Emerald Rose

by Emma Hamm

  Then only silence.

  She coughed, weakly holding onto her throat and wheezing in deep breaths. “Raphael,” her voice didn’t sound like her own.

  His shoulders heaved in answering breaths and he looked over his shoulder at her. “Danielle.”

  “Who was that?”

  He strode toward her and gathered her up in his arms. “A nightmare, ma tigresse.”

  Chapter 26

  Raphael held her against his heartbeat and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Her hair was silken against his chin, but even that delicate touch couldn’t dispel his fear.

  The alchemist dared touch her? Danielle was his and his alone. No one else could hurt her, touch her, feel the softness of her skin against theirs.

  The sudden, powerful desire to claim her as his own surprised him. He’d taken her from her father, yes, but he hadn’t thought it was because he desired her so. And yet, he did. He wanted her to look at him with love in her eyes. He wanted her to trust him like no other.

  How was he supposed to get her to trust him when the alchemists were trying to kill her? He wanted to fly down, find the man’s body, and pull it limb from limb. Perhaps if he hung the pieces from every corner of his kingdom, the alchemists would recognize his threat.

  She shook in his arms, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “Raphael?”

  His name on her tongue was the haunting call of an owl at night, magical words calling him to a fairy circle. “What is it, Danielle?”

  She pulled back and stared into his eyes. Hers were larger than he’d ever seen them and filled with tears. “You know the creature who attacked me, don’t you?”

  He nodded, albeit slowly. He didn’t want her to think he’d hired the creature to attack her. The last thing he ever wanted was to lose what little trust she’d given him.

  “Then tell me what it was.”

  “I don’t think you want to know,” he replied, then cleared his throat in discomfort.

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think I needed to know.” She pulled herself out of his arms and wrapped her own around herself. “Tell me.”

  It stung to think she didn’t want his comfort but preferred her own. He supposed she might not feel the connection between them, at least, not in the same way he did.

  She’d given him his memories back. She’d given him back details about who he was, not just who he could be or what he might have been once in his life. Perhaps she’d never understand how much that meant, or how special she’d become to him.

  Raphael forced his arms to stay at his side and not pull her back into the safety of his grip. “They’re called the alchemists. No one knows where they came from, or how they came to be. Only that when I was created, they were here.”

  Her brows wrinkled. He could already see the questions bubbling to the surface.

  Never one to disappoint, Danielle launched into her interrogation. “When you were born?”

  “Created.” Raphael shrugged. “It’s the same thing.”

  “No, it’s not. Being born means you know who your parents are, where you came from, or at the very least, that you grew into the person you were.” She stared at him with those wide eyes still filled with tears. “If you were created, then you were once something other than what you are now.”

  He’d never thought of it like that before. He was just the Emperor of the Dread. Raphael knew there were other Dread in different kingdoms, he’d never contacted them though. Such contact was forbidden by the laws of...

  His mind blanked. What laws? Raphael had never heard of any laws for his people, nor had he ever thought about them. Which meant the laws were made up. Or perhaps that someone else had put such things in his head.

  He struggled to think of the right words to respond to her. Finally, he opened his mouth and indulged her curiosity. “I don’t know the answers, Princess. I only remember waking up as the monster you see now.”

  “But you remember small details you’ve already told me. Siblings. Your name.”

  She was right. So many things she said differed from anyone else here.

  All the Dread followed the alchemists. They understood the creatures were far more powerful and fighting them was a fool’s errand. The Dread followed the strongest. Their creed had always worked for them, and yet... now it seemed wrong.

  “The alchemists were the ones who created all of us. They deserve a measure of respect for giving us life.” He repeated the words which had been said to him so many times. Raphael reached back and scrubbed his neck. “However, now I wonder how much of that is the truth.”

  She copied his movement and touched a hand to her blood streaked neck. “I don’t like them, but with an introduction like this, it’s hard to consider them friends.”

  His gaze locked on her movements and all thoughts fled from his mind. She was hurt, and it was his fault because he’d allowed the beasts into his home. He’d allowed them to stay when they should have been banished forever.

  Raphael strode forward and reached for her neck. It didn’t escape his notice that his touch didn’t make her flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin back and exposed the long, swan-like length to his clawed hands.

  Clawed hands which shook at her trust.

  He touched a single finger to her throat. Just one which he slid through the blood coating her lily white skin. Blood which never should have touched her.

  Suddenly, he couldn’t think of anything other than removing all proof another man had touched her. That another creature had harmed her, and he hadn’t been able to get to her fast enough.

  Bursting into movement, Raphael scooped her up into his arms. He ignored her squeak of surprise and rushed out of the cave. He couldn’t stay in this room filled with dark visions.

  Instead of going deeper into the Hollows, he flew higher to the one place where he knew no one would bother them.

  Raphael landed on the ledge which led to Blacksmith’s private chambers, unused and collecting dust. Blacksmith was far more comfortable in the forge.

  “Where are we?” Danielle asked, but he didn’t give her an answer. His throat closed with emotions he couldn’t swallow.

  He brushed aside the woven door and held his wings tight against his back. Together, he took them to the back of the cave, which looked similar to his own. A bed of furs in the back, a warm fire burning in the center, weapons on the walls.

  He sat her down by the fire, stole a scrap of fabric from the bed, and then returned to her side.

  A bucket of water sat by the fire, likely to be boiled for Blacksmith’s dinner. He’d have to suffer through getting another bucket as Raphael dunked the scrap of fabric into it with little qualms.

  He reached forward and cupped the back of Danielle’s neck with his free hand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  If his voice was guttural when he responded to her, it was because he was still angry at the alchemists. Not because he was overcome with her scent and the soft hair at the nape of her neck. “Don’t move, princess.”

  He swept the cool, damp cloth over her neck. Pale skin was revealed as the blood was removed. Every swipe of the fabric showed him more of the beautiful woman he’d known was under there.

  Her throat worked in a swallow. He could hear her heart thundering in her chest, but he didn’t think it was from fear. Not her. She feared nothing, and if she did, she set the emotion aside until she could deal with it on her own.

  He admired that about her. No matter what was thrown at Danielle, she always turned it into something she could control. Something which strengthened her.

  The trickling of water filled the chamber, along with their quiet inhalations. They both held their breath as he cleaned every drop of blood from her neck.

  Raphael wondered what she was thinking. If her muscles were also locked with the revelation of being in each other’s presence. If she wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss her. To remind himself she was alive and well
. That she hadn’t died. That he wasn’t too late.

  His hands started shaking again, but this time she reached up and stilled his movements. “I think it’s all gone,” she murmured.

  “I can still see it.”

  Every time he blinked, he saw that monster on her bed, holding her down as her legs kicked behind him. And he grew angry all over again, even though anger did nothing to help the situation now.

  The alchemist was dead. He’d thrown him off the ledge and into the darkness of the abyss. He couldn’t hurt her again.

  But the others could, and he was the one who had allowed them to stay.

  Raphael swallowed hard and let the fabric drop from his grasp. “I don’t think I’ll ever not see it.”

  “Stop,” she whispered, holding his hand against her face, tight and safe. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened, Raphael.”

  “I let them stay here.”

  “And you will make them leave.” She squeezed his hand. “The actions of others are not your fault. They make their own decisions, regardless of your counsel. You can’t blame yourself.”

  He could, though. And he would for the rest of his life knowing that he could have been the reason for her death.

  He shifted closer to her. His knees were on either side of her hips, his head bent down so he could press his forehead against hers. His broken horn ached with remembered pain. He shifted his hand down and touched her bruised throat. “Does it hurt?”

  “He was less strong than you,” she replied with a chuckle.

  Raphael knew he was meant to laugh. She brought up their history as a joke. But he only felt his heart squeeze even harder at the memory. He’d tried to kill her.

  He was no better than the monsters who had made him.

  Swallowing hard, he kept the warmth of his palm against her throat, which must have ached. Her voice was hoarse from the mistreatment. Had it sounded like this after he’d attacked her? Had she wheezed for breath, and hidden the strange, warped tone of her voice? He’d seen the bruises himself, known that she hid them with makeup.

  He hadn’t felt guilt long ago, but now he was consumed by it.

  To his ultimate horror, tears burned the edges of his eyes. They built until he feared to even blink else they fall into her lap.

  Gruffly, he said, “I should never have attacked you, princess. My greatest apologies and my soul as payment.”

  “Your soul?” she laughed. “I told you, I don’t want your soul, Raphael. Our history is one of mistakes and judgements before we knew each other. I don’t blame you for what you did.”

  “You should.”

  “No.” Danielle shifted closer, then dropped her hold on his hand. She reached between them and cupped his face in her hands. “I won’t. You protect your kingdom and your people first. I respect that.”

  “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life,” he murmured, reveling in her touch. She didn’t hesitate or recoil at his visage. Instead, she still held him as dear and close as a friend. “You shouldn’t forgive me for those either.”

  “I’m the only one who should forgive you. I’m the one who means the most, don’t I?”

  The question struck at his heart and landed hard. She knew.

  Rather than hide from the feelings, he nodded in response. “You mean more than the sun and the moon.”

  “And all the stars in the sky,” she whispered in response.

  Danielle held his face still and leaned up. She pressed her lips against his in a kiss sweeter than honey and healing as a cool balm. “I forgive you, Raphael. You are my protector, my emperor, and the man who has changed who I am for the better. I only wish you could forgive yourself.”

  He leaned into the kiss, into her mouth, and the softness of her forgiveness. He’d never forgive himself, but her gift to him healed the wounds in his soul.

  “Now,” she said, “make them leave.”

  Chapter 27

  Raphael told himself to remain calm and collected. The alchemists were powerful with their words and far more intelligent than the Dread. They had been around for a very long time, and if they sensed weakness in him, they would devour him whole.

  But how was he supposed to remain in control when all he could see were hands around Danielle’s throat?

  He could still hear her soft gurgles as she struggled. She’d fought, as he had yet to teach her, and she had nearly won.

  The alchemist was stronger than her, however. And he had many years of blood magic to make it even easier for him to kill her if he’d wanted to. And he had. The ecstasy on his face had been clear.

  Raphael flew to the hidden quarters where the rest of the alchemists were likely waiting for their man’s return. At the last second, Raphael turned away.

  He didn’t want to show up empty-handed. They were expecting a report from the man they had sent to kill Danielle.

  If he knew anything about their kind, it was that they never acted without orders.

  He dipped deep into the abyss and found the body of the alchemist he’d thrown from the ledge. The man was little more than pulp and a bag of broken bones.

  Raphael’s chest swelled with pride knowing the man hadn’t a chance to fight. Although, he desired the death to be a little more painful.

  Snarling, he lifted the body into his arms and shot back into the air. If the other Dread saw him holding the body of an alchemist, they could think what they wanted. Let the rumors spread.

  Perhaps it would give the others a sense of peace knowing he was finally doing something about the terrifying creatures who plagued them. Perhaps the Dread would gossip they were finally free.

  Because they were about to be.

  He landed on the ledge and prepared himself for the battle which would occur. The alchemists would shout and spew threats, but he’d never seen them perform magic before.

  They claimed much of their abilities. Now, he wasn’t certain they were as powerful as they claimed. The alchemists wanted everyone to think their magic was legendary. And a long time ago, they might have been.

  Weakness was a poison. It could spread between good men and women, turning them into mewling creatures hiding in the shadows. He tightened his claws on the body in his hands.

  If they were so powerful, this alchemist could have prevented himself from falling. He would have attempted to kill Danielle in some way far more complex than choking her.

  Something was going on with the alchemists, and Raphael intended to find out.

  So, instead of hiding his rage and burying it deep within his chest so they would never see it, he released it. The white hot emotion ignited, sending veins of flames through his arms and causing the sawed off end of his horn to ache as though it were growing. As though his body sensed the fight and wanted every weapon at its disposal.

  He bared his teeth in a snarl and charged forward into the caves where the alchemists were waiting.

  They were all seated around a fire, their bloodied cloaks creating pools around them. They held small, wooden bowls in their hands, although it didn’t appear they were eating. The soft scratch of fingernails against wood mixed with their quiet murmurs. The lecherous creatures didn’t even look up as he moved toward them.

  “Is it done?” the leader asked.

  They thought he was the alchemist? They didn’t even consider the Dread might find out their plan and would stop them? Again, the anger swelled so high in his throat he couldn’t speak.

  Raphael threw the body across the chamber. It thudded on the ground by the nearest alchemist, limp and pathetic. Blood leaked from the man’s cracked skull and joined with the red fluid surrounding his brethren.

  What little sound had filled the cavern ceased. All the empty hoods turned and stared at the dead man.

  The leader shifted, his robe moving faster with agitation. He stared at Raphael, and Raphael stared back.

  He would not be intimidated. Not today.

  Raphael flexed his wings, spreading them wide. The dim light turne
d them from lavender to dark violet in the corner of his vision. He opened his hands wide, stretched his long claws and hissed through his teeth.

  This seemed to get some kind of response from the alchemists. A few of them stood, but it was the leader who was brave enough to step forward and check on the man. He bent low, pressed his fingers against the dead man’s throat, and then let out a soft hum.

  “What is this?” the leader asked.

  Raphael hadn’t hidden what he’d done, nor would he apologize for it. He growled, “He touched something of mine. Something which may not be touched.”

  “You didn’t tell us the girl was here. She is dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” Raphael let out a humorless laugh. “She’s nothing more than a princess. A pawn in this game. She has no claws. No teeth. No training. But you are so afraid of her you send an assassin in the middle of the night? I thought you were all powerful.”

  “We are.” The leader stood and tucked his hands back into the folds of his shifting robe. “Perhaps you don’t understand that yet, but you will.”

  Raphael shook his head and stepped closer. The lumbering movement was filled with aggression and barely leashed rage. “No. You have no power, alchemist. I killed one of your own tonight, and I find the thirst for blood is upon me. You’ve created a monster. Now, that monster rises.”

  The leader lifted a hand to stop him. And though there was no magic pressing on his shoulders, no fight in the alchemist at all, Raphael still felt as though he needed to pause. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was some voice whispering in his ear. Or perhaps it was the age old chains wrapped around his shoulders.

  “We’ve seen a woman like this before,” the alchemist said. “In Little Marsh. I understand you have no memory, Emperor, but perhaps you will remember the name of that kingdom.”

  It was a small flicker in the back of his mind. Nothing more, nothing less. Inconsequential as the rest of the things he’d been told.