15. Chapter Fourteen
15
Nicholas
A ttention, Nicholas always reveled in it. He did so now, standing at the head of a round table surrounded by the human generals, fae commanders, and Duke at his back. They crowded in the high tent. Melted wax fastened the candles to the table, their flames causing all to cast long shadows. A grin worthy of a beast spread over Nicholas’ features. The tent fell silent when he declared, “I can track Calix Fearworn.”
“How?” asked Herald Price, a man unworthy of the title of general. Duke expressed once that Herald had more than earned his position. Nicholas bet on those smooth hands and shivering disposition that Herald bought his position. Mortals so loved their gold coins and those with the most merely passed them along to get what they wanted.
“In ways I will not divulge to you, or anyone,” Nicholas replied. The room scoffed and cursed, arguments cultivating that he ignored. “It does not matter if I share for none other than I can track him.”
He listened to Fearworn now, the clinking of metal and shrieking of a beast. Making more monsters or perfecting them, no doubt. Hearing the world around him as well as Fearworn caused an ache at the base of his neck, the prick of a spear pushing on his spine.
“He works in the northeast, a couple days travel on fae feet, although I remain unclear on what to expect. This could be his base of operations or a monster encampment, but there are many beasts. Far more than we predicted and some we do not know, all surrounding the largest Scar I’ve ever seen. If they attack now, we would not be prepared for such numbers,” Nicholas explained.
“Then we send scouts first,” said General Wright, a far more respectable mortal than Price. Nicholas fought alongside Wright in battle twice. Unlike many, he rode toward death alongside his men and dealt deadly blows even fae had to respect. He wore those battles on his scarred skin and through the gray peppering his braided beard.
“If the fae commanders agree, let us send at least six fae to scout the area. Once they have a better lay of the land and forces, they will return to our encampment. We’ll determine what move to make afterward and the necessary troops to call in from the south,” Wright finished, his voice stern and authoritarian.
“Should we risk waiting?” Morrison argued, another general, younger, albeit scarred and hunched slightly. He turned his attention to Nicholas. “You claimed their forces are too great, that if they attacked now, we would be horribly outnumbered.”
Nicholas nodded and allowed the noise of Fearworn’s world to fade. He couldn’t manage the strain.
“Should we not remain as we are or retreat toward Lockehold to wait for further enforcement? There is no point calling troops that will end up replacing what we lost,” Morrison continued.
“Retreating is a waste of valuable energy. Our men may march all day only to be attacked when the sun falls. I think it best we remain where we are,” Wright countered.
“The fae commanders agree,” Amos Bloodbane said among the once whispering fae. The Bloodbanes had an eeriness about them with their ashen colored skin varying from soft gray to a pale blue. Amos resembled a field of ash after purifying flames, eyes pure white without pupils, and his equally white hair buzzed. He always sounded bored when he spoke, unlike his sister. Evera always sounded on the verge of slaughtering everyone in the room. Though that may have been Nicholas’ fault. Neither of them could stand each other, so the sight of the other put them into an immediately foul mood.
“Our army should remain here, waiting and conserving energy, while our scouts move forward,” Amos said, speaking for the commanders at his back. “Have the soldiers prepare for an assault by setting up more permanent defenses. Once the scouts return, we can decide on whether to wait or move.”
The generals murmured to one another. They wavered, arguing back and forth, until they ultimately agreed.
“Do you have anyone in mind to travel with me?” Nicholas inquired, meeting Amos’ pale eyes.
“Once you inform our scouts of Fearworn’s location, you may remain here. If Fearworn moves, you can inform the generals while our scouts follow or return with further information,” Amos argued.
He had never been the type to care about Nicholas’ safety, so that was Amos’ mother speaking, the one who very much did care. Alvina Bloodbane had plans and she would see them through, even if it meant sending her children to do her bidding. No doubt Amos didn’t mind, he always said his mother had never steered him wrong, so he saw no reason to defy her. Nicholas found that to be unbearably naive, that one day Alvina would use that steadfast loyalty against him.
“Your life cannot be risked,” General Herald added. “As the only one who can track Fearworn, who refuses to share how.”
“And what happens if our scouts stumble upon Fearworn alone? They won’t take him down without me,” Nicholas countered. “I fought him in the forest. He’ll annihilate any we send after him. This must be a battle between shades.”
Though he declined to inform anyone that he would need help, too. That would be dealt with when the time came.
“Lord Darkmoon would not be pleased should you do this,” Duke warned in a whisper at his back. “You are a good faith delegate. You are not meant to risk your life so frequently. He was displeased to hear of your capture.”
“If he cared so much, he shouldn’t have sent me into a war zone,” Nicholas argued, although he knew it was far more complicated than that.
Laurent cared about Nicholas’ status as a shade. A weapon at his disposal to command, and he commanded this weapon to end the war. While fae loved their slaughters, none cared for working alongside mortals. It was necessary for survival. Laurent and the other High Fae in particular found The Collision Treaty to be an insult. A disgrace upon them they wanted burned to ash, and it would be upon the defeat of Calix Fearworn by the hands of a Darkmoon. Afterward, they could return to a life of making deals with foolish mortals, toying with them as fae pleased.
Yes, Laurent wanted Nicholas to kill Fearworn, but to do so “with tact and manner.” Neither of which Nicholas had or was particularly interested in. He would not miss out on this fun, wouldn’t miss an opportunity to set power free. He had never felt so much like himself than he has in this war, releasing all the pent up energy that gnawed at him every damn day. This relentless energy would go up against Fearworn, who wore a strength Nicholas knew he couldn’t stand against and that rarely happened, so when it did, he ran after that power to taste the thrill again. To perhaps postpone his own demise.
“So, who will scout with me?” Nicholas asked. Sighing, Amos nominated himself and listed options for the other four. Nicholas argued against bringing his sister, but knowing Amos, he would choose her out of spite. Once everyone agreed, the meeting dispersed.
Nicholas was to meet with the scouts in an hour. He headed for his tent, intending on taking a brief rest when he passed the medical bay. The army moved during their capture, taking to an empty grove where tents littered the area. William stood inside the medical tent, inspecting sick and needy bastards. Nicholas thought of the night they shared and how he wanted more. He couldn’t have William today, but when he returned, he wanted that vexing medic in his bed.
He peeked inside the medical tent, where William spoke sweetly to a dying patient. The words were unlike him, promising peace with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. They were as dispirited as ever when he pressed two fingers to the miserable man’s neck. The nurses waited until the man’s breathing ceased, then they removed his carcass. William noticed Nicholas. His scowl worsened.
“What do you want?” William asked while cleaning the area around the dead soldier’s bed. He held the dirty linen to his chest and stepped toward the exit. Nurses whispered as he and Nicholas walked past.
“Am I not allowed to pay you a visit?” he replied, following William outside.
A supply tent had been pitched next door. Crates filled most of the space containing clean linen and bandages to potions and herbs. The scents mixed, death and decay, herbs and soap. They wrangled Nicholas’ senses. He couldn’t fathom how one could be around this vile odor all day.
William dropped the dirty linen into a pile. “You are paying a visit because you want something. Spit it out and be done with it.”
“You’ve come to know me so well. I have a proposition to continue our evening rendezvous’.”
“Continue?” William spat between clenched teeth. “How could you ask me to lie with you once, let alone more, when you are engaged? I dare not imagine fae customs in marriage, but I can guess your fiancé will not be pleased to learn of you bedding a human.”
“Evera would find our physical union appalling, but not for the reasons you seem to be thinking of,” Nicholas replied, confounded by William’s apparent worry. “We were engaged at ten, although we will not officially wed until after the war ends, at the least, if she survives that long.”
“Survives?”
“We have tried to kill each other on a number of occasions. Got me a good beating from time to time because of it.”
William gawked, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And why have you tried to assassinate your fiancé?”
“Because I despise the wretched hag and she despises me.”
“You will have to elaborate further.”
“You mortals care about the most trivial matters. How did you even come by this knowledge?”
“Duke thanked me for saving you and expressed that your father and fiancé would be relieved to hear we had been found.”
That earned a laugh out of Nicholas, resulting in William’s further confusion.
“Evera would throw a revel of unfathomable mirth should she learn of my demise,” he explained, which did not deter William’s gaze, sharp as steel. “You are right, a bit of context is in order; there are marriages between fae for love just as there is among your kind. However, many fae marry for agreements, also no different from your rulers, if I am recalling correctly. Our arrangement was made between our parents because of debts we owed to them. We do not have feelings for one another outside of grueling hatred. Neither of us are pleased with this deal. She has multiple partners, no doubt warming her bed at this moment, and I’ve certainly had my fair share, too.”
William pressed his fingers to either side of his temple. Nicholas settled a hand on William’s waist, enjoying the low growl emanating from the back of his throat. He found humor in William’s irritation, how regardless of that irritation they were drawn to each other. William had a magnetic wanting about him, a force worth begging for.
“Asking about this, were you perhaps jealous, my wicked?” Nicholas snickered.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Fae do not like oath breakers. I feared an angry fae would be on her way to disembowel me for ruining an engagement.”
“You needn’t worry about her. If anything, she’d appreciate having you as a distraction.”
William stepped away from the embrace to grab fresh linen. “While I am glad that is settled, that doesn’t change my answer. Go away.”
“I am leaving,” Nicholas said, smirking at William’s piqued interest. “Myself and a handful of other fae scouts are moving ahead to inspect Fearworn’s location. I am not sure how long we’ll be gone.”
“And you came to see me before you left? How sweet.” William’s tone and expression did not mirror his words. He made way toward the exit, but Nicholas blocked his path.
“I can be sweet when I want something, and I want you in my bed when I return.”
William glared. “I am not going to be your little pet that pleases you at night.”
“What is so wrong with pleasing each other?”
“You know damn well what. One night was more than enough.”
“Was it? Our evening together was incredible, wasn’t it? And I wish for an evening where you can thoroughly enjoy yourself.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
Nicholas gripped William’s chin and leaned forward. Every word uttered made their lips brush. “I want you to scream for me.”
“Did I not tell you that you will never have them?”
“Give me the opportunity to change your mind.” Nicholas plucked a dried flower from a box of herbs. He twisted it between his fingers, commanding the herb to roll into a ring. William gave the item a perplexed stare when the fae offered it to him. “Should you decide you want more evenings of pleasure, wear this ring and meet me in my tent. This will never wilt and will hide you, so others won’t notice, not even fae, though it doesn’t work well on monsters, so don’t use it in battle.”
“Did this have to be a ring?” The hatred in William’s voice could set a city ablaze.
“No.” Nicholas slipped the ring into William’s hand. “But the symbolism is amusing, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I hate it.”
“And I am happier for it.” Nicholas retreated, a playful sneer on his face. “When I return, I hope to find you waiting, my wicked.”
William rolled his eyes and Nicholas left. He half expected William to chuck the ring at him, though released a proud breath when he escaped the tent unscathed.