve his path there. If only it were that simple. I wish I were that shallow prince. History will no doubt remember me as such.” His tone softened, turning distant. “History will remember me as the villain, when I was surely destine to be the hero.”
While Oberon’s eyes were on the books, I inched closer to the table. Beneath it lay my whip.
Sirius and I exchanged a tight look. He was closer to Niamh, and I was closer to Oberon. We had our targets picked. Now we just needed the right moment at act.
“Time…” Oberon sighed. “We feel it keenly as it runs from us.” He pulled a book free from the shelf and tossed it down on the table. The great tome skidded to a halt close enough for me to read its title: The Origin of the Wild Hunt by Prince Eledan.
I lifted my eyes to Oberon.
The king looked back at me, waiting for understanding to click home. But I didn’t understand any of this or my place in it.
“It began a long time ago, as a nightmare of my brother’s making. He said it was a gam
e and that the Wild Ones had told him to do it. The why doesn’t matter. The Dreamweaver gathered all of Faerie’s nightmares and made them into something so powerful, so consuming, that it breathed life into itself, and the Wild Hunt was born. Our mother tried to banish it, but the Darkness always finds a way. And so it roamed freely, wild and hungry, never satisfied, never stopping, and threatening life itself. Left unchecked, it would have turned Faerie, and other worlds too, into a never-ending nightmare and so my brother and I made a deal with the Hunt. It could take the oathbreakers, wrongdoers, and the dishonest. It would act as Faerie’s scythe of justice, and we would not fight it or try to stop it, but one day, we would call upon it to do our bidding. It agreed and marked us both with thorns, forever binding us to the fate of the Wild Hunt.”
The warfae markings were a binding promise.
“But in chaining this terrible thing, my brother and I weakened our own seelie power. The unseelie thought to rise up and claim Faerie for themselves. They wanted to cast out all the light. And so I begged Faerie for a weapon to help restore balance. She gave up Her polestar, but it wasn’t enough. I needed a weapon of darkness too. I called upon the Hunt again and told it that together we could reign over Faerie if it would allow me to wield it. The Hunt agreed, and with it and the polestar bound to my will, I drove the unseelie out of Faerie. Victorious, and with the Wild Hunt and polestar in my hands, I saw an opportunity to keep all the dark at bay. I did not fulfill my side of the bargain. Instead of unleashing it, I kept the Hunt forever trapped.”
“Trapped where?” I asked.
He tapped his head. “In here, in every reflection, in every window, in every smooth surface. I was cursed to forever see its madness looking back at me and to hear its howling in my thoughts, my dreams.” He lifted his bloody arm. “And here, behind these marks. With the polestar, I thought to destroy the nightmare eventually. But my mother did not see reason and fearing I’d been corrupted, she shattered the polestar, not I.” He spread his arms. “Which brings us to this moment. The polestar is still beyond my reach, my brother has torn my reign from me, and the Hunt…” Blood dripped from his fingers. “I am tired of hiding it, controlling it,” again he admired his bloody arms, “and so the Hunt will soon be free to consume once more.”
Prince of Dreams (Messenger Chronicles Book 4) Page 29