Chapter Five
T he two syllables sit like a boulder in my stomach.
The stomach that now grumbles in pain and hunger from not having anything to digest for two fucking weeks. For the first time in my life, I have no words. I’m rendered completely and totally… speechless.
Also, why did the elf woman shake her head to deny me from telling Forsythia about the pregnancy? Clearly, she has to know. Right?
Forsythia moans and draws my attention. “Two fucking weeks? Seriously? I really want to be angry about that right now, but you said food, and it’s like I lost the ability to think about anything else.”
Her stomach growls loudly, and mine answers.
I try to suppress the chuckle, given our absurd circumstances, but when I look at my mate, I find it nearly impossible to be upset about anything.
“I would love a sandwich right about now, and I promise not to break your nose this time, Blake.” Sythia winks at me, and the laughter finally bubbles out.
The elf woman breaks through my laughter. “I’m afraid I have no clue what a sandwich is, but I do have some food for you.”
She brings over a large wooden platter with odd-looking fruits and tiny breads. There is also some kind of spread. Forsythia’s eyes light up, and she digs in, popping a bright orange fruit into her mouth and moaning.
Am I a coward for letting my mate try the weird fruit first?
Listen, she’s a little hardier than me, and my pallet is sensitive. Plus, there really would be no point in poisoning us when they have had two weeks now to kill us.
I snag a piece of the bright orange rubbery food that Sythia was moaning over and pop it into my mouth. When I bite down, I find the consistency similar to an apricot, but the flavor is more like a super sweet kiwi.
Not bad.
I reach for another piece, and Sythia slaps my hand away.
“Nope, I love those. I have claimed them all.” She sticks another piece in her mouth and gives me a bratty grin.
Unable to fight the urge, I smile at her. The women in my village always had very enthusiastic and particular appetites while pregnant.
Resigned to eating something else, I chose a deep purple wedge with a yellow middle. Unfortunately, the flavor does not reflect its pretty colored exterior. Somehow this thing manages to be both sour like a lemon and rooty like a beet. It’s… well, it’s fucking gross.
I can’t bear chewing anymore, so I swallow the thing down and take a huge gulp of water.
We continue to sit in silence while the elf woman chews her fingernails, and Forsythia and I eat. My mate is much more enthusiastic about her choices. even the nasty purple wedge. I manage to find some grape-like things and enjoy the pita-like bread pieces with the odd spread.
Once my stomach is at least partially satisfied, I leave Forsythia to finish off the remaining food while I try to get some answers. Directing my attention to Midori, I start working my way through the million questions firing around in my brain.
“Why did your nobles take us?”
She ducks her head a little, almost afraid that her answer will anger me.
“I will tell you everything, but I need something from you in return.” She seems sincere, but as our captor or guard or whatever, I’m not particularly feeling inclined to give her a damn thing.
I open my mouth to say just that when she barrels through with her demand.
“Take me with you.” Her words are rushed and panicked and… completely deflate my irritation. She is scared.
“What? Why would we do that? You aren’t a prisoner here.” I say, thinking of her abilities to do magick and come and go as she pleases.
“A gilded cage is still a prison.” She whispers. “As long as she remains,” she gestures to Forsythia, “I am bound to care for her and protect her. I am magickally bound to care for her during the entire–”
She stops abruptly and looks at me.
“During the entire what?” Forsythia asks around, munching on a new piece of food.
Midori gives me a pleading look that asks me not to say the words. My irritation begins to rise. Who is she to think I will keep something from my mate? Besides, I’m sure Forsythia already knows. Can’t women like, sense that kind of thing?
I look at Forsythia, but before I get a chance to open my mouth and share my joy, Midori cuts me off.
“Their goal wasn’t to capture you. It was to bring back the Royal Consort. But when they found you all together, they decided you would both be prizes they could sell after the ceremony. As well as a bargaining chip for the Consorts’ compliance.”
Forsythia inhales sharply. “They have Lucian? Oh, Gods! Where is he? Is he alright?” She stands quickly and moves to the elf woman, bringing her to her feet and giving her a slight shake, as her words become rushed and panicked. “You have to take me to him. You have to take me now !”
I don’t know the whole of Lucian’s past, but I know enough to understand her worry. The elf looks terrified but nods.
“I should probably be able to sneak you both in under the guise of keeping the Consort amiable during the ceremony.” She nods at her own words and taps her chin as she thinks.
“When is the ceremony?” I ask. Dreading the answer. A pit opens up in my stomach at the words I fear will come next.
Midori glances at the window and seems to gauge one of the sun’s positions. “In about an hour.”
Oh fuck.
Forsythia’s rage flares out from her. As do her wings, tail, and the two glorious little horns on her head.
“I think not.” Forsythia’s voice takes on an ethereal tone when she is amped up with magickal energy. When she has gone full Noctifer Witch.
“Oh fuck.” This time, I outright speak the words that rush in my head.
I hope the fae realm knew what it was doing when it brought Forsythia here because she will burn it down to get her mate.
And I will gladly stand by her side while we free my brother.
Chapter Six
Lucian
I carefully work the golden buttons on my perfectly tailored shirt.
Under other circumstances, I might find the clothing attractive. I immediately shake my head at that absurd thought.
No– probably not.
The crisp white of everything makes me nervous. I am of the trees and nature. I am also of fire and ash. None of those elements are meant for so much… white .
Taking a steadying breath, I move to grab the tunic vest. Then the ribbons. Taking the time to make sure everything is carefully placed and added.
I am supremely grateful that Laeryne did not insist on attending me. The past few nights have been absolute–
Bile rises in my throat, and I will my stomach to ease.
Breathing slowly and focusing my mind on Forsythia, I manage to calm my nerves. I can see her in my mind. The memory of her beautiful sleeping form. They let me see her a few days ago. She was so peaceful and so beautiful.
My heart crumbles a little more as I think about what is about to happen and what I can do to stop it. So far, I have come up completely empty-handed.
When Laeryne came to my room and began speaking about the grooming she needed to do in order for me to be ‘ready’ for the Princess, I had a moment of weakness and attempted to leap from my bedroom window.
I quickly discovered that they had a Dryma bubble-like barrier surrounding the entire castle that makes it so that when you exit through a window, you are spun around and spat back in the way you left. My body whipped around, and the air was tight around me as it tossed me onto the floor of my room.
Her cackling laughter was almost as bad as her dry, calloused hands groping at my body shortly after.
No.
I will not vomit again.
I will do this, and everything else I need to, to keep my mate safe.
Even if the magickal binding that takes place during the ceremony will destroy our precious soulbond. Closing my eyes, I focus again on my breathing. A single tear sneaks out and burns as it travels down my cheek.
I will do this for her. I will subject myself to this internal torment and external abuse… for her . To keep her from harm. To keep her safe.
The thought brings on a new vision. Laeryne holding the knife above Forsythia’s abdomen. She smiled wickedly when she saw how easily her threat was working. She was in her best of moods that evening, and I had no choice but to be her obedient little slave .
At least that is one bit of good news to come from all of this.
Once the ceremony is complete, Laeryne will no longer be able to touch me. In fact, touching the Royal Consort is grounds for having a hand or two removed.
My imagination runs wild at the thought of Laeryne having one of her hands removed for trying to touch me. Or attempting to order me to touch her. Maybe if I caught her alone, I could just remove one of her hands and claim that she had touched me. I mean, what would they do? Punish me?
I laugh at that thought.
Nothing could possibly be more punishment than this.
When I breathe again, I am sobered by the remembrance that there is something more I can be punished with.
I will not be the cause of any more pain to Animus Meus .
Once I finish tying the last of the ribbons on my waist, I use a small bit of rope to tie my hair back. I no sooner finish when the door to my room opens, and Laeryne walks in.
For a woman who is nearly one-thousand years my senior, she could easily pass for a fit fifty-year old human woman. You know, if not for the heavily pointed ears and the slight purple sheen to her flesh. Elves are known for their exterior beauty, and Laeryne is no exception to this fact.
If she had even a sliver of that beauty on the inside, she would be a formidable force.
Instead, her beauty leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Even before you know how truly demented and blackened her soul is.
“Now, now. A Royal Consort has no need to grimace. Your face looks much more handsome when you relax your features. That is all anyone cares about anyway. You need to look like the perfect accessory for my darling niece.” Her sing-song voice grates my nerves, but when she touches a finger to my chin, I forget myself and jump a little.
She tuts at me and grips my chin firmly. “What have I said about pulling away?” Her words are calm, but her lip turns up into a slight snarl.
Keeping my breathing even, I manage to stay perfectly still in her icy grip as I recite the words she shoved down my throat during so many years of conditioning.
“ A touch is a gift, and a gift such as this should never be rejected . I apologize, my lady. Please feel free to–“ My mouth dries up, and I struggle to continue.
“Feel free to what, Pet?“ She moves closer, and I pray to the Gods she doesn’t rub her body against mine.
Again.
I take a steadying breath and force the words out between clenched teeth. “Feel free to touch me as much as you like, my lady.”
She smiles, and the sight turns my skin to ice. Releasing my chin, she moves her hand down my body.
As her hand continues traveling, I let my mind drift away to happier thoughts. Such as my mate’s smile while she chops off Laeyrne’s head.