Born To Rule

Chapter Seven

“Why do I need to know all this?” I asked.

A stain of disappointment marked Sidelle’s features, as if I entirely missed the point she’d been trying to make all day.

Dusk’s fading light bathed everything in gold as the witch concluded her tale. We sat around the roaring fireplace now, cider in hand, bellies full from yet another spectacular meal, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d been tricked. Her stall tactics were both pathetic and incredibly obvious.

She paused her story on multiple occasions. When lunch rolled around, she didn’t bring up the subject at all while we ate. Then, when an unhurried visitor knocked on her door offering fresh flower arrangements, she entertained them for far too long. Even Eurok seemed mentally drained. That or the endless glasses of bourbon he’d been drinking all day were finally getting to him. Do druids not get drunk?

I stole a glance out the window, seeing the tall gates in the distance. The day’s stress had them feeling more like the walls of a prison.

“The point is, Mira,” Sidelle said, “it’s not pure happenstance that you look exactly like Annorah, and suffered a vast reaction in the stone forest. That swirling storm of static energy was Annorah’s mana. The chest only contained a fraction of her power. We vastly underestimated how much she possessed, and the residual mana lingering there recognized your soul.”

My lack of enthusiasm sat plain on my face. The toll of the day was evident in her tired eyes and slumped posture. The patience I once believed to be endless was waning.

After a long sigh, she continued, “I believe your souls are one and the same, and just as Annorah could possess mana, we,” she gestured between Eurok and herself, “think you can too.”

I zoned out, paying more attention to the pattern of the woodgrain floors than the words coming out of her mouth. Their heavy stares were pinpricks on my skin. Perhaps it was a combination of overwhelm and shock, but I couldn’t deny my presence had been reduced to mind-numbing fatigue and emotional detachment.

Instead, I went over my plan to leave again. Follow the river, find a town, obtain a horse. I’d travel to South Port, board a ship, then get the hell out of this kingdom. I should’ve done it years ago.

A sour pinch of guilt picked at my insides, pondering how long Sidelle had been fighting for this cause and the hope Annorah represented for her. She just wanted what’s best for her people, and though some small piece of me sympathized, it still changed nothing for me. I was human. I couldn’t wield magic, and I wasn’t some dead princess reborn. My resolve rising, I grabbed my bourbon and tossed it back in one large swig.

“Listen, I mean no disrespect, but I can’t wrap my head around how this is possible.” I made a conscious effort to control my tone, though politeness wasn’t a practiced skill set. If that didn’t emphasize how far from a princess I was, I didn’t know what would. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I would like to leave now.” I stood.

Eurok raised an eyebrow in an expression that said, ‘Oh shit.’ then took another sip from his glass. Sidelle, though, looked at me with those endless dark eyes. For a fraction of a second, the years I learned about today stared back at me—years of diligent service, years working toward a future she staked her entire life on. With a single sentence, I just fractured some large part of that nine hundred years of hope.

Something shifted in her expression, an emotion I hadn’t seen yet. Anger? Desperation? It faded before I placed it.

She braced her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands. Her brow pinched, as if she didn’t want to deliver her next words. “This truth will follow you beyond every border, across every ocean. And someday your powers will emerge. It pains me to say this, but you don’t have a choice in that.”

My eyes narrowed, and she straightened.

“I am not your enemy,” she said. “I only wish for you to see me as the ally I can be—that I want to be.”

Red clouded my mind, fueling my irritation. “I don’t need allies.”

Eurok stood from his place by the fire. “Sidelle, love, let’s give her a moment. It’s been a long day.”

I didn’t want a moment. I wanted to leave.

Sidelle ignored him anyway. Her brows furrowed in a stern mixture of frustration and determination, and perhaps a bit of pity, too. “You think you have something to prove? Good.” She nodded. “That determination has, no doubt, aided you all your life. But wherever it is you plan on running to,” she jerked her chin, gesturing beyond the village gates, “will not be where you prove it.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked, my stubbornness driving.

“She speaks directly to the gods, girl,” Eurok said, as if it were obvious.

“She told me they’ve been silent.”

His eyes flicked to Sidelle.

But I wasn’t done. I dropped into my chair again and sat back, crossing my legs and folding my arms. “Besides, I don’t believe in the gods. If I am of such high importance, where the hell were they when my mother died? Or when my father forced ale down my throat until I blacked out?”

Eurok’s sharp jaw clenched. Whether at the edge of my tone or the uncomfortable story from my childhood, I wasn’t sure.

“Where were the gods when I stole to survive? When I killed to save myself from being raped in the streets?” Sidelle stiffened. “If you truly speak to the gods, do me a favor, will you?” I jerked my chin. “Tell them to fuck off.”

A heavy, suffocating silence ensued, prompting me to stand and head for the door. As I did so, the druids exchanged yet another anxious glance.

“You put no faith in the gods? Fine. I can understand why you feel that way.”

Her whispered words slowed my retreat, and I stopped. She rubbed her brow as if warding off a headache.

“Still, you stand here today stronger than you otherwise would’ve been. We don’t choose our monsters, Mira. They choose us,” she said. “I don’t have all the answers, though I wish I did. What I’m offering you is a home, food, clothing, whatever you like. It is at your disposal.”

“This sounds a lot like bribery.”

“Perhaps. But what have you got to lose?”

Had my eyes been a blade, they would have sliced her. “What have I got to lose? Are you fucking kidding me?”

I had lost everything because of these people. Yes, it may have started with the king, but she could have set me free immediately after leaving the castle. Not hire a carriage to transport me hundreds of miles in the wrong direction.

“I could’ve boarded a ship in Breckenridge by now.” My shoulders squared. “I had the chance at a fresh start somewhere no one has seen this godsdamned face. But because of you and that vile son-of-a-bitch on the throne fucking it up for me, I lost everything.”

Somehow my dagger made it into my fist, though using it never crossed my mind. I wasn’t stupid enough to think I could kill either of them, especially after witnessing their power. Despite my disadvantage, I was not about to let them treat me as if my miserable life somehow meant less than any number of lifetimes they’ve lived. These ancient druids lived tenfold beyond any human lifespan. They couldn’t comprehend what it was like to have one. Just when I thought my life was becoming my own, something I could finally cherish, they ripped it from me.

Eurok pinned me with a glare, a warning not to do anything stupid. From the moment I raised my voice, his hands never left his daggers. My fingers traced the familiar grooves etched into the hilt. As hard as I could, I swung the blade downward. With a loud, infuriated yell of effort, I stabbed the cedar table, then stormed upstairs to my room—cell.

Sidelle called after me, my name dusted with regret, but I heard enough. I sat there all day listening to the story of her precious princess and how she sacrificed herself for her people. But that was just it—I had no people. I took care of myself, and I was fucking good at it.

In the room, I kicked off the boots and dropped onto the bed. I stared up at the vaulted ceiling, following its arched wooden beams to the spectacular stag-antler chandelier. If I wasn’t so caught up in my temper, I might have appreciated the intricate copper inlays and bleached-bone, but my blood was boiling.

Like a cobra flushing a rodent from its den, any tenderness I held for the witch fled my body. I’d been so stupid. I buried my head underneath the thick down pillow. Hidden from the last glimpse of dusk, I willed sleep to drag today’s nightmares from my mind. She said I was free to go—and I expected her to hold true to that promise. At first light, I’d demand a horse. It was the least she could do.

Rest took over, effectively fogging out my furious thoughts, and I woke to a low knock on the door. I leaned across the plush mattress and lit the lantern on the bedside table. As I did, a series of sconces along the bedroom walls ignited as well. I shook my head. I’d never get used to mana, let alone wield it.

“Mira?” a gruff voice called.

I half-expected someone to come to talk to me, but truth be told, I didn’t think it’d be the captain.

I sat up with a sigh, threw back the soft, white comforter, and slid off the bed, landing on the jute area rug. The space had a light, airy essence to it. The strange, rounded walls served as a constant reminder that the home was woven into a tree. Every soft surface was white, from the long gossamer curtains that blew in a comfortable breeze to the cushioned lounge chairs tucked into a small reading nook. A simple blend of comfort and nature.

I padded to the door and cracked it open.

Eurok’s severe face was lit by the light behind me. “Can we talk?”

His expression was difficult to read, but he seemed less angry than when I stormed out of the conversation. I stepped away, leaving the way ajar so he could let himself in.

“Uh, perhaps you might join me outside—or in another room?”

The answering glower I gave him over my shoulder was all he needed. He cleared his throat, then followed me inside, gently closing the door behind him. I moved to the large circular window overlooking the village, and Eurok took up the space beside me. For a moment, we stood there, our eyes fixed on the view.

Outside, the moon bathed the waterfalls in gentle silver light, and they glittered back in spectacular thanks. Lanterns lining the empty cobblestone streets flickered. All was calm and silent. It was so peaceful, so beautiful, it almost wasn’t fair. While the heat of my anger lingered, the sharp edges softened, my ire dissipating.

“Are you okay?” Eurok finally asked.

“I’ll be fine.” I almost didn’t recognize the melancholy in my voice.

“Sidelle didn’t mean for it to come out like that, you know?”

Maybe not, but my frustration wasn’t that simple, and we both knew it. At least he tried.

“I owe Sidelle. I know that I do. But I think she makes the mistake of believing that, just because I lived on the streets prior to all of this, that I didn’t have a life—that I wasn’t working my ass off for something that mattered to me. Sure, I was a pathetic street rat, but I had dreams of my own.” The edge in my tone sharpened with my words, but I had enough yelling for one night. After a slow, steadying breath, I managed a whisper. “And now all of it’s gone.”

“It would’ve been gone anyway had she not saved you from that dungeon.”

“I know that!” I snipped. My gaze dropped, and I picked at a loose bit of paint on the windowsill. “Just because I have Sidelle to thank for saving me, doesn’t mean I owe her my life. Does it?”

He paused a few heartbeats before answering. “She has no desire to control you. She wants to encourage you.”

“To be something I’m not.” With a huff, I pushed away from the window. When I plopped on the bed, the springs squeaked in protest. “I’m no princess. I can’t wield magic. And I don’t belong here.”

“Humans,” he shook his head as he faced me, “you’re all the same.”

“How so?”

“You’re all so self-absorbed.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and quirked a brow.

“Hold on now.” He chuckled, sensing my disapproval. “You spend your lives seeking happiness, do you not?”

My eyes rolled. This was getting too philosophical for my liking. “Is that not the point?”

“Not in the way humans think it is.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” I drawled.

He loosed a hearty laugh this time and scratched the dark brown scruff on his chin. “You see, humans seek individual contentment. You all assume to have achieved happiness despite the world, despite your challenges, yields a successful life.” He leaned his weight against the windowsill. “But you have it all wrong. It’s within like-minded communities where true pleasure lies—serving others and contributing to each other’s prosperity.”

My face conveyed my doubt. I refused to accept that anyone, human or not, wouldn’t be driven by the pursuit of happiness. I still wanted my happy ending—even now, when it seemed impossible. He might as well have been speaking another language, for all the good it did to convince me. It was a pipe dream.

“If that were true,” I said, “and you’ve witnessed firsthand what life’s like across that border, then you’d know it would never be enough, nothing is ever enough. You’d recognize just how far gone we really are.”

“Do you believe that about all humans?” he asked, his gaze as pensive as a sunrise—with the colors to match.

“Maybe not all.”

“And what about yourself? Are you too far gone?”

At that, I fixed my attention on anything but him. “Maybe.” A tightness swelled in my throat, and I swallowed against it. “Or I just never belonged there, either.”

“Where do you belong, then?” He settled on the edge of the bed, and the mattress dipped with his weight.

The truth? I had no idea. Though, admitting that out loud seemed counterintuitive to the point I was making—that I didn’t belong here.

But he read the silent answer on my face, anyway. “Sidelle believes you belong here.”

“Sidelle believes I’m a princess with magical powers,” I scoffed. “What do you believe?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“That only makes me more curious.”

I doubted his view would change anything for me, but I was interested to hear it from someone other than the witch, and something told me Eurok would give it to me straight. He carried himself with poise and certainty, a being who knew exactly where he belonged, the surety of a true leader.

He drew in a long, slow breath before answering. “I don’t possess the same skill set as Sidelle. I’ve never spoken to the gods. To be honest, I’m not sure they’re listening anymore. But—if she claimed I was destined for something, I’d be willing to listen.”

“Even if it goes against everything you know about yourself?”

“I’ve lived for hundreds of years. If there is one thing I’ve figured out, it’s that we are always learning about ourselves. If she revealed my life was intended for something as extraordinary as what she believes yours is—then yes. I’d listen.”

Confident.

Realization dawned on me then, and I couldn’t keep from smiling. Pieces slid together like a mosaic made to be admired from a distance. He’d been entirely at ease, witty even, when my anger was directed at him. But the moment my ire shifted to Sidelle, he tensed, readying himself to defend. That alone would suggest nothing more than his willingness to protect her. But I recalled the way his intense stare consumed her, and how all day they seemed to move with one another as if a tether bound them. Having never felt it myself, it was strange how easily I read it on his face.

“You love her, don’t you?” I expected him to deny it. But he didn’t.

“More than my own life.”

“Are you,” I wasn’t sure what the term was for them, “partners?”

“No. Though it’s not for a lack of trying on my part.” A sly smile crept across his lips.

“Does Sidelle not return your affections?”

With a soft laugh, his attention returned to the window. “She denies her feelings because she feels she needs to.”

My eyes narrowed, both with curiosity and skepticism. “Why?”

“Because, ironically, Sidelle is working toward a future where all can find happiness. And she believes, though I doubt she’d ever admit it, that if she were to give in to her feelings, it would distract her from what she has been pursuing her entire life.”

“That’s very,” I fought the urge to say na?ve, “insightful of you.”

“No, it’s not. Nearly three hundred years, and I’ve only just learned the scope of what she’s capable of, what she’s fighting for.”

“And what would that be?” I asked.

“The same thing Annorah gave her life for. A world where everyone belongs.”

My guilt surged, threatening to invoke a rising storm for what I said to Mira. I spent the last hour pacing at the base of the stairs, waiting for Eurok to return from speaking with her. My heels ached from how heavily I pounded against the pine planks. When I finally gave it a rest, I ventured into the den to steep in my turmoil near the fire.

Gods, how could I have been so ignorant? Less than forty-eight hours passed since she lost everything. Of course, she’d be furious with me. Nine hundred years of navigating diplomatic relations between the royal court and the druid council, and here I was struggling to surmise what a twenty-three-year-old girl wanted.

I swallowed against my own shame. I didn’t ask, never stopped to think. My focus dwelled on closing the deal, securing her agreement to help. I never considered what she was going through. I’d been no better than a spider, luring her into my web with my promises of food and comfort.

Upstairs, the door creaked open, and I stood. Mira descended the stairs, her long, dark hair swaying with each step. Eurok followed close behind.

“Mira, I’m so sorry.”

Her energy still escaped my ability to read it clearly, so I checked her features for some clue as to how she felt. With a desperate heart, I searched for any hint of forgiveness written there.

“It’s okay. Eurok explained where you were coming from and,” she paused a breath as if to gather her words, “I’ve… I’ve decided that I’m going to stay. I’ll try to do as you ask.”

Doubt still resonated in her tone, but it was a start.

Eurok’s eyes were alight with satisfaction, and I could have kissed him.

“I’m so glad to hear that. But Mira, I never meant to be so insensitive. I just–”

“I know,” she said through a sigh. “So we’re clear, I don’t believe I am who you say I am, but,” she paused again and pressed her lips, “I’ll try.”

I blinked, stunned that this was the same young woman who stabbed my end table hours ago.

Eurok nudged me in the arm as he walked past. “Nearly a century old, and we still haven’t figured out how to keep from putting our foot in our mouths, have we?”

I rolled my eyes, then faced Mira. A small, strained smile wavered on her cheeks.

“Well, I’m tired.” She shrugged, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m gonna head to bed.” She dipped her chin at Eurok. “See you in the morning?”

He nodded, and she shuffled back upstairs.

When her door clicked shut, I turned to Eurok with a wide smile. His countenance lit up in response, and I leapt into his arms. He lifted me off the ground as if I weighed little more than a sack of feathers.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

His eyes darkened as he flashed a suggestive grin. “Oh, I have a couple of ideas,” he said, setting me down. The devil in him replacing the angel that’d just been my saving grace.

“Eurok, please.” A giggle escaped through the words. I pushed a bit of hair behind my ear, casually stepping away.

His rough, calloused hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me to him again. With gentle fingers, he gripped my chin, holding my gaze. I thought he would press his mouth to mine—but he didn’t.

My body was a charged volt under the molten swell of his eyes. They poured over me. I worked to steady my heart. Erezos, save me. He was so beautiful.

I settled my palm against his cheek, my mana seeking his energy, but it came up empty. Disappointment gnawed on my soul, though I had no right to feel that way. Eurok kept his energy close, as many males did. Still, a small part of me always hoped he’d let me in.

In the early years of our friendship, that sly smile and clever wit weakened my knees despite my insistence to maintain clear professional lines. One night, I even dreamt of how it might feel if he offered me his arm in a senuae. The customary gesture of interest stole my breath, even in my sleep. With arms and auras open, we presented our literal and spiritual selves to the other. His light fingertips grazed mine, our auras intermingled in a beautiful, intimate display, the two of us becoming one—becoming mates.

Though, in the waking world, Eurok understood where my true commitment resided. With my people. While time and distance did little to quell his interest, I spent years denying the depth of my own. But today, it was as if something had changed. I sensed it in how he found any excuse to touch me, to be near me, the way his eyes tracked my every move. It was growing more and more difficult to ignore how much I craved it—craved him.

“Why do you keep your energy under lock and key?” I asked. A soft burn warmed my cheeks. I’d spoken to seize my only chance to avoid succumbing to that stare—I hadn’t expected the words to come out so forward.

One edge of his mouth twitched upward in a devastating smirk. “Because if you read what you do to me, love, I doubt you’d allow me in the same room with you again.”