by K. A. Linde
Kerrigan had never met her grandmother, but besides her genius, not much was said about her. She imagined the cold, hard green eyes from the painting downstairs and believed wholeheartedly that she had been a tough mistress.
“Unfortunately for her, I fell in love with a commoner.”
“Scandalous,” Kerrigan said.
“It wouldn’t have been if I’d had taken as my mistress. No one cared about status when it was just sex.”
Kerrigan held up her hand. “I don’t want to know who you’re sleeping with.”
He laughed softly and nodded. “Fair. But it was more than that. I was in love with her, and I wanted to marry her. I thought I could get away with it if I won the tournament and forsook my Season.”
“But you didn’t win,” Kerrigan whispered.
“No,” he said, taking another puff on his cigar. “I didn’t. Nor did I marry.”
“Well, what happened to the girl?”
“I brought her to the tournament. I got her accommodations in the Square so that she could be near the mountain. We ignored the warnings of her family and the distaste from mine. We were young and stupid.” He shrugged. “You have that propensity too, I hear.”
Kerrigan shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.
Kivrin breathed in the smoke again. “Behind my back, she began to see another man.”
“No,” she gasped.
Kivrin nodded. “By the end of the tournament, she broke my heart, married another, and left me with nothing. I lost the Society and the girl I’d believed to be the love of my life in one fell swoop.”
“That’s terrible,” Kerrigan murmured.
He laughed mockingly. “That man was Lorian Van Horn.”
Kerrigan blinked. “Wait, Alura’s mother is a Bryonican commoner?”
“Yes. Anya Van Horn used to be Anya de Leland. She’s from Lillington in fact.”
“Gods, no wonder you hate Lorian.”
Kivrin tipped his head at her. “He’s earned every ounce of my hatred.”
“Mine too.”
“Ah, yes, we would have that in common.”
“But… how does this explain why you abandoned me?”
“I’m getting there,” Kivrin said. “I was a wreck, as you can imagine, after what happened with Anya. It was how I gained my reputation as the playboy prince. When your grandmother passed, the House of Cruse went out of favor with the throne. Your great-grandfather had been king in his own right, and with my desolation and lack of marriage or heir, I had nothing to offer. For a time, it was all I could do to hold my head above water and keep others from invading our borders.” Kivrin shrugged and took another drag from the cigar. “Things eventually settled, and there was talk of me marrying again to secure the line. I had no interest. To escape, I told the court that I was going on a five-year journey of the continent.” He glanced to her and then away. “That’s how I met your mother.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “She was living in another tribe?”
“Of sorts.” He paused to consider and then continued, “She was married.”
Kerrigan sighed. “Father!”
“I know. At the time, it didn’t seem to matter.”
“Of course you’d say that.”
He shrugged. “I was in a low place. She was unlike anyone else I’d ever met in my life. Her husband found out about our relationship and nearly beat me to death.”
Kerrigan froze. She’d seen this. The man larger than life who had beaten her father while a woman screamed in the background of her nightmares. The vision she’d had at her bonding that made no sense at the time. Was it possible that she’d seen reality?
“This man,” Kerrigan said quietly, “was he massively tall with blond hair and wearing a white almost drape across him?”
Kivrin froze. His calm demeanor disappearing as true horror crossed his face. He dropped the cigar and grasped her by both shoulders in alarm. “You have seen him?”
“No,” Kerrigan said quickly. “I… I had a vision of him. I saw it at my bonding ceremony.”
“Gods,” he said, releasing her and running a hand back through his hair. “If you see this man, you must run at all costs. Tell me you will run, Kerrigan. Promise me.”
“Kivrin, what are you talking about.”
“Promise me!” he demanded, shaking her slightly.
“All right,” she whispered. “I promise.
“I tried to protect you,” he said hollowly, releasing her. “Your mother made me leave after I was beaten. She showed up here nine months later with a baby girl in her arms. She told me to keep you safe and that if her husband found out, he would try to kill you.”
“And did he find out?”
Kivrin nodded slowly. “You had just turned five years old, and word reached me of a giant man in Lillington village. You were out riding, and I met you. I tried to remain calm and show you that everything would be okay. But then I bundled you up and ran. I told Helly that you were in danger, and we left you with the House of Dragons. You were far safer there than with me.”
Kerrigan held her breath. “Did he ever find you?”
Kivrin swallowed. “Yes. He came to Waisley shortly after I returned. It was why I’d spread the rumor that you’d disappeared. So, by the time he came calling, everyone already believed you were gone. I had to bury you or else he would keep looking.”
“But… but why? Why would he want to kill me?”
“Vulsan cares about one thing and one thing alone: power. The fact that you existed at all was anathema to him. I did what I could to protect you.” He put his hand out and covered Kerrigan’s. “I am so sorry that I made you believe you were not wanted all those years. I’ve always wanted you, but I wanted you to live more than my selfish desire for you to be my daughter.”
Kerrigan looked up into his eyes and saw the sincerity there for the first time. The act of playboy prince that he continued to wear to this day to keep her safe. To keep a crazed man from slaughtering her because of her very existence.
Tears welled in her eyes, and for the first time in twelve years, she stepped into her father’s embrace. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her tight. They couldn’t make up for the twelve years they’d lost, but they could at least start today on a new foundation.
41
The Village
“I don’t believe this is the best use of our time,” Fordham said.
“Well, I already promised that I’d go.”
Fordham crossed his arms over the black silk of his shirt. “What is this really about?”
Maybe she had. They’d stopped early the last two days and sat down for dinner with her father. She wasn’t improving, and the extra practices didn’t seem to matter, so she might as well spend the time with her father.
“I haven’t been to the village in twelve years, and they want me to join them, Fordham,” she said quietly. “I didn’t hate everything about Bryonica. I loved this house and my lands and my people. I don’t want to disappoint them. Surely, you can understand that.”
He nodded and sighed. “I can.”
“Good. Then, grab your coat, and let’s go.”
He muttered something under his breath but followed her out anyway. Warby had horses saddled for them, and she hoisted herself up into the saddle. The beast felt strangely small after riding Tieran all week. He was the smallest of the lot of dragons but still significantly bigger than a horse. She took up the reins and directed her horse out onto the road.
“If it were only this easy,” she grumbled.
“What’s that?” Fordham asked, trotting up next to her.
“Nothing.”
They continued the short ride to Lillington in silence. The village was a mere mile from Waisley. Likely the only reason her father had been able to carry on a relationship with a local girl without anyone knowing the extent of it. She was surprised to find that guards circled the village before they crossed into the village limits. She didn’t realize that her father ha
d a patrol this close to town.
The village was comprised of a few hundred cottages with thatched roofs and wooden doors, congregated around a central town square. A circular fountain took up the center of the square, lying dormant in the chill. It had been festooned with faerie lights and shimmering ribbons. The entire square had been transformed into a faerie dream world. Courtesy of her father, of course.
He’d clearly sent ahead enough decorations and food for the entire village. It was an incredible expense that she’d had no idea he was going to incur for her. Sure, he usually helped throw a party for his subjects, but she doubted it was anything this extravagant.
“My lady,” a man said as they pulled their horses to a stop. He bowed deeply. “May I assist you today?”
“Yes, please,” she said.
He helped her down and then took both horses away to be stabled.
An elderly woman approached then with a dozen littlings, each holding a string of frost drops—a white winter flower that only bloomed after a snowfall. They’d laced them together and made a small crown.
“It is with great pleasure that we welcome you back to the House of Cruse, my lady,” the woman said with a deep and powerful voice. She curtsied, and the littlings fell over themselves to follow. “We present you with the winter crown.”
“Oh, thank you,” Kerrigan said.
She bent down to allow one of the littlings to place the crown of flowers on her head. When she straightened, she felt a shift in the world. In faerie, symbols had meaning. The queen of Geivhrea with a crown of frost drops meant something to these people. And the world responded in kind, illuminating all of the faerie lights, intensifying the glitter on the ribbons, and brightening the smiles on all the village faces. If she had to guess, the food would taste better and the wine more potent. Nine months from now, there’d be a whole new cropping of littlings to look after. A blessing on the people since it was so hard to have Fae children in the first place.
“You bless us,” the woman said. “Come. Let us celebrate.”
Kerrigan walked into the center of Lillington just as the music started up and dancing transformed the square. They were local country dances, and she remembered every one of them as if she’d learned them yesterday. She’d always cursed Fae memory for how much she remembered about her time in Bryonica, but now, she was glad that she could keep up.
A smile crossed her face, and she grasped Fordham’s hand. “Well, princeling?”
He laughed. A real, joyful laugh. It made her toes curl. “As you wish, my lady.”
She flushed at the words before he caught her up and swung her into the dance. She didn’t need faerie punch to survive this, as she had in the House of Shadows. She didn’t need anything to enjoy Fordham’s company. Cut off from the constraints of his people and the Society, they could live in the moment. She was a princess for her people, and he, her prince consort for the evening. Everyone accepted that as fact, and for tonight, it was.
They stopped only long enough to dance and accept the toast before returning to the dance floor. Her father appeared at one point, and Kerrigan only realized it because the rest of the village paused at his approach. As if the power of him swelled and magnified what was around them.
But he came no farther, accepted no food or drink, nor did he offer a smile of his own. He just cast sad eyes upon the crowd and watched their merriment. Was he thinking of Anya? Had he spent a Geivhrea here with her? Had they been prince and princess of their holiday?
When she thought to ask him, she found he had already left. It was appropriate for him to appear before his subjects, but he didn’t owe anyone anything more. Especially with Kerrigan here in his stead.
She fell back into Fordham’s arms. The music slowed to a syrupy cascade that she melted into.
“What is that face?” Fordham asked. She scrunched her nose in response. “You seem sad.”
“I’m worried about my father.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe those words just left my mouth. I hated him for so long. It’s weird to have any other emotion related to him.”
“I’m glad that you’ve reconciled. You deserve to take back what was stolen from you.”
“I don’t know.”
He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “You do.”
“It’s just hard. I always thought he was ashamed of me.”
Kerrigan had confided in him about her problems with her father. He’d wanted to know why the sudden change of heart when she asked to start eating dinner with Kivrin.
“That’s what he wanted you to think. It was safer for you.”
She nodded. “I know that now. But I’m so confused.” Her eyes roamed Lillington’s square, all the people out here for her. This was the life she could have led. It was what she could have again. She voiced the treacherous thought. “Did I make a mistake by not returning to Bryonica?”
Fordham tugged her in closer. She rested her cheek against his chest. “It was the only choice you had at the time. Your father spent twelve years convincing you not to come back here. And he did it successfully. You would have picked anything over coming back.”
“Not anything. You.”
He held her closer in silence. Things neither of them could say hung heavy in the space between them.
As the party came to a close, the littlings were put to bed, lovers held each other tighter, and the magic of the evening faded. The faerie lights dimmed. The food was gone. The ribbons no longer glowed. Even her frost-drop crown withered on her head. Once picked, they only ever lasted the course of an evening.
She plucked the white flowers from her hair with a sigh. “It was lovely while it lasted.”
“Let’s get you back,” Fordham said, taking her hand and guiding her to the horses.
She let him help her back on the horse, and they leisurely took the road back home. They passed a contingent of guards again. They nodded their heads as Kerrigan passed with Fordham, and she smiled brightly at them. She was glad that her father’s men were protecting the village. It made her rest better at night.
Halfway back to Waisley, she decided that she wasn’t ready for the night to be over.
“Come with me,” she said, turning the horse off onto a well-worn path.
“Kerrigan,” he called. He huffed behind her from the path. “Where are we going?”
But she didn’t respond. Just kept leading the horse deeper into Corsica Forest. Then, she heard Fordham trot in after her.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he grumbled.
A smile quirked on her lips. She’d heard that before.
After fifteen minutes, she pulled off onto another trail, and the forest opened to reveal a series of pools. Despite the snow coating the ground and the chill in the air, none of them were frozen over.
“What is this place?” Fordham asked.
“The Corsican Hot Springs.”
Kerrigan dropped down and tied her horse to a nearby tree. Fordham did the same but with a furrowed brow. “I can see that. What are we doing here?”
Kerrigan answered by plucking at the laces on her dress. His eyes went wide as she dropped the dress onto the forest floor, leaving her in nothing but her shift.
42
The Hot Springs
“Kerrigan?” he said softly.
“I thought you were the one who didn’t care about nudity,” she challenged.
“Yes, but…”
She turned her back on him and let the shift drop. He sucked in a sharp breath as her bare backside was exposed. She hastily stepped into the water, letting the heat lick at her cold extremities. Once she was in up to her chin, she met Fordham’s eyes.
“Come on, princeling. I wasn’t ready for the party to be over.”
His jaw was set and his eyes hard. As if she’d tricked him into something he didn’t want. She opened her mouth to tell him that, of course, he didn’t have to come in, but then, he was jerking free the laces of his pants and stripping. When he’d
done so in their game, she’d watched with intent interest. But that had been a game, and this wasn’t. Her cheeks bloomed red, and she hastily faced away from him until she heard him gently splash into the water.
She slowly turned back to face him, her eyes snagging on the steam hugging tight to his abdominal muscles, the broad sweep of his shoulders, and then finally that stormy gaze, as inimitable as ever.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered, sliding backward into the water.
“Are we back to Challenge or Consequence?” He sank deeper into the pool as he approached her.
“Truth or Dare,” she teased. Her cheeks flared hot again as she thought about how far they had gotten in their consequence.
“A truth for a truth,” he countered.
She nodded, intrigued. “Okay. What are you thinking?”
“That a siren has ensnared me in these waters.”
Her breath caught. “Oh.”
He stepped forward again until there was only steam between them. His face was still a mask. If he hadn’t just said that he found her to be a siren, she’d never have guessed his true feelings.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I don’t know how you hide your true self so easily.”
He startled at her words. “I don’t.”
She choked out a laugh. “You do. You hide from everyone, even me.”
“I was raised to do it,” he admitted. “I’m not sure I could break the habit. It’s a defense mechanism.”
“Against me?”
He paused. “Especially you.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but he arched an eyebrow.
“I believe it’s my turn.”
She huffed. “Fine, princeling. Ask away.”
“What did you see in your bonding ceremony?”
The air left her lungs in a rush, as if she’d been punched. Of course he would ask the one question she hadn’t wanted to answer. The one that she’d taken a consequence for in their twisted little game. But it was just the two of them here. If she couldn’t trust Fordham, who could she trust?