Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Titus
No, that looks like shit! A groan escapes me as I sweep my hair to the side. Do I look mangy with hair this long? It’s been long since my last pre-battle shave.
What the fuck am I doing? When did I start caring about how my hair looked?
Before I turn, I push my hair back to the other side; then I grab my sword—the sword Galen gifted me—and strap it onto my hip. I hate the feeling of its weight.
I like my sword. I trust my sword.
I don’t want a gift for killing. I want freedom.
I want his wife.
“Holy fuck!” I seal my eyes shut, thankful Galen can’t read minds. I’d be killed slowly, flayed alive, and kept breathing so I could feel the birds picking me apart.
Where the fuck is Tristen?
He didn’t come home after he went to search the library. He either found a hot librarian, or he picked up a book and tried to read it, then he remembered how he struggled to read as a kid, so he went drinking.
Fresh air washes over my forehead as I approach the window, peering outside. Shit, it’s a nice view from the queen’s tower. Gardens and the village outskirts are visible. Galen’s tower has a view of the front gates and the barracks. He’s always got his eye on his men and their abilities.
I roll my shoulders and tip my head back. This is my favorite time, when the moon yields to the rising sun, and darkness and light coexist, each submissive so they can look upon each other.
Peace.
My days start like this now. Tristen and I wake up early. We eat breakfast with the other guards, report for duty, Selene and I train, but unlike the sun and moon sharing the sky, my time with Selene is a constant battle of denial.
Our survival depends on following the example set by the sun and moon.
They must keep a far distance, for if they collide, it would be the end of so many things.
Clunk! I jerk as the door swings open. My hands slip free from the window ledge. Tristen walks in with tired and messy hair. I scan his neck for signs of his hookup, but instead I find clean, unmarked skin and no blood staining his collar.
“Where have you been?” I grunt. Being part of the queen’s guard means he can’t spend all night fucking around.
Instead of Tristen’s usual swagger and goofy grin, he’s pale, and… is that what his serious face looks like?
“What happened?” I take a cautious step forward. My worn-out boots feel different, unused, like they need to be broken in. Each day feels like this.
Tristen kicks the door behind him and licks his lips. He closes the distance and hugs me. My breath is knocked out of my lungs in a whoosh. He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “I found someone in the library.”
I exhale, pulling back slightly so I can look him in the eyes.
He hurries to add, “It’s not what you think. I wasn’t hooking up with a hot librarian.” He pulls me back in for a hug. I stiffen and float in his arms like a wooden log tossed into an ocean. I allow him to cling to me.
Reaching up, I hug him back, pressing the tips of my fingers into his muscles so I can feel every inch of my little brother. We hug before battle, so I know what this means.
He thinks we’re about to go to war. He fears a final goodbye, just as I do.
I smell his hair, catching the scent of soap. Little curls start to twist at the ends of his strands. I look at the color, shades of black, ink spilled onto a white page; some parts are drier and darker, while others are a shade less saturated.
I try to remember what the muscles on his back feel like.
He’s strong. He won’t be killed today.
I won’t allow it.
That’s a lie I tell myself before we separate. We try to stay together on the battlefield, but sometimes it’s impossible. It’s like trying to spot a droplet of water in a vast lake. It’s all the same.
Enemies and friends blur into one giant body.
You can’t select a specific droplet; you just drink it all down.
Chug and pray you survive and don’t choke.
You keep drinking even when your thirst has been quenched.
You keep fighting and killing because if you stop, if you resist swallowing, you’re dead.
You feel everything yet nothing at all, because you’re drowning.
I squeeze him tighter. I miss the days when I was taller and he was the size of a child I could pick up and hold in my arms. I miss tackling him as Nero and Ryker helped me.
I miss how Ember would giggle, along with Cyrus as we played childish games that children never should have played.
Games of chase that were secretly teaching us how to hunt a target.
Now, we stand as men, trying to hold each other without showing it weakness.
His hand slips up to my neck, feeling my details as I did his.
“Let’s go get Selene,” I whisper in his ear.
I step back, but he grabs my wrist. “Are you sure you trust her?” He speaks in a fast whisper that sounds like a river overflowing from its banks, pushing and carving out new paths that it shouldn’t venture down. “It’s not too late to run, Titus. Before bonds set in.”
His eyes sweep over me like a baker rubbing flour onto a wooden block so the dough doesn’t stick.
My mouth dries. “I can’t run from this.”
He tugs me closer. “You can! I know what we need, where to look.” His eyes widen with a restless excitement.
“You and I can go. We don’t need Selene.
Fuck! You don’t have to find the Vitalis; you can master Everett’s magic, live with it.
You don’t have to save the world, Titus. ” He shakes my shoulders.
My eyes narrow with caution. “What did you find in the library?”
He leans closer so the tips of our noses almost touch. “Everything.”
His magic radiates, wrapping us in shadows—shades of grey so dark I can only see the whites of his eyes—eyes that are anxious and terrified for me. His shadows swirl, pushing and rubbing over my exposed skin, eliciting a panicked sensation. “I hope love is worth all the sacrifices.”
“I’m doing this because I love you!” I reply. “If I have the chance to make the future safe for you and our family, I’ll give my life to make it happen.”
My body flinches at the rapid peeling back of his magic. He’s pissed, but loyal to me. He walks to the door and opens it. “Queen Selene isn’t in her room. King Galen just left with her.”
My heart falls to the floor. I rush forward and grab him. “How do you know? Where did they go?” Selene should still be sleeping for another hour.
Tristen shrugs as he looks down the hallway that exposes us. “I went to her room first to beg her to force you away from this path. To save you. And as for where Galen took her, I have no idea. He’s her husband. He can take her wherever he wants.”
His eyes hit me like a shovel pressing into soft soil. The impact is felt as he heaves layers of me away, making sure the facts sink in.
Tristen grabs my shoulder. “I will fight by your side, brother, but you and I both know it’s a battle that will kill someone. Are you ready or that?” He steps back. “Think about it. I’m going to get breakfast. Something tells me we’re both going to need extra blood rations today.”
I want to race after him. I need to know what happened in the library, but we can’t speak safely until we’re in a spelled room. Instead, I rush toward Selene’s room.
I open the door to find her bed empty. My nose flares as I catch a fresh scent of Galen’s magic. Flames come forth, trying to replace the impression he made in the air. I find a pathway of roses he left from the door to her bed.
Flick! I shoot out flames one by one, burning the flowers, not caring about my actions.
Tristen is right. I’m losing control of my reactions.
I fall to my knees and close my eyes.
Where did Galen take Selene?
My chest feels raw and tight as I clean up the mess. I grab a bucket of water and toss it over the floor, ensuring the scent of fire can’t be smelt. Then, I open the window and allow fresh air inside. I walk to her bed and find myself slowly lowering my face to her pillow as I inhale her scent.
My skin starts to burn as my magic pulses again.
Tristen is right. I’m playing with fire, but that’s my magic. I can control the flames.
That’s the lie I tell myself.
I am sure a mating mark will appear any day now, and when that happens… gods help us all.
Breakfast meats, fresh bread, soft-churned butter, and of course, pitchers of fresh blood from the donation banks are piled down the center of the dining tables. The aroma in the air makes my fangs tingle. The answers I seek are interwoven into morning gossip.
I spot Tristen as he raises a cup and drinks. His eyes lock on mine as I approach.
“Morning, Thomas,” I say as I join Tristen and some of the other men.
Thomas served under me; he was smitten with Ember but lacked the courage to pursue her. He’s proficient with a bow, preferring it over his sword, which is why he is usually stationed as an archer.
“General.” Thomas and the others dip their chins as I join them. Leaning forward, he confides, “You finally got a day off.” He grabs the closest pitcher of blood and pours me a cup.
“Day off?” I question, raising a brow.
“Don’t tell us you’ve gotten lazy since you follow a fae around all day,” Roy jokes bitterly.
He replaced me as Commander, and I can’t stand him.
He thinks the louder her shouts, the more powerful he looks.
“What’s it like guarding her? Do fae women gossip, drink tea, and eat cake all day long, too?
Must be nice to have a laid-back position now. ”
“She is not a woman; she is your queen.”
“She’s a fae,” he spits under his breath.
I press my tongue against my fangs. “Jealousy makes you see red, Roy, and in battle, you need to see every color. The most dangerous enemy is usually lurking in the spectrum, not just one shade.”
The air shifts as Roy and I lock eyes.
Tristen clears his throat. “Thomas was telling me King Galen and Queen Selene are just returning. A mage portaled them in and out of the kingdom this morning,” he adds as he stabs a pork sausage and slaps it onto his plate.
“Where?”
“Shouldn’t you be there as her guard?” Roy counters.
“I’m sure the king can handle his wife, Roy.”
“I wonder if he handles them both in his bed? Imagine twins! Fuck, that’s hot,” Carter joins the conversation. He chews his eggs so loudly you’d think he was grinding down a leathery steak.
“They're fae,” Roy grunts in revulsion.
Carter shrugs. “I see a woman with legs that can open.”
Thomas rolls his eyes as he adds, “As if either one of you had a chance with Princess Sable.”
“Please,” Carter spits. “Sable fucks like a man. I’ve heard the gossip.”
“She fucks men who can give her something in return,” Roy barks. Sounds like Sable turned him down. “All you can give her is a limp dick and a headache.”
Carter smacks Roy, who gets the last laugh.
Tristen’s knee nudges mine. “Princess Sable is returning home with the ashes of the nobles who tried to kill you.”
My blinks are rapid as I decode his words. Sable being gone is a great thing. One less snake. “Ashes?” I repeat.
“Burned them to a crisp.” Roy laughs as he licks the blood off his lips.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Tristen kicks me from under the table.
“Ashes are easier to transport.” Thomas scrapes butter over his toast; the sound is like a tormentor’s violin, a prelude to pain.
“Galen burned the nobles,” I murmur. The facts are like thunder clouds on a day you wished for sun. It takes my mind time to allow them to penetrate.
Selene will be furious. Devastated.
It’s another punishment.
“They tried to kill you,” Roy adds as he lifts a brow.
“They are fae,” I whisper as I grab my cup. “If we lose our ability to respect the traditions of death, then how do you expect us to value life? He should have returned the bodies, not burned them.”
The table grows silent. Good, let them think.
“King’s orders.” Roy’s lips form a thin line.
I hold his stare. I feel Tristen’s hand slide down his side and rest on his dagger.
I want to rip out my tongue, but instead I say, “The king knows best.”
Roy continues to look at me, then he moves. Thomas jerks, having sensed the tension. Roy lifts his cup in the air and toasts, “To the king!”
“To the king!” the room yells back.
I raise my cup, having no choice. Blood fills my mouth. It takes a moment for me to realize that the taste of it isn’t normal. Instead of energizing and relaxing me, it’s bitter, salty, and metallic.
Spew! I spit it out, covering Roy’s face in the blood.
Tristen lurches as he stands, his dagger half pulled out.
I cough and gag as everyone grows silent. A room full of fellow soldiers watching and waiting for me to tell them why the fuck I just spit out a cheer to the king. I stand and try to catch my breath.
Why did it taste like that?
Glancing to the side, I see the truth in Tristen’s eyes.
Fuck! It’s happening.
Lying quickly to save my throat, I yell, “Poison.”
Soldiers stand, and conversations erupt.
“They tried to kill him again!”
“The fae will never stop!”
“Spit it out! Don’t drink it!”
Great, now they think this was another attempt by the Fae. That’s not what I wanted. The panic spreads like wildfire.
“Poison! They poisoned our blood!”
“I don’t feel good. Help!”
“Mine tasted fine. It’s from the same pitcher,” Roy grunts loudly as he stares into his cup.
Thomas grabs the pitcher and lifts it to his nose. Sniff, sniff! His eyes shift slowly towards mine, resembling a nail that might hit my coffin or miss and land on the side.
“Smells odd to me, too!” he shouts. His eyes soften as he lowers his chin the smallest amount, a silent gesture he’s on my side.
I wonder how many other needles in this haystack share my thoughts and feelings. How many men and women are getting tired of Galen’s disrespect towards the living and the dead?
Clang!
Pitchers are tipped over; soldiers try to gag themselves in fear they have been drinking poison. The lie spreads like salt, drying up the truth and making every thought tainted and vengeful.
News of this will spread to the king, but with so many soldiers claiming the blood tasted off, I should be safe. For now…