Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Titus
“Idon’t like this,” I grunt and slam the door. My fingers curl around the knob, not wanting to let go.
Turning, I look at my brother, at his black hair that mirrors mine.
It used to be longer before they made us child soldiers.
I used to ruffle it when we played tackle.
After our parents died, we were sent to the castle as wards of the kingdom.
They shaved our hair, replaced our carved wooden action figures with dull blades to train with.
We never tackled for fun again.
I believed, with na?ve optimism, that after the war ended, my family could look at a field and imagine building homes on it, not battles.
Everett altered that.
I battle the stages of grief. At this moment, I abhor what Everett forced upon me.
“I know. It’s too goddamn early,” Tristen, my brother, sighs as he rubs his eyes. The hickey on his neck is cherry red with purple spots.
That reminds me, I need to get laid. I sink into the bed and tell Tristen everything Selene and I discussed.
I kept one secret. My desire for her.
Could the attraction be a trick fae use? I want to see if Tristen falls prey to it today.
Galen agreed with my suggestion of having my brother as my guard. It’s genius of Selene. Reckless of me to accept.
I hope it wasn’t a misstep.
That’s what Selene is wearing! Her leathers are so tight that they practically replace her skin.
Her leggings wrap and curl around her thighs, stretching over her feminine hips.
This war could have been ended in a day.
All Selene had to do was walk into battle wearing that.
Men would have thrown down their swords and bowed down.
Fuck me.
Please fuck me. Pretty, pretty please.
I look over at my brother. Oh shit! Tristen’s head is tipped down, eyes glued to the floor. I know my brother; he sleeps around. He’s a flirt, regardless of whether the woman has a crown or knots in her hair.
Were Selene to wield such power, Tristen’s reaction would mirror mine.
I kick his shoe.
He arches a brow. What?
I nudge my head. Look at her? Do you feel it too?
His lips press stubbornly. What are you talking about?
He clears his throat. Selene knows we’re here; Mary, her maid, is helping equip her weapons.
“Is there a war?” I break the silence.
Selene glares at me, keeping up the charade in front of Mary that she detests my presence.
“War is a horizon that never fades from the sky, General. It is a constant burning sun. Its light and heat will always warm the flesh. There is no peace from it, General.”
General.
I hate that name. Call me Titus; let me hear my name on your lips.
Shit! What the heck! Why can’t it stop?
My gulp is as loud as a hammer digging into the stone. My stomach is in a knot so tight Tristen can feel the tension.
Selene’s eyes narrow. “That’s all, Mary. You may go. I know Galen demands your whispers, so tell him I’m off to train. His general will be my target. Let’s hope he survives until sundown.”
Tristen spreads his legs wide and steps an inch closer to me. It’s a talent to know when Selene is acting. At times, the knowledge eludes my comprehension.
Mary nods and leaves.
“Close the door,” Selene orders in a hushed whisper.
Tristen moves, and as soon as the door shuts, the silencing spell ignites. “You’re the brother,” Selene states with a lackluster tone.
Nothing about Tristen is lacking. Nothing. Yes, he’s a goof, but I would be wary of challenging him in a duel. That smile he wears? It’s sociable and playful. It hides his fangs, which he will use in a fight. If need be.
He’s not ruthless. Each deed undergoes evaluation, though frequently he deems the assessment worth the gamble. Tristen is a predator who finds satisfaction in beguiling his prey into thinking they’re acquaintances.
Each time you laugh, he sees behind your walls.
Every time you smirk at his joke, he peels another layer off your defenses.
Tristen, bless his foolish heart, tries to lighten the mood. “Challenge accepted.” He flashes his trademark half-smirk.
“What challenge?” Selene crosses her arms.
“The battle to make you see me as a friend.”
“I need allies with armies. Not best friend bracelets.”
“My queen.” Tristen slaps his palm to his heart, “I assure you I make the finest bestie trinkets. They shall outshine your crown.” He smiles, and so does Selene.
That smile. Why hasn’t Selene shown it to me before?
“He knows everything? Titus, hello? Have you told Tristen everything?”
Thump, thump! I glare at her pulse. How would it feel to have it tenderly hum against my lips as I drank her down?
“Titus!” Selene snaps.
Bloodlust. Again.
I turn abruptly and grab a vial of blood from my pocket. I drank only half a ration this morning. I packed this in case I need to recharge.
“Titus?” Tristen steps closer.
I shake my head. “I’m fine. It’s Everett’s magic.” I gulp down the small vial.
Lies. It has nothing to do with Everett’s magic.
“That’s not fae magic in your eyes, brother,” Tristen whispers; his concern corners me to answer for my crimes.
Selene’s sigh sinks into my skin, relaxing me. “We will get this under control,” she assures me. “We’re leaving the castle. I can’t risk these walls. We’ll train every day we’re able to.”
“Training?” I turn back around.
Yeah, I see you, brother. Tris knows I’m lying. I didn’t need that blood because of the magic. I needed it because I was about to sink my teeth into the queen’s neck.
Tristen steps closer, ready to tackle me.
Yesterday I felt the need to taste her. Today it’s worse; it’s spreading like a rash. I see it. Feel it. I’m trying not to itch it. Once I do, I won’t be able to stop.
At this point, Tristen is going to cling to me like a monkey on a branch. He knows the signs of bloodlust.
Shit, he is questioning why I’m having it.
Am I deprived of blood? Marginally, but that doesn’t provoke urges this strong. A vampire would need weeks without blood to trigger bloodlust, or they would have to be regulars who binge on blood to get drunk.
I’m neither.
Which means the urge to drink from Selene is claiming.
Claiming? Admit the actual word behind it.
I can’t. Not yet.
Sometimes the need to claim is apparent. It grips you so profoundly that each side knows what is happening.
Occasionally, fate is wicked. It prefers to play games. The need to claim can be tedious, like a predator stepping out from an uncharted forest. Hesitant, careful to make sure it survives.
“Holy shit!” Tristen mutters, but the fool says it loud enough to capture Selena’s attention.
“What?”
“Nothing?” I bark, my eyes dig into Tristen like a nail pressing a warning sign into soft wood. Shut up! It is not that!
His forehead wrinkles. Tell me, what is it then?
“You two truly can speak without words,” Selene remarks. “This can come in handy.”
“We’re brothers,” I mutter. Regret coats my tongue as soon as the words slip free. I hang my head. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t mean to bring up Everett.
“Tristen, please help your brother,” Selene sneers. “He has a sickening need to apologize after every utterance. An odd trait for a soldier. An annoying one. Our boat is built; we’re all inside. No more regrets. We must learn how to paddle. If not, we all shall sink.”
“Speaking of navigating waters. What about Sable?” I ask.
Selene crosses her arms, her gaze flicking towards the door. “What about her?”
A cloud shifts, and morning light pours into the room. Strands of her black hair catch the glow, turning the edges gold.
“I picked you,” I say.
A flicker of blush blooms on her cheeks, but it’s gone as suddenly as it comes.
“Sable’s got a bone to pick with me.” I shift so my back is to the door, blocking her exit. “We’re not leaving until you assure me my brother is safe from Sable.”
Her unflinching eyes lock with mine. “She will not attack you. She’ll aim for me. Consider me your shield, Titus.”
“I don’t need a shield.” My chest stiffens as my brows pull together.
“Then call me your sword.” She speaks loud enough to turn this into a duel of titles and power.
You want me to bend a knee? Fine. I can fight when on the ground, my queen. I’ll protect you, my brother, and Everett’s magic.
“Don’t question me,” she commands.
I step close enough to feel her body tremor. “That’s not how this friendship works, Selene.” My voice drops low. “My brother’s life is on the line now! I ask, you answer.”
“Now you sound like my husband.”
It’s a slap in the face, “Never compare me to a man who deceives and cheats. I’ll kneel for you, obey your demands, but unlike Galen, I expect you to do the same. If you ask me, I answer truthfully. Show me equal respect.”
The steel in her posture melts; her arms drop to her side.
“When I sense Sable’s attack, I will let you know. I promise. We have time before this happens. Galen already put her in the dungeons. She’ll be cautious now. The most important thing is getting a handle on your new magic.”
“No, that is not the most important thing. It is you. You’re my queen,” I retort.
“Did you forget about me, big brother?” Tristen steps closer, wedging himself between us. His tone is light, but his eyes are full of concern as he glares at me.
“He’s right.”
I don’t reply. I memorize all of her unique features, like those sharp, angled eyes that the fae of Solaria are known for, along with their sun-kissed skin and rich, dark hair.
Selene clasps her hands, “We will train everyday. If Galen comes to watch, which he never does, we’ll pretend it’s my normal sparing routine. Tristen, you’ll need to stay vigilant while on guard and alert Titus if you sense anyone approaching.”
Just like that, she’s all hard edges and impenetrable walls once more.
I square my shoulders, facing her. A braid holds her hair in a tight, high ponytail. Her face is bare, green eyes cold and serious like an age-old tree that belongs in shadowy lands.
No matter the garment, Selene has the power to silence.
“That’s your training uniform?” My words are more of a wheeze.