Chapter Four
Asher
“ W e do not have to worry about an accident, just so you know.”
I cringed at my word choice, silently chastising myself for making a perfectly joyous brunch awkward. Maybe I could run. How fast could he be with all that muscle weighing him down?
“An accident?” Bellamy inquired after he swallowed his eggs. His furrowed brow and pursed lips made me wish to find an early grave. Anything to get away from the growing embarrassment.
My eyes darted to the blue doors at the end of the enormous wooden table. I could make that, but where would I go from there? I could jump out a window. I bet Bellamy would find a nice place to bury me.
“Why do you look as if you want to fling yourself off a cliff?” he asked, a smirk lighting up his face.
Shoving a pastry into my mouth for moral support, I chewed while I considered that. A cliff would work too. Though jumping out of one of those windows would mean also jumping off a cliff, so really I could do both.
No, the demon would stop me. I covered my eyes with my hands, hoping I could hide from my own embarrassment since a quick death was out of the question.
“Ash?” His voice—soft and sweet—had a smile to it, I could tell just by the sound. Slowly, I lowered my hands from my face. “What do you mean by ‘an accident’?”
I eyed him. Stalling, truthfully. He looked devastatingly handsome today, as per usual.
After our bath, he had gotten us dressed in a matching set of clothes. His blue tunic had silver accents, the long sleeves rolled up his arms to show the tattoos below. On his bottom half he wore black trousers, simple in comparison to the intricate detailing of his top.
He had offered me a stunning dress in the same blue. It was loose and flowy, the silver ropes on my shoulders that acted as straps making me blush in memory of our library excursions. It parted, the material splitting so high up my thighs that it was not far from where the fabric sat low on my back. After he had slipped the dress up my body, Bellamy had gotten on his knees to slowly tie the silver sandals up my legs, the straps ending just above my calves.
Being tended to by him felt even more intimate than kissing him sometimes.
The final touch was a silver sheath, which he strapped to my thigh with tantalizingly soft caresses that turned to swipes of his tongue and lips that left me gripping his hair and screaming his name.
Once I was fully dressed, he had braided my curls and even added kohl to my eyes after I complimented his. He was always quick to take care of me, to show me his love through actions just as often as he did through words.
I would not mind a tiny him one day, perhaps a couple hundred years from now. But how could I explain to Bellamy that I might never be able to give him that, even if we did find our way back to one another?
With an audible gulp, my eyes locked on one of the many demons that stood at attention. He followed my gaze, staring down each guard before waving his hand at them.
“Leave us, please.”
They shuffled out quickly, not hesitating to follow the command of their prince. Bellamy merely watched me, his eyes narrowed as if he were trying to determine what I had been meaning to say without needing to ask me again.
“I cannot conceive,” I blurted out after the guards were all gone.
It hurt to say aloud, to admit such a thing. Fae younglings were a rarity, and they were deeply loved. Bellamy had told Revanche yesterday that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. Would that still be true if he found out that I was likely never going to give him younglings?
After I leave him to take my kingdom, he might not want me anyways. I supposed it did not matter if this bothered him when I would do far worse.
“Xavier and Mia had been angry following Sipho’s death. At me, at him, at themselves. They called me reckless and said they could not risk me conceiving a youngling due to my stupidity. After a night in my low level room—”
Bellamy cut me off with a growl, his anger thick and heavy in the room. Tension crawled up my spine, leaving me unsure of how to proceed. I swiped a mint leaf off the small silver dish just past my plate, popping it into my mouth and anxiously chewing it. Neither of us enjoyed talking about the royals, though we somehow always managed to bring them into conversations.
“I awoke to find Mia there. She was stroking my hair and humming to me. It was the first kind thing she had done for me since Sipho’s death, and it made me feel as if things might get better with time. Xavier had said it was my fault, and I believed him. My anger felt misplaced—wrong, even. Though I did not forgive them, I also was unwilling to show that when it seemed wrong to feel such a thing.”
I sighed, readying to tell him something that would change the way he viewed me. The way he pictured his future.
“It was then she explained that she had found a way for Tish to make me infertile, just until I was wed and needed to produce an heir. None of them clarified how it worked, and I never asked, which means I cannot bear children. So no accidents will occur. It is impossible,” I finished, exhaling a deep and painful breath.
Younglings were not something I wanted right now, or anytime soon, but I had always pictured being a mother one day. I was unsure what Bellamy wanted for his future other than he wanted to be more than a husband or a father or a soldier. That he wanted to be someone rather than just anyone. And I understood that, down to my core. Did that mean though that he did not ever want those things? Or did he simply mean he wanted to accomplish more in his life than only those things?
“Ash, I am sorry that happened to you. That you were violated in such a way.”
Broken, his voice sounded so broken, but I shook my head, trying to stop the tears and explain why this was probably for the best.
“Honestly, it is okay. I do not want younglings in the near future, and I am not sure if someone like me should conceive anyways. Wanting to be a mother and deserving to be one are two vastly different things.”
Bellamy shot out of his chair, causing it to scratch across the wood floors and topple backwards. He did not seem to care as he made his way to me, rage causing his pupils to grow and overtake the stunning blue that I so loved.
My eyes went wide, mind reeling and unsure what to do as he stormed over to me. Was he that mad at me?
Bellamy pulled my chair out from under the table, twisting me around and then placing his hands on either arm rest. He leaned in, the smell of him intoxicating enough to mask the fear I felt for a moment.
“Do not ever act as if you are undeserving of what you want in life. Do not ever say that the things they did to you, what they stole from you, was okay. That the loss and pain and tragedies you suffered are not a big deal. That it is all fine. None of that is fine.”
No, it was not. I did agree. But what I would not say to him, or anyone, was that I still remembered the happy times. The moments when Mia would braid my hair as I played the pianoforte or when she would wake me up in the night to go lay in the gardens and look at the stars. Or the ones when Xavier would sneak me cookies beneath the dinner table and play pranks on the guards with me. That I missed those small pockets of joy more than anything. Some days, the pain had felt worth it, because their love had felt endless.
Hating them would make everything easier, but life was not easy.
“Are you mad at me?” I asked, my voice small and quiet—nervous for his answer.
Bellamy flashed me a stunned face, as if he could not believe I would ask such a thing. That was because he had a father who loved him, who stood up for him and cared for him. He did not understand the pain that came with my situation.
To be isolated and alone save for the couple who raised you. To suffer at their hands and be supposedly loved by them within the same breath. To then learn that every bit of that was fake, that you were a pawn and a fool and everything that you fought so hard not to be. I knew now that every move they had made was calculated and false, which perhaps made it all worse, because now I feared that no love came without pain.
Ignoring the good to assume someone is evil does no one justice. It only makes the reality more painful when it hits you in the face and reminds you of the truth. No one was truly good or evil.
“No, Princess, I am not mad. I would never be angry with you for struggling after the trauma you endured. I love you—so much more than you understand,” he said, placing a finger below my chin to tilt my head up.
Our eyes met, the sheer power of his love bringing me to tears. I found myself once again wondering how anyone survived such a feeling.
“I mean, are you mad because of my inadequacies? I am not some delicate princess who is simply feeling down. I am broken and torn and a mess of a being. I know nothing of the world—I am both dangerous and terrified, and there is no part of me that is worthy of you. I cannot give you an heir or a life of joy. I am not… whole .”
Hearing the words slip from my lips made me realize just how pathetic they sounded. How did such a perfect evening lead to a morning like this? I felt exposed and raw, as if I were stripped bare and then skinned until my very soul was displayed.
Bellamy stood there for a moment, watching the tears fall from my eyes as I silently cried. I wished I was not letting my emotions get the best of me. I used to be so much better at hiding it all.
“I know that no amount of times I say this will convince you of something you do not believe, but you are not inadequate. You are more than I ever dreamed I would have.” When I did not immediately respond, he sighed.
“Can we talk about something less horrid? There are too many feelings, too much weighing down on me. I just want to be happy and enjoy your company.” I meant every word, but we both knew I was also avoiding something that I would one day have to face.
“Okay, Princess. Okay.” He placed a kiss on my forehead, lingering for a minute. He pulled away suddenly as his eyes lit up and a smile spread across his face. “Come. Let me show you something.”
With that, he stood up straight, reaching a hand out to me. I took it without thinking, my cheeks still wet from the grief of what could have been in another life. What should have been.
“Are you going to pretend to show me the library again so you can fuck me?” I asked, a small chuckle leaving my lips despite my morose mood.
Bellamy laughed too, shaking his head as he lifted me up. He wiped away a stray tear with his thumb, a ring grazing my skin and sending shivers down my back.
“I would like to think that I am taking you somewhere even better, but that might be because I plan to be inside of you in every room of this castle,” he whispered into my ear.
I gasped, and then the familiar pull of portaling tore at my body. It was unnatural, portaling. Like fighting the universe.
“How lazy are you demons? We could have walked,” I said, both of us laughing and smiling at the other as our feet found solid ground.
“Take a look around and tell me if you still wish we would have made the long walk here.”
My body was turned, and then I was facing a room similar to the others—white walls and driftwood floors, blue rugs and white furniture with gorgeous silver designs. The windows were enormous with curtains matching the sky beyond. Three massive blue sofas sat in a U-shape with small white tables placed where they met, arranged facing a white brick fireplace off to the left.
None of that was why Bellamy brought me there though. No, the reason we stood in that doorway was sitting off to the right, light from the open window shining on it and making it look as if it were aglow.
A large, silver pianoforte was there, the matching bench with a light blue cushion practically begging for me to take a seat.
I had not played since that moment in Haven when I felt as if my life was ending. When I was alone and scared and unaware of the dangers that awaited me back home in the Fae Realm—in Betovere. Bellamy had walked in then, and I had simply left. Our relationship was different now, but I still felt just as broken.
Bellamy led me to the bench, taking my hand as I sat down before moving to the side and leaning forward with his elbows atop the shiny surface. My breath hitched at the beauty of it. Chandeliers hung above us, identical to the others I had seen within this palace and Bellamy’s Haven residence. They bathed the room in demon light, the Sun magic doing what it did best—highlighting beautiful things.
They lit Bellamy’s face up and cast him in a magnificent glow of colors, the rainbow on his cheeks sending my heart into a sprint. The piano was also alight, silver mixed with the colors making it look like a rare gemstone.
I could weep at the sight of it.
There was something freeing about this moment. Perhaps it was the difference in my mental state or even the way the wind felt like it was calling to me as it blew through an open window. Maybe it was the high of being able to make my own choices. Every moment from now would be my own to dictate and mold. Mine.
With my back straight and the memory of Henry telling me that I sat like I had a stick up my ass bringing a smile to my face, I began to play.
Unlike the last time I was able to pour my heart into the keys, this time my fingers found a more triumphant rhythm. There was excitement and beauty to the melody, a distinct sense of rightness as it built.
My hands flew, my heart racing right along with them. I was not able to focus on Bellamy, to look his way or attempt to hear his thoughts. All I could do was think of the journey that had led me here. The painful and devastating parts seemed smaller in the wake of the laughter and warmth and love I had found. Though they still hurt, there was no denying that I had at long last discovered my place in this world.
With that realization, I slowed to a soft close. I left my hands there, hovering over the keys as I breathed in deeply. Everything would move quickly from here. King Adbeel would come, and I would meet with him and then deny them my aid. When the arguing that was sure to ensue ended, I would have Bellamy take me home, and I would win my crown. All that would happen was enough to convince me that I deserved these small moments of peace.
“Beautiful,” Bellamy whispered from his place to the right, his eyes alight with more emotion than I was capable of understanding. He smiled, walking over to me and beginning to rub small circles on my back. I sighed, leaning into his touch, and was glad for his anchoring presence.
“Such a compliment coming from an artist. Truly, I am blushing, Your Highness.”
He snorted at my sarcasm, flicking my nose. “It would have been rude of me to say you were off-key at the start.” I gasped, fighting back the laugh that I knew he was hoping for with his remark. Especially since I had definitely not been off-key. I was never off. Not when I was in my right mind, at least. “Not all of us can be perfect, but I love you all the same.”
Looking up at him made my heart stutter—his chiseled jaw and high cheekbones mixed with the glow of his blue eyes and the part of his full lips. It was like seeing a god in the flesh. He was far too flawless for his own good.
Clearly that big ego had grown from years of well-deserved praise.
I wondered if anyone outside of his Trusted knew that he was even more stunning on the inside. His love for, and dedication to, the family he had made; the way he fought for not only his realm, but all of them; even his patience and heart were something beyond that of many in The Capital. This male was so worthy of the joy that lit his eyes now.
“Well, the painting of me was shaky and unimpressive, so I guess neither of us are perfect.” The painting of me was actually stunning, annoyingly so. Stupid, cocky, talented demon.
Bellamy offered me his hand with a deep chuckle, smiling as if the world had been laid at his feet when I took it. Together we walked through the palace, which mirrored the world outside with its blue skies and white clouds. Though there was no snow on the ground, the air was still quite chilly, and I found that the farther down we went, the colder I got.
By the time we arrived at the arched doors that would lead us out, I was shivering. Bellamy said nothing, opting to simply call upon my silver cloak—the darkness wrapping around me like a blanket before disappearing to reveal the silver fabric. He reached behind me and pulled the hood up, placing a soft peck to my lips before calling to his own cloak as well.
“Where are we going?” I asked. My curiosity moved to the forefront of my mind now that I was not as uncomfortably cold, my free hand clasping the button at my neck.
A blue-clad guard opened the doors for us, a soft breeze hitting my face that smelled of pine and jasmine. Bellamy dipped his head in thanks, and oddly enough, I found myself doing the same. Strange how easily one could change.
“Since we have decided to have a joyous day, I want you to meet one of the happiest little creatures I have ever encountered.” He said it with a sense of eagerness that made me nervous. Anyone who had Bellamy this excited was someone to be slightly terrified of.
We walked in silence through the courtyard and down the large hill. It was steeper on foot, and I found that my legs were still sore from riding for weeks on end.
Quiet moments like these were dangerous, because they allowed the mind to wander. It was all too easy to think of King Adbeel, to wonder when Bellamy would send word to him that he should return to The Royal City. Despite my desire to live in this small piece of happiness, I knew that time was not on our side. Xavier and Mia would not wait forever, especially now that we—I—had slaughtered their demon search party. Meeting the king and returning to Betovere was far too important to let it go undiscussed.
“When will your father return?” I asked Bellamy, attempting nonchalance and failing miserably.
He quirked a brow as he peered down at me, clearly debating what he wanted to say and choosing his words carefully. More pretty lies, but I knew I would have my answers soon enough. I was always good at being patient, at waiting for the right time. Growing up a princess taught me that patience was a virtue one could not live without.
“Tomorrow. I will send for him tomorrow. Give me one more day with you where we can enjoy this—us.” He grabbed onto my hand, pulling it up to his chest.
I knew that whatever it was he needed to say in front of his king was monumental. More than likely, my power—magic—whatever it was—sat in the center of it all.
One day. I could wait that long.
Nodding, I continued on, allowing him to keep ahold of my hand as we walked. We remained that way until we reached the white and brown cottages along the cobblestone path. It was even more stunning at midday, the sun beating down on the little imperfections that made these places homes.
The area was far less congested now, likely because many had gone off to work and learn. To exist. Empty, but still full. That was how this place felt. As if it were made with enough love to last through those quieter moments.
My mind wandered, thinking of all the beauty I had seen since we arrived last night. The buildings, the landscape, even the demons were all uniquely magnificent.
I thought back to the many I had seen along the way to the library last night, Revanche standing out amongst them. She was stunning, but her personality could use some work.
“You and Revanche were engaged?” I asked, trying to sound casual despite my interest. I had no right to be angry since I was engaged when we first met. In fact, my engagement technically never ended.
Would one consider that to be infidelity?
Before I could further panic over my tragic love life, Bellamy responded, “That is debatable. Revanche is barely ninety years, but her entire life has been dedicated to becoming queen. I am half convinced that Judson conceived her simply to marry me.” His voice was not shaky, and his face showed no sign of nerves, but I could feel his unease at the topic.
“And the agreement between your fathers?”
He looked at me then, his face far more serious than I imagined the conversation warranted. The furrow of his brow and purse of his lips filled the air around us with an odd sense of anger as well, as if this topic was one best left alone. Yet he continued.
“King Adbeel felt marrying Revanche would help with my reputation of violence and promiscuity. Not to mention that it would not hurt to have heirs being born with the Ayad name and the Garnier bloodline. I will not lie, we had many…encounters, but the king was aware I never intended to marry her.”
King, not father. How often had I heard Bellamy call King Adbeel his father? Once? Never? I was unsure. I had no personal experience in familial interactions, but Nicola, Farai, and Jasper never called their fathers by their first names. Was Bellamy’s relationship with his own so strained that he could not even bring himself to acknowledge his parentage out loud?
Despite my everlasting curiosity, I dropped the topic, allowing the silence to once more consume us as we wove through the homes.
Bellamy brought us to a stop at one of the brown cottages, the vines wrapping the structure like a warm embrace. The door was a creamy white—a small pair of sandals left at the base of it, as if a youngling had carelessly kicked them off on their way inside.
I smiled at that, the idea of such peace existing. This world took so often and with little regard for those it stole from. Younglings deserved joy, as we all did, and it was nice to know that someone had that somewhere.
When the door swung open, I was met with a pair of wide brown eyes. The female stood before us, her long brown skirt and loose white top billowing in the wind that pushed through the open doorway. Her hair was also brown, cropped short to her head. She had high cheekbones and thin lips, her eyes taking up so much of her face that she looked eternally youthful—like a child or a youngling.
“Bronagh, I am so glad we caught you before you left,” Bellamy said.
He leaned down to pull the small female into him. The embrace was tender, almost familial. Her lips spread into one of the widest smiles I had ever seen, bordering on unsettling in its appearance. A chill snaked up my back causing the hairs on my arms to rise. Something was not right, clearly, but Bellamy seemed more than comfortable in her presence. So when her melodic voice, soft and enchanting, welcomed us both inside, I followed him through the doorway.
Bronagh’s home was warm and inviting, the mismatched furniture and woodsy smell creating a comforting atmosphere. The soft, yellow glow of the candles was unexpected, as I had yet to see any area lit by anything other than demon light. Yet she had them everywhere, wax coating the counters and tables and even the floor in some places.
One thing was noticeably absent: toys. There was no sign of a youngling’s presence other than the shoes on the doorstep.
“What brings you here today, Bell?” she asked, her tone affectionate in the way a mother’s was to their child. I looked between the two, suddenly realizing that I was not aware of how they knew one another.
In that moment, it was hard not to wonder who Bellamy’s mother was. I had never asked before. Not because I was not curious, but because I had not thought it was my place seeing as he had not brought it up in conversation—had not even hinted at a mother at all. But now, with so much between us and an uncertain future, was Bellamy introducing me to her?
With impressive speed, my palms began to sweat.
“There is news on Betovere that I figured you would be interested in hearing,” he said, lifting his shoulders as if the topic were no more than small talk.
Neither Bronagh nor I were fooled.
“Well, how considerate of you. And I am sure this beautiful female beside you has absolutely nothing to do with your visit today?” she said, eyebrows raised and arms crossed.
I could not stop the laugh that slipped from my lips at her sarcasm. Bronagh practically lit up at my amusement, flashing that same too-large grin and winking at me. Bellamy smiled too, his own chuckles echoing through the home.
“You got me. I was being honest about Betovere though, things are not well. I believe you will be called back to base sooner rather than later,” he said.
No one could deny the way that the air seemed to charge, a furious and sorrowful mood settling in between us all. They scared me, the emotions pouring off of the female. Every instinct told me to run, to cower—to get as far from her as I possibly could. Without thought, I stepped closer to Bellamy, our hands touching ever so gently.
“This is Asher. She is my—”
And then Bellamy hit the floor. His hand gripping his chest, and his scream piercing in its volume.
Bronagh and I both dropped to our knees, clutching at him and begging him to speak. To say anything. To tell us how to help.
Ten agonizing seconds passed before Bellamy’s wide eyes met mine. I knew then what had happened. Pino had told us, and we were foolish to think we could be prepared. More than that, it would explain the horror on his face and the pain in his eyes.
Bellamy could feel his wards shattering.
“They are attacking.”