Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
D rake seated himself in the chair across from Ariesian’s desk. The Starstorm lord’s study was quiet, save for the crackling of orange flames in the hearth. Shelves of books lined one wall and there was a rather impressive tapestry with shimmering thread depicting a stag leaping into the night sky. Sitting on a three-legged pedestal was a silver statue carved to resemble a hand. Above its open palm and outstretched fingers, an astrolabe floated and whirred, its golden globe encircled by watercolors of turquoise and midnight blue. Gilded constellations swirled around it as an eight-pointed star flanked by two crescent moons hovered over the sphere like a shimmering crystalline orb. Four large windows framed the hearth, and hanging behind Ariesian was a painted portrait of the Starstorm family. His parents stood in the background, surrounded by all eight children.
Curiosity got the best of Drake, and he found his gaze drawn to Creslyn’s youthful face. Though her twin, Caelian, was seated next to her in the portrait, there was no mistaking the stark differences between them. For most, the only noticeable distinction was the dusting of constellation-like freckles across Creslyn’s nose and cheeks. But Drake saw more—the slight tilt of her head, as though she’d rather be anywhere else. The distinctive curve of the corner of her mouth, the sort of smile one would offer when they were harboring a secret. The darkness in her sapphire eyes, the ones that seemed to drown him every time he looked into them too closely. They were not the bright and bold blue of Caelian’s…no, Creslyn’s eyes were full of cunning intrigue, a complexity she kept well hidden beneath the facade of her perfectly angelic exterior.
Wicked little faerie.
Across from him, Ariesian drummed his fingers on the edge of the desk. Its surface was glossy and free from clutter, each piece of parchment had its place in a tidy little stack.
Tension stretched taut between them, a constant strain, a pull of who held more power. Of who would be the first to let go.
“I noticed there is no ring on Creslyn’s finger.” Ariesian’s jaw popped, and his dark brows drew together. “You have not yet made her your wife?”
“I have not,” Drake replied evenly, though that would change soon enough.
“Is she not up to your standards?” Ariesian’s words were curt. Threatening. He sat forward and steepled his fingers together, the silver of his eyes as hard and as cold as steel.
“Lady Creslyn suits me fine.” More than fine, though he highly doubted her brother wanted to hear the sordid details of all the things Drake wanted to do to her. He ran his thumb along his bottom lip, over the abrasive cut left behind by Solarius’s fist. “But with all due respect, my lord, marriage rites in Brackroth differ vastly from those in Aeramere.”
Ariesian edged back into his seat, shifting uncomfortably. He pressed his lips together, considering. Then finally he asked, “How so?”
“I imagine the fae perform a hand binding ceremony or use some other magical means to form a union.” Drake’s brow lifted in question, and Ariesian nodded.
“Correct.” He rocked back in his seat, stretching out his legs, and crossing one ankle over the other. “Though it varies with each couple. When two mates are fated and a bond forms between them, such as in the case of Novalise and Asher, when they seal their vows with a kiss, their magic will bind.”
“You’re saying they will share each other’s power?” Drake asked.
Ariesian shook his head. “Not quite. In the instance of mating bonds, the magic must choose one another. It’s a joining of sorts, but Asher will not gain the starstorm, and Novalise will not acquire his frostfire. I suppose it’s more like a formality, a union of their magic for show and nothing else.”
“I see.” Drake considered this information. “Then not every fae in Aeramere will ever find a mate?”
“A mate, certainly.” Ariesian lifted one finger. “But a mating bond, finding the one who is fated for you, is not always guaranteed. As I said before, the magic must choose, but even then, a fae can deny the bond. Just as such bonds can be broken. Though I’ve heard it’s the most atrocious kind of pain imaginable.”
“Indeed.” Drake held out his hand, palm up, mimicking the slice of a blade. “In Brackroth, we seal our lives to one another through blood.”
Ariesian paled. “What, like blood magic?”
“I wouldn’t call it magic . More like a ritual. The combination of blood is tradition, it’s the joining of two souls.” Drake lounged in his chair, his mind drifting to the moment when he would cut his palm and press it against Creslyn’s. To the moment their blood would mingle. To the moment when he would have to make a gut-wrenching choice. “Lady Creslyn may think she is ready to be my wife, but she must first accept all of me. Every shadow. Every secret.”
The Starstorm lord glowered, the sharp lines of his face highlighted by the rigid flashes of warmth from the hearth. He inhaled, his shoulders rolling back with the same calm fury Drake had witnessed a thousand times before.
“You intend to corrupt her.” His accusation was harsh, though not altogether erroneous.
Drake wouldn’t ever admit to corrupting Creslyn. It was more like an awakening. Though he kept those thoughts to himself.
He offered a calculated smile instead. “Without the darkness, a star can never shine.”
Ariesian slammed his fist on the desk, rattling a small jar of ink. The dark liquid spilled over the side, staining the wooden surface. Power emanated from him, a mighty throng of vast shadows and piercing starlight.
Ah, there was the potent magic of the Lord of House Celestine. The violent tempest he kept so tightly under control.
“And with the exception of her being thrown from a cliff in your absence,” Ariesian ground out, “you intend to keep her safe?”
Intend was such a fickle word.
Intentions could always be swayed.
Drake was no such man.
He leaned forward, leveling the lord with a menacing glare. “I will end the life of anyone who attempts to harm her. Creslyn is mine .”
Ariesian’s eyes expanded, the lines of rage set against his forehead easing. “You love her, then?”
“Do we truly love anything?” Drake asked with a hint of amusement. He rolled his wrist, gesturing to nothing and everything at once. “Many have done foolish things in the name of love.”
He ignored Ariesian’s scoff of arrogance.
“If you’re asking if I will shower her with affection, appease her on a daily basis, and write poems in her honor, the answer is no. But if you’re asking if I will defend her name, remain faithful only to her, and slay all of her enemies without hesitation, then yes.”
Ariesian studied him a moment longer before expelling a gruff breath of frustration. “Fair enough.”
“I assume you didn’t ask me here to discuss your sister.” Drake rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, his boot tapping a slow, measured rhythm against the hardwood floor. “What’s on your mind, Lord Starstorm?”
Ariesian ran both hands through his silver hair, but the pieces fell back in front of his face. “I took heed of your advice during Midsummer and formed an alliance with House Azurvend.”
“So I noticed,” Drake mused, roughing his knuckles along his jaw in an effort to disguise his smirk. “Solarius seems thrilled with the betrothal to the water faerie.”
Ariesian grunted in response, rolling his eyes to the beams of dark wood stretching overhead. “He could do far worse. Lady Narissa is amicable, attractive, and more than tolerant of his roguish manners. If anything, she’ll help him get over that miserable human who repeatedly ripped his heart out for fun.”
“Indeed.” This conversation, however, brought up another matter entirely. Drake inclined his head. “I do hope you realize the likeliness of Creslyn and I returning to Aeramere for every sibling’s wedding is slim.”
“Trust me, Your Highness.” Ariesian rolled his neck from side to side, his bones cracking slightly during the adjustment. “There are many days I wish I were able to leave myself.”
Drake nodded, understanding the need for escape. “Has the situation changed?”
“You tell me.”
He reached under the table and pulled out a decanter of whiskey and two glasses. Filling them both to the rim with the golden liquid, he passed one to Drake. He lifted his cup and Drake followed suit, the glasses clinking before they each downed the alcohol in one gulp. Ariesian twirled his empty glass in his hand, eyeing it as though it might refill on its own.
“The last time you were here, you offered House Celestine protection in exchange for the hand of one of my sisters. To which you were granted Creslyn.” He set the glass down. “However, the details you provided were incredibly vague. So much so that it made me wonder what the Prince of Brackroth could stand to gain from such a contract, unless something was in it for him.”
Drake lifted one shoulder, then let it fall. “Yet you agreed.”
“I have seven siblings whose wellbeing falls to me. Four of whom are female, which makes it much more…agonizing. Thanks to you and Lord Firebane, I’m down to two. That being said,” he paused, tugging at the collar of his shirt, “I am not one to take a threat lightly. Rumors have been circulating about Prince Aspen’s involvement in rebellions to the north near House Galefell. If the prospect of any such perils endangers my house and my family, I will stop at nothing to end it. Even if it comes from within Aeramere.”
Drake stared at him from across the desk, his gaze unwavering. “I said the threat could come from within , I never specified Aeramere.”
Ariesian straightened. “What are you insinuating, my lord?”
“Only that you should be mindful of the company you keep.” There was only so much Drake could reveal, only so much he knew , for dark magic came with its own kind of binding rules. He could not alter the fates’ design no more than he could weave the pattern of destiny. “Three very specific constellations aligned for Lady Novalise during Midsummer, did they not? The Great Stag, Aedes the Fae Warrior, and Vespira the Druid. If I recall, Novalise mentioned them being a sign of war. Which is curious, considering the stars never lie.”
Almost instantly, Ariesian sobered. His expression morphed into one of practiced composure, entirely unreadable. “You truly think a war is coming to Aeramere?”
“I think it’s already here.” With that, Drake rose from his seat and straightened his vest. “Though the grass remains still, the serpent does not rest.”
Ariesian stood, nodding once. “I will remain vigilant.”
“As you should.”
Drake left Ariesian’s study then, his footfalls silent as he walked the sparkling starlit halls of House Celestine.
His mind drifted to thoughts of war. It was always such a grueling process. The battles and bloodshed. The terrors, the screams, the wading through mountains of bodies and burying the dead. Aeramere was pristine, a picture-perfect realm of magic and beauty. It would be a shame if it crumbled under the brutality of battle. Drake was prepared for such an instance though, and he would not hesitate to offer Creslyn’s family the support he promised when the need ever arose.
He continued his slow, leisurely pace through the majestic house, but something prodded his thoughts, begging him to take notice. To acknowledge. It was something Ariesian said to him earlier on in their conversation.
Unless something was in it for him.
Of course something was in it for him.
He chose to strike an accord with the Starstorm family for a reason . Granted, Creslyn had been a wondrous surprise, but now, he planned on marrying her for a reason .
Drake wanted her blood.