39. Chapter 39
Chapter 39
“ I wouldn’t have expected you in here so early,” Embra drawled with a knowing smirk three days later.
Aurelia lifted her head from where it had been bent over her work, carefully pinching the tiny burgundy buds from a plant.
“Why?” she asked.
Embra laughed, the silvery sound filling the air of the greenhouse and making a fist clench around Aurelia’s heart.
Gods, how she’d missed her friend. This place. And to think that she’d left it willingly just months ago.
Embra plucked the brass watering can from the windowsill, turning on the faucet. “You forget that I’m Bound to one of the Blood Folk as well,” she said, tapping a slender finger the shade of a sapling against the claiming mark inked into her neck. “I just expected Ven to be occupying most of your time.” She cast a wicked glance toward Aurelia. “They’re particularly possessive when they’ve claimed a mate—tenfold when they’re Bound.”
Aurelia swatted her friend away with a laugh, bowing her head over her work once more. “Oh—he tried.”
And succeeded. But after three full days of not leaving their chambers, she demanded that he let her get back to some semblance of a routine.
The possessive prick still wouldn’t let her leave to get her own food—insisting on catering to her every whim so that she ran out of excuses to leave their bed . . . with the exception of the large stone tub and the piled rug before the roaring fire . . . and at one point he’d let her stand against the bookshelves, his large hands cuffing her ankles as he—
Embra cleared her throat from where she watered the plants along the wall.
Heat rushed into Aurelia’s face. It must have been apparent what she was thinking about from the glazed look in her eyes, the fact that she’d been pulling green leaves off the plant in front of her instead of the tiny red buds.
“Oh, fuck it all,” she spat.
“From the smell of you, I’d say Ven already has,” Embra answered sweetly, slipping away into the adjoining door of her laboratory, leaving Aurelia to turn the exact shade of fuchsia as the blossoms on the shelf.
Her attention snagged on the back room of Embra’s tower, shades still drawn to keep out the sunlight. But before she could say anything, Valea's sheet of platinum hair disappeared again.
The female had made a full recovery, but she’d taken to hiding in the quiet peace of Embra’s tower, much like Aurelia had those first few weeks here at Ravenstone—though why she was hiding was as much a mystery as the rest of her.
Embra returned, extending a jar of dried herbs to Aurelia. “Contraceptive tea.”
Aurelia felt a twinge of guilt as she took the jar.
The magickal kingdoms had been without children for centuries, but the thought of bringing a child into this—whatever it was that was happening in their world right now—was too daunting to consider. When she'd voiced her concerns to Ven, he'd only replied, When you're ready for that—when we're both ready for that. But until then . . . I'll enjoy being a selfish prick and keep you all to myself.
“Thank you,” she smiled, tucking the container into a satchel. Having a healer as a friend had its perks. “We can’t all so easily avoid a mishap—” The words had barely left her tongue as she noticed Embra wince, smiling at the jest but the sting unmistakable in her expression.
“Shit—I’m sorry,” she backtracked, cursing herself. “That was . . .” She shook her head, wishing she could eat the words and choke on them. “It was insensitive of me. I’m sorry.” Her eyes fell to the floor, too embarrassed to look at Embra directly.
A pale green hand gripped hers. Much stronger than the slender fingers belied.
“You can’t control nature,” Embra offered with a small laugh, “trust me—my people have tried.” She turned, murmuring to a plant, it's blue-green vines stretching to wrap around her arm as she turned away to tend to the others.
“Do you—” Aurelia began, fumbling over her tongue, “or did you—ever wish for children?”
“Once.” Embra’s delicate shoulders lifted, tipping the watering can into the flowers nearby, the petals seeming to open wider for her. “But that was before I witnessed what was lost—before I met Nira, before I came here.” Her rich brown eyes scanned the tower around them, bursting with life, with color. “My life is so full that I’m not sure if given the choice, I would add something else to it.”
The assured tone of her voice left no room for pity. This was a female who had forged her own path—made her life exactly of her choosing, and did not apologize for it.
“But whatever you choose for yourself, my dear friend," she reached for Aurelia’s hand, wrapping it in her own, "I will be beside you every step of the way.”
Aurelia closed the glass door behind her, nearly missing a step down the tower stairs as a large shadow detached itself from the wall.
“Sorry—I’m sorry.” Karro reached out a hand to steady her.
She glanced around the empty hall. “What are you doing here?”
“I—” Karro’s scarlet eyes slid to the twin glass doors of Embra’s greenhouse as he rubbed a large hand roughly against the back of his neck, his words trailing off.
“Ah,” she answered.
She couldn’t understand what hold the icy female had over him, but it was plain enough in the heartsick look in his eyes.
“If it’s companionship you’re looking for," she teased, "I’ve no doubt there are two dozen females who would gladly warm your bed."
He huffed out a laugh. “There was a time when that was all I wanted,” he sighed, “when I thought that was enough.”
She nudged him in the shoulder, trying to shake the somber look from his expression. “You can’t convince me that you’ve ever been lonely,” she laughed, remembering when she’d first been introduced to him. A male who was well aware of the sway he held over females with his looks, his demeanor, his honeyed words. And it was clear he’d been honing those skills for centuries.
“I had plenty of attention in my youth—being the King’s only son. And I loved it all,” he chuckled, his smile slipping a fraction. “But once the females realized I had no intention of taking the throne—I became a conquest and nothing more.”
He shrugged his large shoulders. “I took what they offered anyway,” he glanced toward her, hurt flickering in his expression before he wiped it away with a smirk. “I’ve never been as noble as Ven."
It was so unlike the charming, gregarious male she’d come to know. This pensive, thoughtful side of Karro one that she’d only just begun to see.
But she understood him more than he realized.
“I came from a powerful family back in the Capitol,” she began, realizing she’d never told him of her past life. If Ven had confessed to Karro what kind of life she’d led—he didn’t let on. “My family used me as a lure for strategic alliances, and men were always trying to carve off a piece of my family’s power by pretending to have an interest in me. Even the one that I thought had truly loved me—the man I went back to—” She stumbled over Bastien’s name, even now. “He was just much better at hiding it than the others.” Her gaze dropped to her feet, her steps slowing as Karro halted beside her.
Karro shoved his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat. “It’s exhausting—never knowing if someone wants you for— you —or for what you might give them,” he softly replied, casting a final glance toward the tower doors. "At least with her there are no pretenses."
And she felt a fool for not seeing it until now—just under the surface of the mask he wore.
"In some ways, it’s easier," he said, sadness tingeing his deep voice, "No one to mourn me if I don’t make it home.”
Her eyes lifted to Karro’s, recognizing something there.
He wore arrogance, covered himself with bravado and used his rugged good looks and blinding smile to disarm others—but he guarded himself just the same as she had.
He just chose different weapons.