Freed

by Samantha Britt

  Brion protected me during the second rebel attack. He’d acted on instinct: the instinct of someone sharing a gliminee bond. How could I have been so blind? Brion had pushed me away, but he’d always drawn me close when it came to my safety. He hadn’t wanted his father to learn what I meant to him. The king was cruel, and he’d use me against his eldest son.

  But being forced to keep me near for my safety only exacerbated Brion’s problem. Mine too. We couldn’t deny the connection we shared. Though, it had confused and scared me in equal measure, I felt something for the frightening draekon prince.

  Once the words were spoken between us, once we shared how we truly felt, I’d never been so happy. All the trials that had been forced upon me suddenly didn’t seem so terrible. Brion was my match. I was his. And I would be damned if I let anything happen to him.

  Brion shifted beneath me. I opened my eyes and gasped when I saw Brion and I were encompassed in a bright, golden light. A quick glance confirmed none of the guards had burst into the tent. The thick canvas blocked the light.

  “Lissa?” A strangled, raw, voice broke the silence. I wanted to weep with joy. Brion’s eyes were open, and he was staring at me like he was seeing a ghost. The bruise around his left eye had faded.

  I put my fingers against his lip, and the gold light around us dimmed. Brion was healed. My light had healed him. Except for the burns on his wrists. I couldn’t treat those until the shackles were gone.

  “Shh,” I said, my eyes burning with tears. “You must keep your voice down. We don’t want the guards to hear us.”

  Confusion lingered in Brion’s face until I mentioned guards. Then, reality set in his features as he remembered what happened. He frowned. Hard. “What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you.” I sat back, no longer pressing my head to his. I reassessed the shackles, then looked at my hands, calling forth elven bolts.

  “What are you doing?” Brion sounded mildly alarmed. He knew I wouldn’t hurt him, but he also knew the pain such power could cause. I winced, hating to remind him of what he’d suffered, but seeing no way around it. “I’m going to break the shackles. Sit up.”

  Brion pushed himself up, and his eyes widened at how easy it was. He stared at his body for several seconds, then met my gaze. “You healed me?”

  I smiled. “I’ve gotten pretty good at using my elven powers.” I gestured to his wrists with my glowing hands. “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course,” he didn’t hesitate. He lifted his arms and held them out to me. I cringed as the metal clanked together and swung my eyes to the tent’s opening. No guard entered.

  I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes. The power continued to flicker across the metal, singeing Brion’s flesh when it made contact. I’d never seen an object embedded with elven magic. I didn’t know how to cancel its damaging effects. My plan had been to strike it with a bolt, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I decided to try and draw the power out of the metal. It would be quieter and less likely to alert the guards.

  Brion tensed as I reached out to touch the metal. He sighed when nothing happened. So did I.

  The power didn’t hurt me. That was a good sign I would be able to handle it. No normal elven power could hurt me, but if my mother had been the one to spell the shackles, there was a very good chance hers could damage me.

  I called on my coil of inner power to seek out the magic in the shackles and pull it to me. I grinned like a mad woman when I began to see the shimmering power creep along the metal, towards my touch.

  A jolt of agony stabbed my arm as the first glimmer of power entered my fingers. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, but Brion saw the pain flicker across my face.

  “Lissa?”

  I ignored him. Closing my eyes, I continued to draw the power into myself. It was excruciating. The damage was superficial, I could tell that much, but it was painful nonetheless. The magic wasn’t natural, it was some kind of twisted elven ability. My mother must be powerful.

  Sweat rolled down my face. Brion was speaking, urging me to stop, but he didn’t pull away. I wonder if he had the ability, or if the link between me and the shackles kept us together.

  What felt like hours later, the last of the power entered my body, and I was free to release the shackles.

  I fell backward. Before my head could hit the dirt, Brion was there, leaning over me as he caught me by my shoulders. Broken chains dangled from the manacles, and I saw his raw wrists begin to mend.

  “Lissa, you fool.” Brion pulled me forward until my head was pressed against his chest. “It hurt you. Why didn’t you stop?” His hands ran over my hair and back, wanting to soothe me as well as touch me. My body hummed happily. It’d been too long since I felt his comforting touch—too long since I was in his arms.

  “I’ll be fine,” I mumbled against his dirty, torn tunic. “Just… give me a moment.”

  Brion pulled me back to look into my eyes. Shock rippled through me as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against mine with a fierce, but loving, force.

  My energy renewed, I leaned forward and returned the kiss. My arms snaked around his neck, and I got to my knees so my face would be level with his.

  Brion’s hand cradled the back of my head. He broke our kiss briefly. “I missed you.” Then, he resumed kissing me.

  My soul sang. He’d missed me. I’d been wrong to doubt him. He’d missed me like I’d missed him.

  “You never wrote back to me,” he said in between our lips pressing together.

  “I never received your letters.” My fingers dug into his hair, longer now than when I’d last seen him. “Leith intercepted them.”

  Brion leaned back. “I see.” Insecurity lingered in his eyes, the same emotion I’d experienced. Brion had thought I’d abandoned him. Nothing could’ve been farther from the truth.

  I smiled and cupped his cheek. “I missed you too, Brion.”

  His thumb caressed the pulse on my neck. “You shouldn’t have come here. You were safe on Avelin.”

  “You’re in danger. There is no other place for me to be than right here.”

  Brion licked his lips and averted his gaze, staring at the ground. “I’d hoped you couldn’t sense such things.”

  “I didn’t. Leith traveled to Avelin. He’s the one who told me of your capture.”

  Brion’s gaze returned to me. His forehead creased. “Leith? But he is part of the rebellion.”

  “Yes, but part of his plan is for the rebellion to negotiate with the next ruler of Draekon. You.”

  “Me?” Brion blinked as he tried to digest the information. “But the rebellion wants to destroy the monarchy. They don’t want draekon to rule.”

  “I think Leith may have different, less disruptive plans,” I admitted. “You’ll have to ask him for the details, but I believe the hope is to change the way society is governed in Draekon, without destroying too much of the established order.”

  Brion’s head swung from side to side. He couldn’t believe it. That’s all right. I couldn’t either.

  “Let’s worry about all that later,” I told him, guiding his eyes back to mine. “We need to get you out of here. Min and Leith are waiting in the forest.” I wouldn’t mention his execution. It felt like bad luck to even speak of it.

  His eyes softened. “You really came all this way to save me?”

  “I’d do anything for you,” I confessed without reservation. It was the truth. There’d never be another for me. Brion was it, and I was determined for us to survive the coming storm. Together.

  Brion leaned forward and pressed another stomach-twisting kiss against my mouth. We’d had such little time together; I couldn’t wait until there was no mystery of when our next kiss would be. I couldn’t wait for our trials to be behind us.

  I deepened the kiss, imagining all I wanted to do with Brion, in this moment and the future. Brion responded in kind, a throaty growl passing his lips, making my toes curl.

  I lost myself in the mome
nt. I didn’t hear the tent flap open.

  “Well, well. This is certainly a surprise.”

  32

  One minute, I was wrapped in Brion’s arms, drowning in desire from his kiss. The next, I was picked up and spun around so I was safely positioned behind his back. His stance was menacing, as was the snarl ripped from his throat. His muscles flexed, and his hands trembled with fury. Gone was all evidence of our tender moment. Brion was every inch a dominating draekon prince.

  I leaned to the side to see who’d interrupted us. I needed to know the threat and figure out how to escape. A gasp escaped as I took in the sight of the stunning blonde woman blocking the light from the rising sun. Her eyes were a piercing blue, and her body was lithe and graceful as she stepped inside. Her worn pants and too-big tunic did not detract from her beauty. There was no question who she was. My mother. Princess Lassandra of Avelin.

  A tall, dark-haired man entered behind her. He, too, wore worn clothing, but his fit him perfectly. The newcomer waved a staying hand at the guards outside the tent, then allowed the fabric to close. We were cast into darkness, but not for long. The man produced a flint and he lit the bundle of dry grass in the corner. He took the illuminated strands and walked to the other side of the tent, lighting that stack of grass, as well. A gentle glow now filled the space, allowing me to see without needing draekon eyes.

  The stranger moved confidently back to stand at my mother’s side. I didn’t recognize him, but he must be my father. Arthur Allaway, the draekon soldier who’d abandoned his unit to run away with the elven princess, stood there like my mother’s personal bodyguard. He would not hesitate to jump in front of Lassandra to save her, not even if it meant his own death.

  It was funny. To anyone else, Brion and I might look like an exact copy of my parents, even down to Brion’s selfless protection of me.

  But we weren’t copies. We were very different. For one, I would never condemn a man to death for the sins of his father. And no matter what my mother said, that was exactly what she intended to do.

  “Amelissa,” my mother’s voice was soft and light. It warred with the harsh set of her eyes. “At last, we are reunited.”

  I didn’t speak. Instead, my hands found their way to Brion’s back. I pressed my fingers against him, letting him know I was there and I was on his side.

  Lassandra’s lips twitched, but she quickly concealed the reaction. “Do you have nothing to say to your mother and father after all these years?”

  “No,” I bit out. “I don’t.”

  She tsked. “Stubborn, I see. Just as Arlin said.”

  I didn’t take her bait. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of asking after my brother.

  My father stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of my mother. “We are not your enemy, Lissa. Please, step away from our prisoner.” Unlike my mother, I didn’t recognize his voice at all. I wondered if he’d left us before my mother had.

  “Don’t call me that.” I always found it annoying when people used my nickname without my permission. I’d even been annoyed when Brion started doing it. Though, at the time, I’d been too afraid of him to demand he stop.

  Arthur winced. I ignored it. I refused to feel sorry for him.

  He tried again, “Amelissa, please step away from the prisoner. He is dangerous.”

  “He is my mate.” There. I’d said it. There was no going back now.

  My father took a step back. Something told me that was the equivalent of him falling over with shock.

  Based on the slight flex in Brion’s back, my outburst had surprised him, too. My mother kept a neutral expression.

  My father composed himself. “He is our enemy. The prince of draekon would never mate with a half-blood.” He spoke like he knew what he was saying.

  “You do not know me,” Brion growled. I couldn’t have begun to describe the depth of anger he showed in those words.

  My mother touched my father’s arm. He stepped back. Lassandra stood with her hands gently clasped in front of her. She was trying to appear peaceful and non-threatening. It didn’t work. I braced myself for whatever trick she had up her large sleeves.

  “Your father would never agree to you mating with a low, no name, half-blood.” I cringed away from the insults. My mother’s eyes narrowed. She continued, “You would defy him? You would risk your father’s wrath, all to be with my daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  Doubt pierced the air around us. “Why?”

  I answered for Brion. “Because we share a gliminee bond.”

  It was my father who reacted first. “Impossible.” He muttered in a low, disbelieving whisper.

  “I assure you,” Brion replied with another growl, “It is not. Lissa is mine. My father has no say.”

  My father and Brion were locked in an intense stare down. Neither male looked ready to yield anytime soon, but my gut said they wouldn’t do anything to hurt each other. Not with me and my mother in the tent.

  The thought brought my attention to Lassandra. She was staring at me with an odd expression. It was the first real reaction she’d shown since walking into the tent.

  After a moment, she asked, “Are you certain it’s not possible?”

  “No,” Arthur snarled, clearly angry at himself for his own response. “I don’t know. Gliminee bonds are rare, so rare since the days of the elven curse. There is no way to know if their words are true.”

  “They are,” I snapped, irritated with their denial. “I can hear Brion when he wishes to speak into my mind. He knows where I am, and if I’m in danger.”

  “All things which could be faked,” my father stated.

  I could see the determination in my parents’ eyes. They wanted to end Brion. More accurately, they wanted to end King Roderick’s influence over the continent, and one way they saw that happening was to kill the draekon using his body to shield me. But I wasn’t the one in danger.

  Tapping into my draekon strength, I held Brion in place as I stepped in front of him. I grabbed his hands and put them on my hips, knowing he’d want to keep touching me. It would give him the impression he could save me if anything happened.

  I could feel Brion’s disapproval in the grip of his fingers, but he didn’t try to move me behind him again. He, too, had figured out who was really in danger.

  I cleared my throat. “If you kill him, I will never forgive you.”

  Lassandra frowned. “What makes you think I require forgiveness?” Her words were cold. She no longer tried to come off as non-threatening. She led the rebellion. She couldn’t do that without having iron in her veins. “Everything I’ve done has been to your benefit, whether you can see it or not. I won’t stop doing what is right simply because you believe you have a connection to this draekon.” Beside her, my father remained silent.

  I couldn’t believe it. She would really kill Brion even after hearing what I said.

  Lassandra was so caught up in her own plans that she couldn’t see the damage she would inflict if she followed through with it. She truly didn’t care about my feelings.

  I lost my temper.

  “What about Lorie and Lin? What do you think they will say when I tell them you killed my mate? The same mate who spared Lin’s life, let Lorie escape Draek with him, and who protected me when King Roderick would’ve murdered me?” Red descended across my vision. I’d never been so furious.

  “What do you think the draekon and half-draekon you have working with the rebellion will think when I tell them you murdered Prince Brion in cold blood when he was willing to work with you to come to a peaceful arrangement?” My shoulders are pulled back, and my chin is high. “Brion is not his father. He loves him, but he doesn’t agree with his cruelty. The rebellion could start a new society, one in which Brion’s rule placates the draekon still set in the old ways but makes space for a new era of equality and justice. You will be destroying all hope of victory for the rebellion if you murder the male I am in love with. You will prove to all of Draek
on that rebels are nothing more than a band of criminals, filled with greed and malice. Any sympathy you’ve garnered will disappear into a puff of smoke, and King Roderick will be destined to rule for many more years to come.”

  Arthur gasped. Quick as lightening, my mother whirled to face him, concern twisted her carefully neutral expression. Clearly, she cared for my father. “Arthur? What is it?”

  My father didn’t turn to her. His attention rested on Brion, and disbelief filled his eyes. “The Prophecy. You’re the son of the prophecy.”

  I felt Brion recoil behind me.

  “I am not.”

  “You are,” Arthur insisted. “Your father has feared it for years. I wondered why he would send his heir to fight the rebellion—why he would endanger your life by making you the general of his army. It all makes sense. He wants you to die. For that reason,” he turned to my mother, “we cannot be the ones to kill him. We cannot play into Roderick’s hands. I’m sorry, my love, I should’ve seen it before.”

  Was he really apologizing to my mother for not being able to kill my mate? What had happened to my parents to twist their souls to make such evil deeds so easy to do?

  My mother stared at my father. I held my breath. Brion wrapped his arms around me, pressing my back into his chest. I might’ve not liked the reasoning behind sparing Brion’s life, but I would take it. As long as he lived, I would take it.

  “Very well,” my mother said on a sigh. “Prince Brion will not die from our hands.”

  I slumped with relief. Brion kissed the top of my head. Then, he said, “I will not kill my father.”

  I stiffened. What was he doing? Did he want them to change their minds and kill him?

  Neither of my parents reacted. In an eerily calm voice, my mother stated, “Then you will be our prisoner for the foreseeable future.”

  “Guards,” my father called out.