Chapter 4 #4
His voice was smooth, velvety smoke that spun around me like a caress, sending delight skittering down my spine.
“I did debate the sanity of doing this, but I needed to talk to you about the current relic hunt.”
A somewhat rueful smile touched his full lips. “Whatever the reason, I am—” He cut the rest off abruptly. “What happened to your face?”
I instinctively raised a hand; the wound felt real rather than imaginary, and pain skittered lightly away from my fingertips. Weird. “I was chasing a dark elf thief down a tunnel and got thrown into a wall. Not his fault, though the bastard did try to bury me not long after that.”
His anger surged around me, through me, a heated wave of such ferocity that it briefly stole my breath... and warmed my heart.
My heart was stupid.
“Who?” he growled. “Do you know his name? Or is this what you came here for?”
“The latter.” I flexed my fingers and grimly fought the urge to let them play across the field of ebony perfection standing so close, and yet so far away. “I’m surprised Ruadhán hasn’t spoken to you. He said he was going to.”
“It is possible the call was taken by my sister. I have not spoken to her for a few hours.” He paused, his expression briefly suggesting he was about to add something else but changed his mind. “Has this anything to do with the robbery at Tylwyth Teg?”
“Yes. The same thief robbed a cottage this morning, which is where I was injured.”
Again, the fury rolled around me.
“And where was Mathi?” he growled. “He is supposed to be protecting you.”
“Since when?”
He didn’t answer, but something within suspected it was likely suggested after they’d rescued me from my aunt’s clutches.
It would also explain Mathi’s sudden insistence on me being careful, though I had no doubt most of that came from my near-death encounter and his wish not to lose me as a friend.
“He’s my liaison, not my protector,” I added. “And that aside, I’m more than capable of protecting myself.”
“I was not suggesting otherwise,” he replied evenly. “But it is also undeniable that you, trouble, and injuries seem to have a fatal attraction.”
“I’d rather label it ‘unwanted’ rather than ‘fatal’. The latter has connotations I do not want to put out there in the ether when the gods are playing their games.”
And I certainly didn’t want to think about it, especially after my father’s declaration that no matter what I did, death would be my end point.
“Describe this dark elf to me.”
“Aside from the fact he’s youngish and has very good control over the earth, I really can’t.
” I did give him the little information I’d seen in the vault and described the earthen snake he’d sent after me when I extricated myself from his trap.
“Given his formal attire when he was robbing the bank, I thought it possible he was going to Jarvil Maehdon’s funeral after he’d finished his thieving. ”
“If that is true, then we at least have a starting point.”
He seemed to be a little closer, even though he hadn’t physically moved. If I extended my arm, I could touch him now without effort... and I really did want to touch. I dug my nails into my palm, but the pain did little to erase the desire.
“Why?” I said, a little confused. “I was under the impression the funeral was very well-attended.”
“Both human and fae dignitaries were there in bulk, but only the heads of the main seven dark elf lines and their families attended.” He paused, and his fingers twitched ever so briefly. “How did he get in and out of that vault? It’s well secured against the likes of us dark elves.”
“Via a god-gifted relic.” Amusement twitched my lips. “And, how, exactly do you know that fact about the vault? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
“My father was a consultant when the bank was built.”
“Did he build in backdoor access, by chance?”
A smile briefly touched his lovely lips. “He did not. We might rule the black market, but we do not steal from the financial institutions many of our people use.”
“Do you? Use it, I mean.”
“I do have a safe deposit box there, as well as several other places. As the saying goes, it is never wise to place all your eggs in the one basket.”
“Did your mother or father have boxes there or even elsewhere?”
“Yes—why?”
“Have you checked them for Geitha’s Tears?”
The Tears being the goddess-gifted necklace that had apparently disappeared on his mother’s death.
Something flickered across his expression. Not surprise, not exactly. More... wariness. But why? He surely knew Treasa had asked me to find it—I doubted she would have lied about that.
“My father’s security box did not hold the necklace.”
“And your mother’s?”
“Was closed long ago by my father. If the Tears were in there, he made no further note of where he’d moved it to.”
“Damn.”
“Indeed.”
My gaze locked with his again, and for several seconds, I allowed myself to get lost in the warmth so visible in those gloriously smoky depths. Heat stirred through them, heat and something else. Something undefinable and rare. Something that made my heart leap and my head mock its foolishness.
“Bethany,” he whispered, reaching out to me with one hand.
I stepped back, even though every inch of me wanted to do the opposite. His hand dropped, but his fingers were once again clenched.
“I need to know what the end game is here, Cynwrig, because I’m—” in serious danger of losing my heart, and I’m not sure I could stand the devastation that will inevitably happen when you have to choose a wife.
He didn’t immediately reply, and I had the oddest feeling he knew exactly what I was thinking. Perhaps he did; perhaps the bond that seemed to be forming between us—the bond that had allowed him to hear my “resonance” on the earth—also gave him deeper insights into my heart and my mind.
“Do you trust me?” he asked eventually.
“With my life. But this is not a matter of trust; it’s about expectations, and dreams, and I—” I took a deep breath and plowed on.
“I don’t think I’m strong enough emotionally to continue this relationship.
I want to, you have to know that, but in three months’ time, when you are forced to choose a wife… it will likely break me.”
“I will never do anything to break you, that I promise.”
“You can’t possibly make such a promise, Cynwrig, because you have no control over my heart, and it has proven time and again to be extremely foolish.”
“Sometimes foolishness is required if you intend to claim the greatest prize.”
“And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you might wish otherwise, some things will always remain out of reach.”
He studied me for a few seconds, his face impassive. But his hands remained clenched and there was anger in his eyes. Whether it was aimed at me or the situation, I couldn’t say. Despite our connection, he was still better at reading me than I was him.
“The king,” he said eventually, “is not forced to choose a wife at the crowning ceremony.”
“No, because Geitha’s Tears chooses one for you.”
“Traditionally, yes, but no matter who the Tears or the goddess herself chooses, I am not duty bound to marry them.”
I couldn’t help the somewhat bitter laugh that escaped. “You would go against the wishes of your goddess to continue a relationship with a commoner like me?”
The anger flared brighter and echoed through the darkness around us. I had the strangest feeling its cause was my choice of words. “I never said that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I am doing nothing more than stating a fact—there will be no betrothal or indeed marriage unless I love the woman, and she loves me.”
“So, while you and the goddess’s chosen one set about discovering your emotional compatibility, you and I just maintain our sexual relationship?”
“What we have is far more than merely sexual.”
“And what does it matter if it is?” I cried. “It can never go anywhere, Cynwrig, because of who you are. You have to know that.”
His face became set. “What is common knowledge and what I accept are two different things.”
So his sister had said. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, not sure what to say, or do, next.
I hadn’t intended to get into a fight with him.
Far from it. But seeing him, being so close to him, not only had all the doubts that had crowded my mind before putting on the bracelet clawing their way back in, but emphasized the danger I was in.
Because if I stayed with him, if I continued a relationship with him, what was little more than a promising whisper right now would bloom into full-blown love.
And he would break my heart—break me—sooner or later.
Did I dare risk that?
Dare I not?
For all I knew, the gods had set a very short time frame for their game, and I might not have any more than a few months left anyway. Shouldn’t I accept the inevitable heartbreak and make the most of the time left to me while I still had it?
A wise woman probably would.
Trouble was, no one had ever accused me of being particularly wise.
“Bethany—”
I took another hasty step back, though I had no idea if he intended to reach for me or not. “If I do continue a relationship with you, I want it to be real. I don’t want it to be nothing more than a dream, and if that means waiting three—”
“This is real,” he cut in. “We are not dreaming. We are not walking the dreaming plane. We are here physically, not just spiritually.”
I stared at him for a second then looked around. “If this place is real, then why does it feel otherwise?”
“Because we have yet to fashion it to our wills. Think of it as a canvas waiting for the paint.”
I frowned. “Poetic as that sounds, it doesn’t really explain what this place is, or how we can use it without the risk of you being seen breaking the rules of mourning.”
“This is what we call a liminal space—a place that exists between time and space, a pocket of reality that can only be created and accessed by a certain kind of magic. The paired Bruadar bracelets contain that magic and each allows entry only to its mate.”