Chapter 12 #2
With his hands clasped at the small of his back, Jeros stared out the span of windows that was the only wall in the library not covered in shelves of books.
“I thank ye, old friend. I dinna expect this to go well at all. If they dinna banish me for binding with the love the prophecy foretold, even though they consider her disfigured, I may have to consider abdication.” He turned and locked eyes with Darkcord. “And ye ken what that means.”
“Sevenrest will become an island unto itself within the Seventh Realm.” The commander resettled his stance and threw out his chest. “And I shall be the Kingdom of Sevenrest’s first commander.”
Grateful for his friend’s loyalty, Jeros accepted the priceless gift with a regal nod. “I harbor no hope whatsoever of Lexi winning over the queen, but with my father…”
Darkcord made a face and twisted as if trying to ease a cramp in his muscular neck.
“The king stands against Her Majesty up to a point, but he knows well enough the power her courtiers possess. Some say he fears them, fears they would turn the rest of the Realm against him and side with the Fifth Kingdom’s demands for a new ruler. ”
Jeros snorted. “Her courtiers would not be any happier with me. I have never pleased them. ’Tis my guess they would choose either Warlen or Ganan. Either of my brothers would make a suitable puppet for her courtiers to control.”
“Due to the unrest, the Realm is poised for war not only against the Fifth Kingdom but Sevenrest as well.” Darkcord smiled proudly. “New recruits come every day, ready to vow their fealty to ye as soon as we vet them. I’ll stomach no spies in our ranks.”
“I dinna relish war.” Jeros slowly shook his head as he turned back to the wall of windows, remembering Lexi’s comments about how battles helped no one. “But I will not allow Sevenrest or my consort to be ruined—by anyone.”
“Word has it ye rejected the suggestion of a glamour to calm the situation?” Darkcord lifted both hands to fend off any ire. “I am not saying ye should reconsider, but did ye offer it to our lady?”
“I did not offer it to her.” The very idea of telling Lexi he wanted to hide her scars left a foul taste in Jeros’s mouth. “Her scars are part of her identity, part of her strength, anyone who canna see that does not deserve to be allowed in her presence.”
“Aye, but that was yerself once. Ye ken how the Fae are, how they have always been.”
“Yet I changed for the better,” Jeros growled. How dare Darkcord remind him of the past behavior that still shamed him. “Not only would such a suggestion hurt her, but the king and queen would see through any glamour placed upon her.”
A solid thump against the door made them both turn that way.
“It’s that feckin’ tiger,” Jeros said. “The beast canna stand a closed door.”
The locked door latch rattled, and a harried knocking followed. “It’s me. Let me in.”
“Lexi!” Jeros crossed the wide room in a few broad strides, unlocked the door, and yanked it open. “What is it? What is wrong?”
“I need to escape Madame Rosila and her minions for just a little while. Please.”
Jeros took his hand off the haft of his sword and exhaled in relief. He took a step back and waved her inside. “Not that I dinna relish yer company, my own, but ye must be prepared for this visit, and the modiste and her seamstresses need access to ye.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Your parents and their Court are just going to reject me anyway, and you know it.”
Jeros clenched his teeth so hard that his jaws ached. He dismissed Darkcord with a tensed jerk of his head.
“My lady.” Darkcord offered Lexi a polite bow, then hurried out, closing the door behind him.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Lexi threw herself into Jeros’s arms and hugged him tightly. “This trip will not go well. You know it won’t.”
“Aye, but we must face it. Face them. Show them we are one.”
She released him and circled the room like a caged animal, her tiger taking every step alongside her. “I don’t care if they don’t like me. Really, I don’t. It would be better if they did, but I can handle it. But how is that going to affect you? You’re the heir to the throne, right?”
“I am the heir.” He wasn’t quite ready to discuss the possibility of banishment or abdication. Deep in his gut, he sensed she would not be pleased, and she had enough to worry about for the time being.
She turned and glared him down with a look that called him on the attempted lie of omission. “Do not sidestep the answer. If they don’t accept me, what dangers does that cause for you?”
He gave a nonchalant shake of his head. “Nothing I canna handle.” He took by her hands, tugged her back into his arms, and kissed the top of her head. “As long as I have ye, I have everything I need.”
She pulled away again. “But the Seventh Realm is their Realm. Their land. Right?”
“Not all of it.” He closed the distance between them. “Sevenrest is mine. Has been since my birth.”
“But you’re surrounded by them. If they fight you on this, they have you surrounded.”
He took her hand and gently kissed it. “I protect my own, my love, and ye are my own. There is not a kingdom or a realm in any of the realities that would make me let ye go. Ye are mine, Lexi. Mine forevermore. Just as I am yers.”
The look she gave him, the emotions in her eyes, made him love her even more.
“I just wish there was a way I could fix this,” she said as she touched the scarred side of her face.
“But even with all the makeup in the world, something tells me they would still see my scars. Rill said even a glamour wouldn’t work. ”
“She suggested a glamour?” Protective rage shot through him.
“We were brainstorming. I asked her if there was anything at all we could do.” Lexi shifted with a disheartened shrug.
“I asked her about the glamour because I’d read it in a fairytale once.
I can’t remember which one. But she said the king and the queen would see through it.
Their ability to do so is part of their protection. ”
“She is right, although I dinna ken what the feckin’ hell a storm has to do with it.”
“A storm?”
“Brainstorming,” he repeated, still not quite sure about the word.
Suddenly sheepish, Lexi waved away his concerns. “It’s a figure of speech. It means everyone thinks out loud in an attempt to find a solution to a problem.”
“Like planning a battle with yer general?”
She pursed her lips, obviously weighing the description for merit. Finally, she nodded. “Yes. Like planning a battle with your general.”
“Dinna fash yerself, lass. We will be all right no matter what happens.”
“No matter what happens? What is that supposed to mean?” She flew into his arms again and hugged him even tighter than before. “I want you safe. That is all that matters.” She looked up at him. “When they don’t accept me, what will happen?”
Unwilling to lie to her, he offered the faintest shrug.
“I canna say for certain. Many times, it depends on their moods. My parents can be quite fickle.” He lowered his head and kissed her thoroughly, so thoroughly that he hungered for more than just a kiss.
He cupped the curves of her fine arse through her dress.
“Someone once told me not to borrow tomorrow’s troubles because today has enough of its own. ”
“Borrowing tomorrow’s troubles keeps one prepared,” she said, but leaned closer and molded herself against the long, hard length of him. She rocked into him with a suggestive wiggle. “I like being prepared.”
He lifted her up, walked her over to the bookcase, and backed her against it. “And that is why I dinna wear a thing under my kilt. Hold fast to the shelf and let me love ye. ’Tis solid enough, I grant ye.” He couldn’t resist a grin. “I guess ye could say I am prepared in that way as well.”
With a seductive smile, she clamped her hands onto the lip of the shelf as he rucked up her dress and buried himself inside her.
“I have always wondered what it would be like to go up against the wall with a Highlander,” she said, already sounding a little breathless.
“Going up against the bookshelves with a Fae prince will do.”
As he rocked into her with tantalizing slowness, he squeezed her arse and plunged even deeper. “Back where I belong,” he groaned. “I never shouldha left.”
“That is the problem with you,” she said with what sounded like all seriousness.
He halted pumping. “What?”
She arched her back and wiggled. “Even though you give a whole new definition to the word orgasm, I can’t ever get enough of you.”
“Same, my own. Same.” All other conversation was lost or forgotten. All he needed was her, and all she needed was him.
* * *
“Mairwen!” Keeva sounded out of breath, reminding Mairwen that she needed to speak with her assistant yet again about maintaining a sense of decorum. “They come! The outermost boundary wards just warned me.”
Mairwen stood in the doorway of the meeting hall in the Seven Cairns of the Seventh Realm’s Scotland.
She never much cared for visiting this particular plane of existence.
It hit entirely too close to home, even though her father hadn’t lived or ruled there for many an age.
“Ensure everyone stays clear of the hall,” she told Keeva.
“Princess Faeniana and each of her advisors possess wicked tempers. Collectively, they can be quite dangerous.”
“Aye, Mairwen.” Keeva darted away, disappearing into the building to connect with the villagers through the Ether, the magical matchmakers’ collective mind, the telepathic system that ensured the alarm went out to every Divine Weaver.
Those Weavers would quickly warn any mortals living among them.
Soon, every window in the village was shuttered.