Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“Vesper.”
I clenched my fists, trying to pretend I couldn’t hear the call of my name, though it grew more insistent with every passing day.
I’d been plotting. Plotting and planning and scheming and…nothing. This place was like a vortex sucking me back in at every turn. All I wanted was to be set loose on my hunt for Cayde but there was no way that I could conceive to orchestrate that.
Prince Evard had been watching me closely. Princess Laurina too for that matter though I knew her focus was mostly due to distaste. She didn’t appreciate having crossborn scum at the Generals’ table, sat right before her at every meal, my pure existence a bane to her life.
Even Prince Roarson – the third brother and the one I generally regarded as little more than a philanderer with a penchant for bloodshed – paid me more attention now, though the king was as disinterested in everything as ever.
Our sovereign looked even older, more gaunt with every day yet I still doubted his death would ever come for him despite the whispers about his ill health growing louder.
I wanted to heed Moya’s warnings. Hell, I wanted to follow that fucking voice even if I wanted to snap Cayde’s neck before doing so. But more than any of that, I wanted to climb the stairs in the east tower and meet the eyes of the man who lay beyond the door there.
I swallowed as I looked up at the tower walls for what must have been the hundredth time this week alone, my heart beating faster as I wondered if he might be looking back.
I’d done what I’d had to but that didn’t make it easier.
He hated me now. There was no question of that, but still I found myself wanting to face his hatred over the simpering of the sycophants here who swooned all over me.
The same Fae who had sneered and muttered curses at my back for all those years now bowed and greeted me with bright smiles, trying to curry favour with the woman who suddenly had the power to choose which battles they fought in and decide how likely they were to meet their deaths in them.
It was sickening.
I stepped out into the training yard with my mind spinning and frantic energy making my muscles twitch. I needed a release and this was the best chance I had at getting one.
Mutters passed through the ranks of warriors who were already in the yard, those taking part in spars losing focus as my gifts drew their attention to me like moths to a flame.
“Will you watch me ride a pony?” a man shrieked from somewhere towards the back and a few others called out crude offers or claims of sexual prowess which I doubted they truly possessed.
I ignored them all, shoving the one who dared approach me back with a sharp gust of wind and trying to ignore the pang of loss as I remembered the way Dalia and Moraine had always done that for me.
A match was already taking place in the main ring but there were a few benefits to my elevation to General.
“I’m up now,” I called, taking a wooden staff from the rack of weapons which stood before the ring and testing its weight in my grip. “Any takers?”
My lips twitched as I felt the flickers of desire all around me, more than a few Fae wishing to go unnoticed in this moment, or hoping not to be selected, though of course they wouldn’t admit to such. Cowardice was frowned upon in Stormfell. And bravery was rewarded.
As if my thoughts had summoned him into action, a brute of a man shoved through the crowd, calling out his intention to fight me. I eyed him with wicked appraisal, giving a slight nod before calling out for three more volunteers to join him. I didn’t want to do easy today.
Several more Fae took up the challenge and I rolled my shoulders back as I stepped into the ring, ready to steal a moment of calm amid the crash of weapons and the pounding of flesh.
“No magic,” I called, stating the rules. “If we’re going to be up against the Void then we need to maintain our training without it. We need to be unstoppable with power or without.”
Murmurs filled the training yard and I didn’t need to eavesdrop to know what they were all saying.
What use would fighting prowess be against warriors who could drown us with a flick of their fingers?
They were right. But we had little choice other than to forge on.
It wasn’t like we were willing to concede defeat and surrender.
I didn’t waste time announcing the start of the match, throwing myself at my closest opponent instead and sweeping his feet out from beneath him with my staff.
Carnage broke out instantly, bellows of effort and grunts of force, fists flew, weapons swung and I lost myself in the rush of the fight, relishing each blow I landed and embracing every strike of pain I received too.
It was a furious, frantic thing, my opponents keen to best me and win the accolade of having done so to wear like a mantle around their necks. But I was a wild creature, and I was too lost in my own fury for them to stand a chance against me.
I let the match drag on, minutes ticking by as I toyed with them, trading blows and grinning through the pain.
The tang of blood coated my tongue and I could feel my cheek swelling from a punch I’d failed to dodge.
But all too soon I had my prey disarmed or on their backs, tapping out and begging for mercy when it looked like I might not stop.
I forced myself to fall still, the staff tumbling from my grip with a solid thump as it hit the sand.
My chest rose and fell heavily, tangled hair falling into my eyes and I let them close as I tried to lose myself in the pain of my injuries, the rush of my win.
But when I peeled my lids open again it was to find my head tilted back and my gaze pinned on the tower which held the man I’d betrayed for this pointless position.
Fae were clamouring around me, muttering pointless praise and offering me everything from tinctures to water to a turn beneath the sheets with them.
I looked up at the man who had offered that.
He was brutish and well built, a Minotaur if I wasn’t mistaken.
He wouldn’t be gentle with me if I took him up on his offer and I certainly didn’t want gentle.
But my eyes strayed beyond him once more, back to that lonely tower and the man I knew remained within it.
I spat a wad of blood from my mouth.
“Come on then,” I said, jerking my chin at the Minotaur. “Let’s see if you can handle me.”
The bastard grinned at me as he took in my acceptance of his offer, and I fought back a growl in reply.
But maybe this was what I needed. I was a creature built for sex and it had been a long fucking time since I’d had any of that.
If this bull of a man could scratch the itch which was keeping me from sleep or at least stifle it for a few hours then I would make good use of him.
“I’m Jarod,” he said reaching out to take my hand but I jerked it away.
“I don’t care what your name is. In fact, I don’t need to hear a single word from your lips. You can make better use of your mouth or I’ll have no need of it at all.”
He fell silent, his desire wrapping around me thickly, flashes of what he wanted to do to me pouring through my mind as my gifts devoured his power. He was inventive if nothing else, though his desire to tie me up while he fucked me would go unanswered. I was nothing if not dominant.
Jarod made to turn towards the city as we stepped out of the barracks, his fantasies giving me a rough idea of the layout of his home where he was hoping to take me, but I didn’t want to waste time traipsing through the fucking city.
I flicked my fingers at him and shoved him down a small alley which led behind the stables where the cavalry was housed. I didn’t need soft sheets and small comforts. I wanted rough and I wanted wild and he could take me against a wall well enough to deliver that.
Jarod made no complaint, grabbing me the moment we were concealed in the alleyway and pressing me up against the back wall of the stables, the rough wood coated with the scent of hay and manure. It was romance at its finest.
He pressed me back against the wall and leaned in to take my lips with his but I turned my head at the last moment, leaving him to press his mouth to my neck instead.
I tipped my head back, focusing on the trail his mouth left down my skin, the roughness of his lips and the bite of his teeth. He knew what he was doing at least but as my mind was overwhelmed with flashes of his fantasies of me I couldn’t help but want to shove him off of me again.
I cursed, focussing on the desire that surrounded me and letting myself fall into it, feeling the way my body heated in reply, the power of what I was coming to life and causing a ragged groan to escape him.
“Take your clothes off,” I snapped, shoving him back and I watched as he did what I said without complaint, unfastening his leathers and shucking his shirt first.
I eyed his strong physique with appreciation, taking in his powerful frame and forcing myself to think of nothing but the relief I might find if I could just take what I needed from him.
He looked at me, hunger in his eyes and I didn’t need the flash of desire to tell me that he wanted my clothes gone too.
I resisted the urge to grunt in irritation and unfastened my leathers as well, still watching him while he kicked off his boots and unbuckled his belt.
He certainly wasn’t shy, stripping himself completely bare while I tossed my jacket aside and tugged my shirt over my head, leaving my breasts contained only within the thin linen chemise I wore as an undergarment.
Jarod pointed at my trousers, clearly finding confidence in the baring of his admittedly impressive cock because he had the nerve to bark an order at me.
“Take those off,” he said and I narrowed my eyes.