25. Reyla
25
REYLA
A s the sailors moved around the deck, getting ready for our departure, Merrick urged me to the rail to wait. The morning sun cast a warm glow over everything and gave the view an almost ethereal beauty that stole my breath.
“What do you think of Evergorne, Fawn?” Merrick asked, his voice soft yet filled with a quiet pride that resonated deep inside me.
“Fawn feels . . . tame, don't you think?” I glanced his way before studying the worn rail beneath my fingers. How many journeys had this ship made and how many with Merrick and Lore?
I hated that even in this, I couldn’t focus solely on the man by my side.
“It’s true.” The low, seductive rumble of his voice sunk through my bones, making me shiver. “ Are you tame, or do you need taming, my pretty bride?” Leaning close, he nibbled on my ear.
Heat flashed through me, centering between my legs where I throbbed . It was all I could do to think. All I could do to breathe. How could he light me on fire so easily when last night . . . I would not allow myself to think about last night. Merrick was my husband. It was right to respond to his touch.
“What would you prefer I call you instead of fawn?” he asked in a voice that made me want to drop onto a bed and let him devour me.
I shrugged, the only response I could drum up while my brain whirled.
He tugged on one of my strands of hair left dangling. “You're fiery. Passionate. Shall I call you blaze?”
Please, no.
“Firestorm?' Leaning away from me, his eyes lit. “I know what it should be, and I love it. I'll call you wildfire .”
My hands shook, and I darted my gaze to the deck.
“It fits, don't you think?” His light tone told me he'd decided and that was that. I was stuck with the name I adored as much as I hated it.
“Why that name in particular?” What kind of cruel game were the fates playing with me?
“Your hair. Your spirit. You’re fiery.”
“Then call me fiery.”
His smile widened. “No, I think it needs to be wildfire.”
Of course. Of course. Leave it to him to pick the same nickname Lore had branded me with.
I gave him a weak smile. “It's nice. ”
“Nice?” He laughed, the sound tickling across my skin.
“You could call me Reyla. It’s my real name.” The one my mother had given me herself.
“I love pet names, don't you? Since we're growing closer, I want to use something that's personal for us alone. If you don't like it, I'll think of something else,” he added with a touch of concern.
I pushed for a smile. “No, it's fine. Thank you. I love it.” No, no, I didn’t, but how could I tell him this was the name Lore used as well?
“Perfect, then.” He kissed the side of my neck before turning to lean against the rail.
Someone wearing a cloak hurried up one of the streets, leaving the pier. Lore running away?
Actually, I was the one who should run.
My gaze swept across the sprawling city that was more compact and populated than the village around Bledmire, my only experience with a fae court. “To answer your question, your city is grand. Majestic.” Cobblestone streets wound between the three-story, slab stone and mortar buildings and even early in the morning, merchants pushed carts or moved them through the air with magic, most making their way to a central area where they must set up a market each day. From what I could see from here, the buildings looked neat and well-maintained. Those living here had wealth. There wasn’t a scrambled-together structure in sight, like in some of the villages I’d defended from the back of a dragon.
Colorful flags and banners fluttered in the sea breeze from the fronts of most of the homes and even from a few rooftops .
A skinny man who’d had too much to drink lurched along the pier, near the wall, his clothing ragged and with a bottle and cup in his hands. When someone came near, he thrust out the cup. People ignored him, scooting past without looking back.
The hills beyond the city rolled gently upward, growing in height with each, and grand manors dotted the tops, their metal roofs sparkling in the sunshine. Enormous, colorful gardens added a touch of whimsy to the landscape. They’d built on the hills for the best view of the shimmering sea below.
But it was the enormous structure looming above them like a bird of prey that caught and held my eye. The stone castle dominated the skyline, its multiple spires reaching toward the stars. A marvel of architecture and magic, its walls gleamed in the sunlight.
“What’s the history of the castle?” I asked.
Farris sat beside me, staring through a gap in the rail, appearing as curious as me about our new home.
“My ancestors built it long ago and after many years of war,” Merrick said. “Finally, they formed a treaty with the other courts and my ancestor, Aricor, took claim to this part of the continent.”
“How long ago was this?”
“So many generations ago, we’ve lost count.”
“Who owned this land before he claimed it?”
“His family had lived here for a long time, though his father owned a modest manor.” He gestured to one on a hill to the right and below the castle. “He was crowned king, and he felt he needed a home that would reflect his stature.”
“Some home. ”
“It’s pretentious, isn’t it?”
I loved that he could see that. “Much fancier than I’m used to.”
“You’ll grow to love it as much as me. This land is entrenched in my bones. It’s me, and I protect it from all harm.”
What about the other courts who were trying to make war?
“He constructed it from marleene, a gorgeous silver stone with black veins that sparkle. Marleene’s mined in the mountains beyond. He carefully extracted it—”
“ He , meaning he did it himself?”
He lifted one shoulder and dropped it. “More or less. He used magic, though the lesser fae were happy to help.”
“Lesser fae?”
“Few can harness the power of the ruling class.”
“Explain the class systems for me.” I should’ve asked this first instead of flirting with Lore and climbing through portholes to dangle over the side of the ship.
“The ruling class, the lords and ladies, are . . .” He scowled. “I’m not sure how to say it except using the terms they do. Though I’ll state right now that I don’t like this system. I’m slowly trying to change it for the good of all my people. But the ruling class are highborn. They control the most power.”
How did that compare to the power I’d only had a taste of from Merrick and Lore?
“They’re quite strict about maintaining their bloodlines,” he said.
“Hence you asking for a fae bride rather than one of the lessers or powerless.”
“Given the choice, I would’ve let my heart decide, but in all things, my heart must come second.” An odd look crossed his face before he smoothed his features. “Their opinion shouldn’t matter, yet it does. I need to rule my court and these lands without creating too much strife or I’ll never bring about change.”
“Lesser fae are just those with less magic,” I said. “There’s nothing lesser about them at all.”
“I agree.”
“How do your ruling class, the lords and ladies of your court, maintain their pure blood without inbreeding?”
“There are enough of them—”
“You should use us, not them.” I wasn’t sure why I was pushing this except I needed to see his reaction. Despite his assurance that he was trying to make changes, I wanted to know if he, like Ivenrail, still saw himself and his high lords and ladies as above everyone else, as people who could take from the lessers whether they wanted to give or not.
“In their company, perhaps.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I hope, with you, I can speak from the heart.”
“Please do.”
“Then know I believe we’re all the same people. The ability to wield magic doesn’t make anyone better than someone else. But I am the king, born of the ruling class.”
“Who now has a lovely fae wife from the ruling class herself.”
“I like that you didn’t grow up that way, that you can see what few others can. We are all the same, propriety be damned.”
How common was his belief among those who ruled? I suspected I was going to discover few others held the same view. “Does anyone drain power from another?”
“You speak of Ivenrail.”
“We stopped that trick as fast as we could.” With this man’s help. He’d made the difference at the end, and I needed to remember on whose side he’d fought.
“The answer is no,” he said in a steely tone. “We do not drain anyone.” The sharpness in his eyes faded. “I’d say ten percent of my court make up the ruling class, the lesser fae perhaps forty, and the powerless, the rest.”
“What roles do everyone play?” I asked.
“The ruling class rule.”
“Yes, they make demands and others fill them.” Sarcasm twisted my voice.
“They’re paid. The lesser work alongside the powerless.”
“Making sure the lords and ladies have food on their tables and someone to clean up behind them.”
“Paid, as I said.”
“In coin or . . .”
“Is there any other way?”
“You said the ruling class can wield the most power. Why not do these tasks for themselves?”
“Because using magic can be tiring. We use it when we need it, but most find it easier to do things with our hands or pay others to do it for us.”
“How do you know who’s lesser and who’s powerless?” Back home, I couldn’t tell. But I hadn’t grown up knowing those who were now called lesser actually had power since it was suppressed by a spell. We had our ruling class; however, and they were almost all wicked. Being full “high” fae, I must be wicked myself, though I’d grown up thinking I had no power.
“I see it.”
“I don’t. Why not?”
“That’s a good question,” he said. “Your people aren’t much different from mine. You have your ruling class, your Nullens who are actually lesser fae. And the powerless who were manipulated by the now dead king.”
“We restored the balance.” Tempest did, mostly, but I played a small role myself.
“I hope you can help me do the same with my own court.” He scanned the area. “I protect what’s mine, and that means this land and these people, no matter their class, and you.” The tension on his face smoothed. “Aricor used magic to mine the stone where he could or arranged for others to help him extract and hone it.”
Arranged was a diplomatic way of putting it.
“The huge slabs were moved to that area,” his hand swept toward his home, “and the castle was built. It took ten years to complete. By then, Aricor had died, but his young son took the throne and finished the project.”
“How old was his son?”
His gaze flicked away from mine. “Eleven.”
“That’s young to be crowned king.”
“Like me, he had his mother standing behind him, and she was one of the good ones. So was mine, for that matter.”
“ Was? What does that mean?”
He gestured to the gangway and took my hand. “Come. Our carriage has arrived. It’s time to leave the ship. I like to move among my people whenever I can, to be seen.”
A dark, open carriage stood near the gate, hitched to a beast unlike anything I’d seen before. Most of my life, I’d traveled by dragon, but dragons wouldn’t hop along the street while the king waved to his people.
“You like to be seen from a carriage?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” The word whooshed out with my breath, stealing my tension along with it. I wasn’t using a blade, but I was poking him with my questions. I was irritated with myself, and I was taking it out on him, something I needed to stop.
We left the gangway and walked along the wooden pier, stepping onto the cobblestone road beyond.
“It looks like a long way to walk,” I said in a breezy tone, tightening my grip on Farris’s leash. Lord Briscalar said when Farris lived inside the castle, he could run free in my suite or when someone took him out to the gardens. I wasn’t sure what my pet was going to think about that, and it stressed me. Maybe I should let him go. Forest coated the sides of the mountains. He’d be relatively safe here.
“It is a long way from the castle to the town,” Merrick said. “Though many times, I’ll walk down the hillside and stroll through the city on foot.”
With Lore pacing behind him, no doubt.
A tall stone wall encircled the city, stretching from the shore in both directions before curving around to encompass the castle, though a gate stood open ahead, on the other side of the pier .
“You said the wall was built to keep out predators,” I said. “You didn't tell me what kind of predator.”
“Most have fled and no longer pose a threat. The true predators of Evergorne are within.”
A shiver tracked through me, but I hadn't expected anything less. I only had vague memories of Bledmire Court, but I sensed that, other than Merrick presiding over Evergorne, the two courts were too much alike.
“A coin, precious?” The lean man dressed in raggedy clothing stumbled over and smacked into my right side, thrusting out a cup. “Surely you have coins.” He slurred his words, and his breath held a sour reek. The wine bottle he carried slipped from his hand, impacting with the cobblestones. It shattered, shooting glass everywhere. One shard sliced through my gown and impaled itself in my right calf.
I yelped and reeled away from him.
Farris growled and flung himself toward the man, his teeth snapping and a snarl ripping up his throat. If I hadn’t had a good grip on his leash, he would’ve leaped. As it was, I could barely hold my pet back. He might be small, but he clearly could be vicious.
“Whoa, whoa,” the man cried, stumbling away. He fell onto his backside, his metal cup clattering on the cobblestones beside him. “I just want coins,” he whined. “No need to be mean.”
Merrick thrust himself between us and with a snap of his fingers, wove a wall of ice that blocked the drunken man from me and Farris. Striding around the wall, he dropped coins into the man’s cup. “Here. Go. Don’t come near her again. ”
The man scrambled to stuff the coins into his pocket and crawled away from us, his cup clanking on the stones. He rose to his feet and kept going, making his way along the outer part of the wall.
“I’m sorry.” Merrick let the icy wall go, and it collapsed onto the stone, melting already.
“It’s not your fault.” I tugged up my skirt, exposing the shard of glass impaling my leg. Blood trickled down from the wound.
“You’re hurt.” He dropped to his knees beside me and gently pulled out the glass. A flick of his finger and what was left of the bottle turned to sand. I’d heard sand could be formed into glass with flames.
Elemental aegis. His skill could take one element and turn it into another. Sand to glass and, in this case, glass back into sand. He looked up at me, his face solemn and his eyes full of sympathy. He placed his palm over my wound and closed his eyes, releasing a low hum.
The stinging stopped, and when he opened his eyes and removed his hand, my wound was gone as if it had never been there.
“Are you alright otherwise?” Rising, he took both of my hands, squeezing them while he looked me over.
“I’m fine. It was only a tiny cut.”
“Good.” His sharp gaze swept across the area, but other than sailors moving about, some loading things onto boats, others making stacks on the pier, there was no one else around.
“Thank you.” Rising onto my toes, I kissed his cheek.
Color climbed into his face. “You matter, Reyla. Very much.”
“Enough to let me wear knives at all times?” I asked. After someone trying to poison me, and this incident, I didn’t like to remain unarmed. “Lord Briscalar said no one’s allowed to wear weapons near you.”
“You can wear any weapon you please.”
“Even in your company?”
“Even then. I’ll make sure no one questions your right to wear them.”
“Thank you. I promise not to poke you with them.”
“What if I irk you?” he asked with a soft laugh as he urged me closer to the carriage.
“Behave and you won't find out.”
His laughter burst out again, and a few people stopped and looked our way, a few shaking their heads before returning to what they were doing.
My smile joined with his. He really was an appealing man. I could love him much too easily.
We stopped beside the carriage, and I studied the creature pulling it.
When you regularly worked with dragons who stood as tall as a two- to three-story building, very few creatures could intimidate you. The dregs we’d battled had been vicious, with long claws and fangs. And they were relentless, even crawling across the ground to reach you after they’d been wounded, trailing their spilled guts behind them in thick strands.
This creature . . . I wasn’t sure how to describe it. Its appearance was easy. Four legs and shaped much like a horse, though larger and with a spiked tail rather than one of hair. A long neck, skinnier than a horse’s, and three long claws on its feet in place of hooves .
Tall, its front shoulder reached above the top of my head, and it was at least twice as broad as a horse. Not that I’d had much interaction with horses, but the villagers had used them to pull wagons and till their fields. Some rode them. I’d seen them in passing on the streets, and they’d appeared to be placid things.
Not this beast who looked like it could challenge a youngling dragon and win if the dragon hadn’t yet learned to blast fire.
Even Farris knew to be wary. He leaned against the back of my skirt, peering past me at the creature.
Its scaly hide shimmered like polished bronze, and long, curled horns in a lighter burnished copper jutted up from its forehead, curving around to thrust forward, each ending in a deadly point. Ears at the base of the horns flicked back and forth and its dark brown eyes took in the world around us with surprising intelligence.
Horns like those could end a life with one stab. Then the creature could lift them with its thickly muscled neck and toss them into the air. By the time they landed, the beast would be upon them, slashing at their hide with the forearm long claws. If that didn’t finish off their prey, the long, sinewy whip of a tail with a triangular spike on the tip would do it.
Its horse-like snout and muzzle extended down to lips peeling back in a yawn to reveal finger-long fangs. Wisps of vapor escaped its nostrils.
“Can it breathe fire?” I asked as we stopped beside the carriage, Farris pressing between us to hide.
“Only a hot mist that burns,” Merrick said .
Essentially the same thing if it would blister or singe the skin off its victim.
The beast shifted, its muscles rippling beneath its hide, and it turned its head to look our way, its gaze passing Merrick to lock on me. It studied me with a cunning that told me this beast would be a formidable foe.
“Can you speak with it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We don’t speak with any creatures here.”
Unlike Tempest, my beast master friend, but I’d save that tidbit of information for another time.
“Who will drive it?” No one stood nearby, ready to climb into the front of the carriage and pick up the reins.
“I’ll send the zephyl directions.”
A zephyl, huh? “You’ll send it directions in your mind?”
“With my hands. It’s been well-trained.”
“Like our dragons.”
“I hope to learn more about dragons from you. We use them for long-distance travel. In the past, our aeries were full of them ready to carry us into battle, though we have so few left, most people have stopped working with them. Now, only a couple of older ones remain.” He lifted Farris into the carriage and then me, and I sank into the plush, pale gray cushion with Farris slumping onto his belly on the polished floor by my feet. The carriage itself appeared simple and unadorned, but maybe Merrick didn’t like drawing too much attention or appearing ostentatious when he rode among his people.
Once Merrick had settled beside me, he made a series of hand gestures, and the beast started walking, its claws clicking on the cobblestones as it pulled the carriage around to head through the gates.
I peered around. “Your city is beautiful.”
“Now your city as well.”
Yes, that was right.
A smile played on his lips, and his eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and affection. “I'm glad you think so, Wildfire. I'll do all I can to make you feel welcome here.”
His gaze remained on me while I studied the buildings, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The intimate gesture sent a silent promise. Despite the guilt still gnawing at me, I couldn't deny the pull I felt toward Merrick. The spark between us couldn't be denied. It was different from the raw, consuming desire that had flared between Lore and I, yet similar enough to be its mirror image.
The warmth in Merrick's gaze skimmed across the surface of my soul, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I should want my new husband to care for me, but should I want myself to feel more than friendship for him? I'd loved Kinart with a fierce, endless devotion, and his loss gutted me. I’d never expected anyone would fill that hollow place inside me again. Yet here was Merrick, a man of strength and kindness, offering me a future I hadn't dared dream of.
I could easily feel a lot for him. I suspected if he kept speaking with me, teasing me, I’d want him with an intensity that matched my grief, which was both a blessing and a curse. I was torn between the past and the present, between loyalty to my lost love and the teasing promise of a new beginning.
But as I looked up into Merrick's eyes, I knew that I had to move forward. I had to embrace this new life and the responsibilities that came with it. I had to be a queen for Evergorne, a partner for the court’s king, and a leader for the people who would come to depend on me.
As for Lore . . .
I would deal with those feelings when or if I had to.
For now, I would focus on the man sitting beside me.