Chapter Seven
Days went by without sight or trace of the Stag, and yet every day, I hunted him. I passed villages that were nothing more than ashes, corpses scattered around in different stages of decay. Today, I was in the Deadly Forest, studying the troops we’d sent to track Zahruk’s brother, Fang. Following rumors of the White Stag, I ended up deep in the woods.
Off in the distance, I could see soldiers blending in with the foliage, and yet they didn’t approach the shifters who trekked deeper into the Deadly Forest of Faery. I observed as a blond-haired male turned, staring directly where our troops had stood. He lifted his nose, sniffing the air before whispering orders to the surrounding wolves. Slowly, I moved closer, remaining just behind my shield of invisibility, observing. The man’s sapphire-colored gaze slid back to the horde’s soldiers who watched them, secretly protecting him if the need arose.
I sifted, standing silently between the soldiers and wolves as the blond-haired male removed his shirt, intending to shift to his wolf form. He smelled of sandalwood and spices from faraway lands that danced through my senses. His body was covered in thick, black tattoos he’d found worthy enough to carry for eternity. He stepped forward, running smack into my frame.
“Show yourself to me, monster,” he sneered, reaching for his weapons.
It would really suck to kick Zahruk’s brother’s ass today, but Zahruk had stabbed me once upon a time, so it might not be so bad after all. I materialized so Fang could see me, and he stalled with his hands on his weapons. A wide-eyed stare slowly slipped down my frame. Silently, he took in my tight jeans and the tank top that said Bang a Fae Bae Today. Finally, he lifted his gaze to my face.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you, right here, right now, woman?” Fang demanded, unimpressed with me.
Ouch! Obviously, being married wasn’t helping my sex appeal, and my ego felt that to my bones.
“Let me start with, you can’t,” I offered, shrugging. “You’re in a bad area. One you chose over war, why?”
“Fuck you,” he hissed.
“Hmm, so much anger.”
He drew his swords, swung, and would have removed my head if I hadn’t known it was coming. I snapped my fingers, turning his blades into roses, and watched the shock spread over his face. I shared his horror at the destruction of the beautiful blades I’d just destroyed.
“Mmm, pity those were pretty swords. Now, if you’re ready to listen to me, we can talk.” He balled up his fists, and I lifted one brow in warning. “Okay, your fucking brother already stabbed me once and almost killed me, and if you punch me, I have no problem turning you into a fucking daisy. I’ll even pluck you and take you home to stick in a vase. This is the only warning I’m giving you, Fang,” I said, daring him to try me.
“That asshole sent you? Tell him to leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need his help.” Fang took a step back and huffed.
“No, you don’t. But you’ve almost been a snack to a dragon, sexually assaulted by sirens, which may not have been a terrible thing unless they’d decided you were worth taking home with them. Then there were the redcaps we threatened to eat, and the water sprites who wanted to use your body as fertilizer for the…”
“Do you have a fucking point?” he snapped, folding his arms across his chest.
“You’re an accident waiting to happen, and Zahruk is trying to save you. Why do you hate him?”
“That’s between the goddess and me, not you, lady.” Turning his back on me, Fang began to walk away.
“Hmm, funny, because I happen to be the goddess you’d talk to.” He stopped and faced me with a sarcastic grin on his face. I shrugged. “I know, I don’t look the part, but I assure you, I am.”
“Yeah, and I’m a fucking dragon.” His snort pissed me off.
“No, you’re not. You’re a shape-shifter just like your brother, only you’re pretending to be a werewolf. Your mother was a shape-shifter, and she thought herself a wolf because it spoke to her. But that isn’t your wolf, it’s your mind communicating with the creatures you’ve pretended to be. You’re pissed because you feel like Zahruk has had a better life, and you’ve had to fight for everything you have. I get it, but it’s not his fault. Life’s fucking hard, but it forges us into what we are supposed to be. Look at me.” Extending my hands out at my sides, I smiled at Fang. “First, I was a witch, then an assassin enforcer of the fae, then one of the creatures I hunted, now I am the fae, and I’m the freaking Goddess of the Fae.”
“You’re not the fucking Goddess of the Fae,” he chuckled. “I’ve heard she has tits the size of melons, hips made to hold while she’s ridden from behind, hair the color of the moons when they reach their zeniths, and the beauty of a maiden. You are nothing like they describe of her in ballads.”
“Wow, really? Damn, so basically, I’m a blow-up sex doll? I’m guessing a man came up with that description.”
“As I just stated,” Fang snorted coldly. “You’re not the goddess.”
I glowed, my presence lighting the surrounding woods. “Holy shit,” I murmured, looking at my arms in awe of my essence. “That’s new.”
“Synthia,” Zahruk growled, strolling up beside me, facing off with his brother in silence. “You’re needed at the stronghold. You’re fucking glowing, woman,” he hissed into my ear.
“Yeah, we just discovered that.”
“Why are you glowing?” Zahruk eyed his brother before focusing on me.
“Fang said the Goddess of the Fae had huge tits and looked more like a blow-up doll, so I was proving him wrong.”
“Turn it off,” Zahruk muttered.
“I can’t,” I admitted, laughing.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Cocking his head to the side, he stared at me disbelievingly.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Fang demanded, staring at Zahruk through hate-filled eyes. His hands clenched into fists, and I lifted a brow in a silent warning, causing Fang to drop his hands.
“I’m searching for the Queen of the Horde,” Zahruk grumbled, and I snorted. Of course, Ryder had dispatched his best tracker to find me.
“She isn’t here,” Fang snapped.
“Yes, she is, asshole.”
“I have no business with the horde, and I sure as fuck would know if she was in my camp.”
“She’s right in fucking front of you.” Zahruk motioned to me and then looked at his brother as if he were the dumbest fae in Fairy. “Fang, meet Synthia, Queen of the Horde and the Goddess of the Fae. Syn, meet my asshole brother.”
“We’ve met, he’s cool,” I said offhandedly, trying to take some of the tension away from the brothers. “Anywho, have you seen the White Stag? He can either be a Stag, a beautiful man, or pretty much anything he wants to be. It’s a toss-up as to what he wants to appear as, I guess.”
“No, I’ve never seen him.” Fang shook his head.
“Okay, take me back to my prison, Zahruk,” I mumbled, turning to stare at him. It filled his cold, unforgiving eyes with an expression I’d never seen, one that looked like regret. Slowly, he grabbed my hand, and we vanished together, reappearing just outside the war room.
“Why would you seek him out?” Zahruk demanded the moment we were back.
“I wasn’t looking for Fang. A sprite said the Stag is known for being in the forest, so I thought I’d check it out. I watched him for a bit when I stumbled upon our guards. He almost discovered their presence, so I intervened. “Why were you there?” I countered.
“Ryder asked me to bring you back so you two could talk,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Go easy on him, Syn. He isn’t wrong. People think he is vulnerable and that you make him weak. He has to show the horde that isn’t true, and that he is their king. If they smell blood, they will attack us. That can’t happen with the mages movi
ng their forces closer to us every day. You love him, and he loves you. That’s a fucking problem. The horde doesn’t understand love, and they don’t understand Ryder’s changes. They see it as something to exploit. Also, glow bug, we’re about to head into battle, and he can’t do that if his head is here and not there.”
“When do you guys leave?” I asked, hating that, once again, Ryder and I would be separated at two different battlefronts.
“In a few days,” Zahruk admitted, a frown deepening and creasing his brow. “I know you hate being here, but the guys fight better without women in battle. Ryder can’t fight while worrying if you’re okay. You’re the queen, one who the people respect. I’m not saying you won’t be fighting with us soon, but while we set up the troops where they’re needed, stay home. You’re the biggest fucking piece in place, and Ryder trusts you to hold his throne while he’s doing what is necessary. You are right where you are supposed to be. Now, turn that shit off because you’re killing my fucking eyes.”
“Sorry,” I said, closing my eyes until he chuckled. Opening them, I smirked, happy to have finally stopped glowing. “Take me to him, and I’ll hear him out.”
“He’s in the throne room, poring over maps with his counsel.”
Chapter Eight
Ryder watched me approach with Zahruk by my side as we entered the throne room. His dark head lifted from the map on the large wooden table. Slowly moving across the room, I noted him, taking in the tight jeans that hugged my legs and the thigh-high boots. My heels clicking against the smooth, marble floor was the only sound in the entire room, even though it was filled with men planning for war.
“Decided to apologize?” I asked, hitching one brow before crossing my arms, waiting for him to do just that. He shook his dark head, letting power slither over my flesh while he remained cold and distant. Golden eyes lifted, locking with mine in a silent battle.
“I have nothing to apologize for, Synthia,” he muttered, studying my narrowed gaze. “You’ve wasted enough time hunting the Stag. It’s time you helped around here and stopped wasting your fucking time pouting about stupid shit.” I studied the faces around the table who observed me carefully, while those who knew me refused to meet my confused stare.
My spine stiffened as I pondered his words, wondering what I’d failed to do for the prick. I’d held court, ate nasty food with creatures that made my skin crawl while somehow keeping a smile plastered onto my face during the entire process. Ciara had helped order food, sending it out to the fae who needed it, and still storing a more substantial portion in the cellars that lined the dungeons in case we endured a siege.
I’d spent entire days preparing the castle in the event it was attacked and making sure that, if the villages of the horde had to evacuate, they could find shelter here with us. I’d worked endlessly, and in my spare time, which wasn’t much, I’d hunted the Stag.
Today had been the only day I’d gone out early, and I’d checked my schedule, which was filled with mundane tasks anyone could have done. I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly through my mouth while noting the heads of the horde clans were here today, and while I wanted to slap the smug look off Ryder’s face, I wouldn’t.
“What do you need, My King?” I asked in a saccharine sweet tone. The words dripped over honey, so no one heard the barb buried within them.
“For you to do your fucking job as queen, and tend to your fucking people,” he snorted. “Stop acting like a child for a little while and realize there’s a lot more at stake here than your wounded fucking pride.” Still glaring at me, Ryder pointed to the room next door. “There is an entire room of creatures waiting to be heard. I can’t run battle strategies and listen to the grievances of our people. Go change your clothes into something that isn’t so fucking human, Synthia. Act like you’re the Queen of the Horde for once,” Ryder hissed, raking his angry glare slowly down my body.
“As you wish,” I hissed back, holding his angry stare until he swallowed hard. “I’ll change immediately and do my duties.” It felt like he’d backhanded me with his words, and swallowing my reply burned my throat as I took it without argument.
Turning on my heel, I left the room in long, angry strides that took me as far away from him and the heads of the horde houses as quickly as possible before I shoved my four-inch heels down his throat. Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what I expected. Maybe I’d asked for it by blurting out what I had upon entry before I’d noted who was around the table. But between learning to handle the never-ending pain that rushed through me in waves and the war breathing down my neck, I didn’t think much before I acted. I was scared and hurting, and it wasn’t a good combination.
I could see his point of view. Hell, I had been in his place and knew the horde was full of treacherous, unfaithful fuck-faces. However, he didn’t get to treat me like I was nothing. Ryder didn’t get to argue about my clothes; you simply did not hunt shit down in a fucking dress. What the hell did he want? Me on my knees, sucking him off as the horde watched? Fuck that noise.
I had done everything he’d asked without question, even though most of those tasks had been things the servants were already doing. Like make sure they had fed the horses. We had a fucking stable full of horses, and stable-hands tended them! He was in battle mode, fine, whatever.
I didn’t deserve to be treated like his slave, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t stand for that kind of treatment in front of his counsel. He’d changed them, too, in the last few days, another thing he’d failed to inform me. I wasn’t on his team. He was a war party of one, and I was the odd man out by his choice.
I paused as Darynda came into view. “Where are the other women?”
“In the women’s parlor, drinking tea,” she replied softly, noting the way my eyebrows pinched together. “Most are unhappy, so basically, it’s a bitch session, as you refer to it. The men have been issuing orders and doing so in a manner in which we’re not very pleased. We didn’t want to bother you.” Seeing my expression, she frowned. “Is everything okay? You seem tense, Synthia.”
“I am dealing with the King of Assholes treating me like I should lick his boots clean.” Exhaling my resolve, I began marching down the hall. “Let’s go. Call the other handmaidens to the parlor, please.”
“Would you like me to have the kitchen send up refreshments?” She pushed her red curls away from her face, waiting for my reply.
“No, but have some drinks sent to the council in the throne room. Make sure it’s the horde’s best liquor.” A wicked thought came to me, and I smirked, “Actually, Ryder had some stashed away for a special celebration, so use that. Have some sandwiches delivered as well. They must be so hungry with all their manly war planning. Also, make sure they are all comfortable. Take them some pillows for their pompous asses to sit upon. We can’t have them getting overstressed, now can we?” I hesitated, watching her frown deepen. “Is there a problem with my orders, Darynda?”
“It’s just that the head of the horde houses are down there, and Ryder asked rather explicitly to not be disturbed.”
“Then make sure the king is made aware that as the queen’s duty, I am making sure that he and the men are well-fed and supplied with drinks. We are ensuring they’re happy and in good health. If he doesn’t like it, he can suck on a fucking fairy cow’s farting ass.”
“Okay, but I don’t have to say the last part, right?” Her stare widened with fear, and it gave me pause enough to exhale, shaking my head.
Watching Darynda walk away with her shoulders slumped, I silently counted to ten, tightening my hands into fists at my sides as I let my anger deflate. Ryder had been saving that alcohol for some time now, hiding it from everyone to drink during a celebration. It would piss him off, and that made me happy. I smirked, imagining the look on his face when he realized his secret stash was being dished out to people he didn’t even like.
> Instead of sifting into the parlor, I walked the rest of the way, enjoying the clicking sound of the heels I’d chosen, even if Ryder didn’t like them. I entered the room in a swirl of frustrated anger, and everyone stopped talking. The moment I arrived, they all went silent, and that irked me, too.
“Continue, don’t stop bitching on my account,” I stated, taking a seat in the high-back chair I’d brought from my old apartment. I hadn’t been able to walk back into that apartment after what had happened, but Alden had gotten it for me. No one spoke, and I chuckled darkly. “Please, tell me what your asshole mates have been up to, so I don’t feel so bad when I tell you what my king has been telling me,” I insisted, fighting to keep my power within me, instead of acting like Ryder when he wanted to intimidate me.
“Blane argued that I should be moved into the tower until this child is born,” Ciara seethed. “Can you imagine being in that place for weeks? Like, I’m not a fucking damsel. I’m the mother of fucking dragons!” She swung one arm through the air while still bouncing Fury, though a little faster in her anger. Not that he minded at all. He waved his arms happily, making bubbles with his lips, staring at the women with an innocent smile.
“Well, as long as winter isn’t coming, you can be the mother of dragons,” I muttered, holding up my hands in mock surrender, and Icelyn coughed, choking on her tea. We all turned to look at her, and my lips tightened with the smile I tried to restrain.
Embracing Destiny Page 7