Chapter 9
GWEN
Two days later, the blizzard is still raging.
I stand at the large front window near the balcony doors, staring out at the wall of white.
I can’t even see the outline of the mountains this morning, nor the nearest houses or shops.
I’m a little disappointed that we’re stuck inside and can’t finish exploring Ellonnar, as tomorrow night will be our last at the inn, but Merak has been good company.
Even though he’s my master.
Even though he’s still adamant that he’ll never let me go.
But the truth is, I like spending time with him.
I enjoy the quiet moments spent by the fire most of all, particularly when we each have a book spread out on our lap.
It feels cozy and intimate. After the terror of the fortnight I spent in the deserter-soldiers’ captivity, followed by the horror on the auction platform and fearing I might die from my festering wounds, it has been rather healing to spend time in a place that’s warm and safe…
a place that feels like a fortress. Especially when Merak never judges me for poring over the maps and trade routes in the books he purchased for me.
Sometimes when he catches me looking at a particular landmark on a map, one he’s glimpsed with his own eyes, he even takes a moment to describe it to me in great detail, helping to paint a vivid picture in my mind.
I turn at the sound of his footsteps. He strides out of the bedroom, having slept later than me, wearing nothing but a pair of soft trousers rather than his usual leathers. My heart races at the sight of his bare, muscular chest, and a heated flush rushes through me.
“You should’ve woken me up, my dearest.” He approaches and immediately takes me into his arms, holding me close to his chest as he places a kiss atop my head.
I flush again.
I also suddenly feel like I’m floating.
Whenever he kisses my forehead or the crown of my hair, tingles sweep through my body and warmth quakes between my thighs. I can’t help but wonder if he ever plans to kiss me on the lips. He’s had plenty of opportunities. But then so have I. Is he waiting for me to initiate our first kiss?
I shouldn’t want to kiss him. I shouldn’t want to be close to him.
He’s the highborn fae male who owns me, and while things are pleasant between us right now, I worry about what will happen once he takes me back to the Winter Court army’s war camp.
I don’t want to witness the destruction of more human villages and cities.
I also worry about the conditions the other human slaves are enduring in the war camp.
If I witness atrocities being committed against my own people, atrocities in which Merak is complicit, I suspect I’ll start seeing him differently.
Perhaps I will see him as he truly is—a conqueror of my people.
A monster. A killer.
He stiffens and makes a strange noise in his throat, almost a growl, and for a moment I worry that he somehow heard my thoughts. While I appreciate that his fae magic healed me, saved my life, even, I am still wary of it. I don’t know the full extent of his powers, and I’ve been hesitant to ask.
But maybe I need to change that. Maybe I should ask him more about himself.
I don’t know a thing about him other than that he’s a highborn fae male who serves as a tracker and aerial scout for the Winter Court army.
I don’t know anything about his lands in the Winter Court and whether they’ve already fallen into ruin, and I don’t know whether his parents are still alive or if he has siblings.
A dark thought strikes me.
What if he has a mate?
I try to remember everything I’ve ever learned about the fae, knowledge I mostly gathered by hanging around the traveling merchants on market day back in Braemar. I know they have fated mates. Has Merak met his yet?
How old is he? What sort of mischief did he get into as a child?
Does he have any hobbies or interests? What about a favorite territory in the realm, or perhaps a favorite city?
Gods, I even find myself wondering what his favorite dessert might be.
My mind spins as I consider all the questions I suddenly want to ask him.
He withdraws slowly from the hug and gently grasps my upper arms. He looks me up and down, and I flush as I wonder whether my nightdress is too transparent.
I’m not wearing any undergarments beneath, nor am I wearing the purple robe this morning.
The hearth was already blazing when I awoke, since the servants tend to arrive early while we’re still sleeping to tidy the place and rekindle the fire.
And I didn’t dress yet because I didn’t want to wake Merak as I rummaged around the bedroom.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I can ring the bell to request breakfast.”
The way he studies me so intently causes my mouth to go dry.
“Yes,” I finally reply. Famished. I would add that last word if I were braver. Brave enough to tease him. My pulse quickens as I imagine how he might respond if I said something so bold.
A short while later, I find myself seated across from the handsome fae male at the breakfast table, a massive spread of food between us.
I sip my tea and nibble on the sweetcakes as I consider the first question I should ask Merak.
Flutters erupt in my stomach, but I’m not certain why I’m so nervous to learn more about him.
“How old are you?” I ask. There. That’s a safe, uncomplicated question. A perfect opening line. I nearly pat myself on the back.
He sets his cup of tea down and regards me with a slightly amused look.
“I am four hundred and sixty-eight,” he says. “And if I’m remembering correctly… you are twenty-two, are you not?”
“Yes, that is correct. I’m twenty-two. How did you know?”
“King Theron mentioned that you were the same age as his mate. I once heard him tell Helena that she was too bossy for a female who was only twenty-two.” He smirks, then reaches for one of the large blue ice-berries on the fruit platter.
I fall silent for a moment as I ponder his curious statement.
“Helena is human… but she is truly King Theron’s fated mate, rather than a concubine?
” This question feels particularly dangerous.
But I must know. I must know if it’s true that the fae can sometimes be fated to humans.
Some of the traveling merchants claim it’s possible, while others have said it’s a myth.
He stares at me unblinkingly and gives a slow nod. “Yes, she is truly the king’s fated mate, though from what I’ve heard, she was fae in a former life, and in that former life she was King Theron’s mate then as well. She was born into this life as a human, however, and King Theron found her again.”
“Oh. So… your people are only fated to humans if the human was fae in a former life and…” My voice trails off as I think about the outlandishness of what I’m trying to ask. Maybe I should drop the subject entirely.
“King Theron and Helena are a special case,” he says, still staring at me unblinkingly. “I have never heard of a reincarnated soul finding their mate again in quite the way they have. But my people are sometimes fated to humans and even orcs. It’s rare, though it happens.”
His eyes flicker with longing, and even if I couldn’t sense his emotions right now, I would know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling.
He desires me. He wants to claim me.
Does he think I’m his mate?
My stomach flips at the prospect.
I try to glean his thoughts and feelings on the matter, but when I try to brush my mind against his, it doesn’t quite work. It’s as though he’s blocking me.
But if he believed we were mates, surely he would’ve told me by now.
Surely he wouldn’t keep it a secret.
A question lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to ask it.
Maybe I really am a coward. I want to ask if he’s met his fated mate yet.
I want to ask if he has a female waiting for him at the war camp or perhaps living in one of the new fae settlements beyond the borders of the fading Winter Court.
Gods, he might even have children—children who could easily be older than I am.
“Well, I imagine it’s rather tragic when one of your people is fated to a human or an orc. I mean, fae live for thousands of years. Humans and orcs are lucky to reach ninety years or so.”
He leans forward, then reaches across the table to take my hand.
My pulse thunders in my ears.
“When one of my people is fated to a human or an orc, as long as they physically consummate the union and live together more days than not, the human or orc’s lifespan will end up matching that of their fae mate’s.”
I gasp. “How is that possible?”
His eyes glimmer with excitement. “Fae magic,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“Well, I suppose it’s not as tragic as I imagined then.” I try to extract my hand from his, but he doesn’t release me. My heart won’t cease racing.
All at once, I wish I were alone. Not because Merak has done anything to offend me or make me angry, but because I desperately want some alone time to consider all he’s just told me. I keep sensing his emotions and catching fragments of his thoughts, and I’m starting to fear what it might mean.
A dark suspicion lurks at the back of my mind, trying to push to the surface, but I am afraid to examine the idea while in Merak’s presence.
What if he can also sense my emotions… or worse, my actual thoughts?
A loud thump sounds on the balcony. I startle and peer toward the sound. It almost sounded like a bird flying into the glass, but surely a bird wouldn’t be out in this storm.
Merak growls, releases my hand, and pushes up from the table.
He approaches the balcony with slow steps, and I nearly gasp when I notice the blue light gathering in his palms. I doubt it’s healing magic.
It’s not quite the same shade of blue as the light he used to mend my festering wounds.
It’s darker, and I swear I can sense the vicious energy behind it.