Chapter 2 #2
I try to recall when I last apologized to anyone, and I come up empty. But it’s not as though I interact with many people. I rarely speak with anyone beyond the Winter King and Commander Ashvale. Instead, I keep to myself. The Lord of Nothing needs no one.
Except… I need Gwen.
And I want her.
More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life.
“Do you have medicinal herbs or healing balms in your rucksack?” she asks softly. “If so, I can apply them myself.”
“Not quite.”
Before she can question me further, I hover my free hand above her wrist and summon winter magic. Blue light gathers and emanates from my palm, and within moments, the wounds covering her left wrist are no more. Her skin is perfectly smooth with no hint of a scar.
She gasps and leans closer. “How-how did you do that?”
“Winter magic, my dearest.”
Still holding her left hand, I reach down and gently trail my fingers over her smooth, freshly healed skin.
“Will you allow me to heal your other wrist now?” I ask. “Or must I growl at you again?” A smile tugs at my lips, and it’s such an odd sensation that I almost don’t recognize it. When was the last time I smiled? I honestly don’t know.
Though I haven’t known Gwen for long, it would seem she’s already having a profound effect on me. To think that the Lord of Nothing not only issued an apology but also smiled all in the same day? Truly shocking.
“Yes,” she finally says, offering me her other wrist. “And thank you. Truly. As I stood on the auction platform, I realized I had a fever, and then I wondered if I might die.”
My chest tightens at her confession. How terrified she must have been standing on the auction platform, sweltering with a dangerously high fever, her wounded wrists bound tightly behind her back as strangers bid on her.
Strangers like me.
I find myself longing to comfort her… yet I am not certain how I might go about it.
Should I try to show her gentleness? Should I offer her a hug?
I would happily hold her in my arms again, and I’m glad it’s the only way we’ll be able to resume our travels to Ellonnar.
Unless we go on foot. But that would take almost a full day.
No, we will fly. And I will hold her again.
My sweet human mate.
My dearest.
I carefully reach for her right hand and entwine my fingers with hers. Gods, her hands are so tiny and delicate. Well, everything about her is tiny and delicate. She is so small. So… human. I will do whatever I must to keep her safe. I will not allow harm to come to her ever again.
I direct the blue light onto her wounded wrist, turning her arm gently as I strive to bathe the injury in healing rays of winter magic.
Relief fills me as I watch her final wounds heal.
A quick glance at her face shows her eyes are brighter, and I’m pleased that she appears more alert.
As I touch her skin, I realize the fever has left her body.
She is fully healed. Thank the gods.
I don’t release her hand. Instead, I cup it between my hands as I scoot closer to her on the blanket.
Soft snow flurries drift down around us, though none touch her with my wings still tucked securely around her, shielding her from the elements.
Though I can summon wind and small snowstorms, I can’t command winter in the same way King Theron can. But even when I don’t actively use my magic, snow and cold wind usually follow me everywhere. Frost, too. Though thankfully, not black frost. That hasn’t happened since the day I was born.
I dream of it often, however, the black frost cascading over ussha-blessed lands, while a dark figure lingers at the edge of my vision. A shadow figure I can never quite glimpse. Whenever I turn my head to look, it vanishes.
But they are only dreams, I remind myself, and though I don’t know what caused the black frost to appear in Vaelnor on the day I was born, I take comfort in the fact that it only happened once.
Pushing thoughts of my past aside, I focus on Gwen.
My mate. Somehow, I will create a home for her.
But can I make her happy? Given her initial fear of me, I don’t believe she can sense the bond between us.
That may prove problematic. If she wishes to escape me, only to discover how adamantly I intend to keep her, will she grow to resent me for holding her captive?
I cannot fathom letting her go.
Not even if she begs for freedom.
The possessiveness I feel for her takes a dark turn as I imagine truly holding her captive. Keeping her locked up. And chasing her down if she ever manages to run from me.
A growl builds in my throat, but I swallow it back.
I force myself to focus on the tenderness I feel for Gwen, the boundless warmth that spread through me the moment I first saw her standing on the auction platform.
Given that I lost everything on the day I was born, I always assumed I didn’t have a fated mate. I assumed the gods wouldn’t grant me one. Yet the impossible has come to pass. I have a fated mate. Gwen.
Now that I’ve found her, this tiny, beautiful human, I will never let her go. No, not even if she begs.
I release her wrist and reach back for a waterskin and a pouch that holds dried berries and nuts. I carefully place the items in her lap and give her an encouraging look.
Her lower lip quivers as she stares down at the offering.
“Thank you,” she says in a broken whisper.
Tears stream down her face as she takes a long drink of water.
I’m not certain why she’s crying, but I wish I knew how to help settle her emotions.
Eventually, she lowers the waterskin and focuses on the berries and nuts.
I remain silent as she eats her fill, carefully watching her, while thinking about the decadent meals I will order for her in Ellonnar.
For as long as I am with her, she will never go thirsty or hungry again.
Once she’s eaten her fill and taken another drink, she passes the waterskin and the pouch back to me.
“Thank you again,” she whispers.
I give her a faint smile, or at least I try to, before returning the items to my rucksack. Smiling still feels strange. Almost painful. But for her, I will keep trying. If I’m constantly glowering at her, I doubt she will so easily accept me as her mate.
Overcome by the need to touch her, I reach out to cup her face in both my hands. Her breath catches as she holds my gaze. Her cheeks also become flushed in a way I find very beautiful.
I can’t quite sense her thoughts, but every so often, her emotions touch me, as though her spirit is reaching directly for my heart. Right now, she’s frightened and worried.
“The deserters who took you are dead,” I say, wanting her to understand the lengths I will go to protect her, as well as to avenge any wrongs committed against her. “I killed them just after they confessed to selling you to the slavers in the mountain village.”
“I suppose that’s a comfort.” She draws in a shaky breath.
“They taunted me during the journey to the village. They said that since they couldn’t detect the scent of a male on me, they realized I was probably untouched.
An innocent. They said that made me more valuable, though until we reached the mountain village, I didn’t understand they meant to sell me.
The other humans they took from the dungeons, two young men, didn’t survive the journey.
They tried to escape one night, but the deserters caught them.
I heard the sound of their slaughter, though I didn’t witness it. ”
I run a hand through her mussed hair. Though her tresses are unwashed, and she’s covered in dirt, I still find her the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Once we reach Ellonnar, I will secure the finest lodgings available and see to her comfort.
“I am sorry for what happened to you, my dearest, but I am glad to learn the deserters didn’t force themselves on you.
” I glance at her healed wrists. “Though after seeing what they did to your wrists, I wish I’d made their deaths more painful.
And slower. They should’ve suffered more for what they did to you. ”
Her eyes widen slightly, and she stares at me as though she’s trying to figure me out. I open my mind to her, but I don’t feel her thoughts brushing against mine. Not intentionally. She still can’t sense the bond. My heart sinks, but I quickly remind myself that we’ve only just met.
I also resolve that we will linger in Ellonnar and enjoy all the fae settlement has to offer as we get to know one another.
The Winter Court army can wait. I was ordered to track Gwen down and bring her back with me, but King Theron never said that I must bring her back immediately.
Was it implied? Yes. But it wasn’t a direct order.
“As you know, I was taken on Tribute Day in Braemar because my family couldn’t afford the ten pieces of silver.
” She swallows hard, and her eyes gleam with tears.
“I am wondering what happens now. Am I to be taken back to the Winter Court army and forced into servitude? Am I to become a slave to your people?”
A lone tear cascades down her face.
I immediately wipe it away.
Gods, how do I answer her question?
I’m hesitant to announce that we are mates.
I fear that if I state it outright, she will instantly reject me.
And then what will I become? A monster who is holding her captive.
A male who refuses to let her go, no matter how desperately she wishes for freedom.
I don’t want that. I want her to grow to trust me first, perhaps even to care for me, in a natural way, before she discovers that we are mates.
Lord of Nothing. The title whispers through my mind, a taunting hiss.
Am I wrong to keep her? If she learns about the nickname and the reason for it, will she fear that I am cursed?
Many of Vaelnor’s former inhabitants certainly do.
They see me as a harbinger of doom. My birth heralded ruin and death, the complete destruction of the province my family had governed for thousands of years.
“Please,” she whispers. “Please, I must know what is going to happen next.”
“First, I am taking you to a fae settlement called Ellonnar. We will secure lodging, and I will see you fed, bathed, and properly clothed. I will allow you a few days to rest and recover. Eventually, we will rejoin the Winter Court army. However, you will not be forced into slavery in our war camp.” I cup her cheek.
“You are mine, Gwen, and you will remain under my protection.”
She emits a tiny gasp and tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold on her face and tuck my wings more firmly around her. I don’t allow her to look away. I can’t soften the fact that I paid for her.
Technically, I own her.
I paid twenty pieces of silver for her.
That overrides her status as a tribute-cursed slave to the Winter Court.
And I can’t deny that there’s a dark part of me that likes knowing I own her. Even if we weren’t mates, no one could take her away from me.
“So, you truly are my new master,” she says, and a few more tears roll down her face.
Cursing myself, I quickly wipe away her tears. Perhaps I spoke wrong. Perhaps she doesn’t think belonging to one fae male is better than belonging to the entire Winter Court army. Or perhaps she simply wants to go home.
I can’t deny that I’m her master. Yes, I do own her. So, I don’t refute her statement. Instead, I decide to reassure her of my intentions without revealing what we are to one another.
“I promised to keep you safe, my dearest. And I promised never to hurt you. I will throw myself into a mangga swarm before I break such promises to you.” I lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. Then I place my lips at her ear. “I intend to keep you as mine, Gwen. Forever.”