Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
HIS TENDER CARE
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
—Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Scene 2
“ A erinne.”
I want to ignore édouard more than anything in the world.
Unfortunately, pettiness is like expensive chocolate; to be savored sparingly.
He jerks his head toward the door and I pace on his heels, following him out of the dining room and down the hall where he herds me into my office, shutting the door behind us.
It isn’t a big space, because ample room encourages visitors and I’d rather they visit édouard in his fancy office.
I maintain a desk shoved against a wall, a single uncomfortable, grudging guest chair and a futon covered in yellow tape. Not much in the way of books—my shelves are crammed with items I’ve collected over the years .
One wall is devoted to my dart board with the Prince’s defaced visage.
Occasionally I buy a fresh picture, or someone who wants a small favor brings me one.
My one window faces the training yard, to torture myself over wishing I can be out there when I am in here, and for deniability when people come to the house to visit.
If I don’t see them, I can pretend they aren’t there.
I wander to my desk and perch on the edge, crossing my arms over my chest and leveling him with an edged stare as I jiggle my foot, then force it to still. “You wanted to talk to me. So talk.”
Agate eyes regard me without familial affection but I only need his cooperation, and barring that, a lack of overt disrespect.
I tolerate a lot from him because he’s competent at his job—which I don’t want—but agitation churns under his skin.
Bet he doesn’t like what happened in the field today.
Being wrong, me witnessing his gross wrongness, the shock of the Prince’s appearance.
“What happened out there?” he asks.
“Not to be facetious, but you’re going to have to be more specific. Did you notice? A lot happened.”
I don’t want to stumble over explanations to édouard, who will leap on any sign of uncertainty and use it to tear my judgement to shreds. His way of coping with his guilt.
He whirls and slams his fist against the wall.
I purse my lips. “What’s wrong with you? Well. . .more wrong, I mean.”
édouard turns and approaches to get in my face with a glare. “You know what the fuck I’m talking about, Aerinne. Don’t play your dances-with-words games with me. Stop trying to figure out what I want to hear and tell me the truth.”
I don’t move, tempted to ball my fist and add some color to his jaw. “I’m shit at games.” But I close my eyes, rubbing my temples. “I’m confused about what happened.”
Fortunately, that’s enough of the truth I can get away with it. But also enough of a lie that the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“I took some advice from an old friend.”
“Don’t play me for an imbecile, cousin.” He grips the desk on either side of me. Standing too damn close for a male I don’t like. “I have two hundred years of life experience on you?—”
Which makes him stuck for now at about twenty-five in human years. I roll my eyes. At my twenty-seven, we’re contemporaries.
“—and it’s painfully obvious when you’re trying to get over.”
True. I’m a terrible liar. Juliette’s sister used to say it’s because I’m too literal. Danon said it’s because I’m too impatient.
They are both wrong. Maman told me once that it’s beneath us to lie; it’s the sign of lesser power.
“I know what you did. How the fuck did you do it, who taught you, and don’t give me glib foolery about an old friend—are you paying attention?” His teeth are gritted now. Clearly he wants to strangle me, but that’s just not my kink.
“Didn’t you just say not to fool around?” I jiggle my foot in a staccato rhythm.
The hairs on my neck still stand at attention. I have the same questions and no clue of the answers. Not when the possibilities throw everything I’d thought I understood about myself and Darkan into question.
The therapist labeled him as a splinter of my personality for years. A Fae therapist, not a clueless human.
édouard watches my face. “I know your friends, the names and histories of every person in your circles since High Lord Maryonne birthed you.”
I stop jiggling my foot and stand, forcing him to back up a step—which he doesn’t. “You sound like a stalker, Arddie. Or somebody who desperately needs a new hobby.”
He lowers his chin, scowling. “You’re my hobby.”
“That’s news to Tereille.”
“No.” édouard bares his teeth. “It’s not.”
I ball up my fists and slam them against his shoulders, pushing him away from me as I half-control a snarl. “Tell me what this is really about.”
He’s pissed about more than the fact that I pulled off a small miracle, demonstrating knowledge of a magical technique that should be beyond me in terms of strength and training—and is beyond him.
“You bridged us. There was never any indication you could function as an apex, much less a bridge. I don’t think even my Lords Maryonne and Danon suspected.”
Because he uses terminology I haven’t fully parsed, I sigh to myself and delve into the files of information Darkan flung at me before fleeing.
After a long moment sorting, I say, “Can you explain what that is using concise terms?” Small words, Arddie. Use small words.
édouard stares at me, but maybe for once he realizes I’m not trying to be difficult.
He takes a half step back—the only sign of unease and I don’t think he realizes it.
“An apex has learned to merge their power with another’s.
It’s a prerequisite required to advance to another set of difficult to master skills. . .with a little s. Not the big S.”
Realms. He’s serious. Maybe I need to do some image control. “I understood the inference.”
“It almost is a Skill, though. Not everyone can learn. But if you can learn, then you can be taught.”
And the difference between affinity and a Skill is that an affinity can be trained and reproduced. It’s not wild magic.
“It sounds like a gray area. So they merge their power with another’s. I can see how that might be useful, but it’s not inherently dangerous. Does it require consent?” That ups the danger scale, if consent isn’t required.
He frowns. “I’ll rephrase. They’re vampires. They can suck another’s power from them and manipulate it, the way some of the older bloodlines physically take blood.”
Well, shit. Consent not required then. “Indefinitely?”
“No. As with everything, the ability depends on the will and strength of the apex. All uses of our power depends on will and strength, whether it’s affinity or a Skill. . .or this gray area.”
If there’s a gray area, they were both once the same thing.
We must have evolved over time. Or rather, the magic did.
I’d not be surprised if the split was a result of selective breeding, which would explain the genetic mutations we think are causing the Skills.
Some ambitious family or society attempting to conceive children with specific strains of power.
It would be just like the High Fae to do that .
I start to rub my head, and don’t. “Fine. Tell me about a bridge.”
édouard is silent, the calculating look in his eyes making plain that he weighs his words.
“Don’t hold out on me,” I warn. He will if he thinks I might be a danger.
“A bridge,” he says finally, “is why the prerequisite is to be an apex. A bridge combines the power of several individuals like links in a chain. The purpose being to?—”
“I get it. I did it.” Adding each person to the “chain” had strengthened our combined shield. “But an apex isn’t always a bridge.”
“No. The combination is uncommon, but not rare.” He narrows his eyes.
“Still, it’s not a combination often taught.
If you use the ability in front of an experienced mage, we’re screwed.
They’ll know what you are. Hoard this ability the way you hoard all the secrets you should be fucking telling me. ”
And there goes his temper again.
But the note in his voice alerts me. “Why?”
He rotates his neck. “I was born on this side of the gate, but there are always stories. Keep it to yourself, Aerinne. The House isn’t in a position to protect you from—” he stops talking.
“From what?”
“Hunters.”
A chill digs into my spine. “What do you mean?”
Now his long look is that of a male deciding whether giving a child information will help protect them, or just blow shit up faster—and take bystanders with them. “It’s a Dark Fae trait, Aerinne. Some will want you dead for that—but the ones who don’t? They’re the ones who are the real threat.”
“I only have one Fae parent.”
He says nothing.
Right. I exhale. I can’t parse all of this right now. “Fine. Fine. I don’t talk about myself anyway.”
“No, that’s one of your redeeming traits. You can keep your mouth shut on secrets even when you shouldn’t ?— “
“By the Realms, get over it.”
“—and you’re almost nauseatingly self-effacing.”
I ignore the irrelevant adjective. There’s at least one adult in the room. “I can’t hold the bridge for long though. A uniquely unpleasant experience.”
édouard laughs humorlessly. “It was unpleasant for the rest of us. They won’t say anything. They’re loyal.”
I nod, pursing my lips because I hate owing anyone a favor. “I had no idea I had this potential, Commander. I wouldn’t have kept something like this from you.”
Despite the advantage I gain from keeping an adversary ignorant of my abilities—modest as I thought they were, though now I have questions.
“The strength and control that ability demonstrates should be beyond you.” His eyes flare with anger again, hard and black as coal. “Unless, as I say, you’ve been holding out on me. Who’s been training you, Aerinne? What favors did you exchange?”
Ah. Not just pissed because I’d surprised him. He thinks I might have compromised the House by seeking tutelage from someone dangerous—which in his worldview would be anyone who isn’t him.
“I can’t say, but I assure you I’m not compromised. ”
I may be getting closer to the time where I’ll have to reveal my. . .different personality. But not yet. Not before I figure out how I can teach myself?—
Maybe Darkan is an aspect of my avatar that somehow verbalized, and possesses knowledge passed down through genetics. I am half Fae, it is possible.
“Somehow, you’re lying to me,” he says. His shoulders relax, the anger draining from his face. “Halfling.”
He grabs me and backs me against the nearest wall. I curse, tasting blood in my mouth.
“Fuck! What the fuck are you doing, édouard?”
There’s a blade at my throat. “You will tell me everything,” he says, menace in his gravelly voice. “And if you don’t. . .”
I narrow my gaze, poised to move the second he shifts that blade.
Or maybe I’ll take a cut to make a point—he’s not going to try to actually kill me.
If I thought that, I wouldn’t be standing here pretending I’m a possum.
He’d be dead. Arddie knows how fast I can move when I want to; or at least he thinks he does.
But I’ll remember this.
“Or what?” I go for the jugular, since we’re playing with knives. “You’ll hurt me? I suppose since my mother died on your watch, you can’t sink any lower.”
He recoils as I thought he would, but with a brief grapple pins me to the wall again. I can’t use the advantage of surprise or underestimation with him.
I don’t think he truly intends to cut me—like all males, he’s theatrical—but the thinnest line splits open my skin.
The air goes arctic.
Aerinne .
Death enters the room, and not mine.
Not now. I curse internally. The last thing I need is to be distracted by Darkan. As soon as I hear his voice I forget. . .what? I haven’t forgotten anything.
édouard approaches the limit of my tolerance.
So much threat in so quiet, so stark, a statement.
It’s a family dispute and he isn’t trying to hurt me. I don’t need you right now.
No, my instincts have never failed me, but they also rarely fail to confuse. They’re directing me to diffuse, to get. . .Darkan. . .out of this room. He isn’t here. He’s not even a real entity.
Every internal warning bell is screaming something different.
You need me. Though there may come a time when that isn’t true. He’s silent a beat. Very well. But Aerinne, if he bleeds you, I will return his tender care in kind. So prove to me my intervention is not required. You are weak when it comes to your family.
The door opens, distracting me from the oddity of this conversation. édouard and I stiffen as if caught making out on the desk. Well, no, no one would blink at that. If we were caught making out on the desk with Baroun, however.
Though, honestly, they wouldn’t blink at that either.
Half my family would assume it was a kink and congratulate me for my very Fae streak of perversion, the other half would assume it was a tactic to get close enough to slit his throat. Not sure what Baroun’s motivation would be in this scenario.
Tereille shuts the door behind him with a quiet click and takes us in.
Then he levels his mate with a thin-lipped stare. “I’m disappointed in you, édouard. This isn’t how we behave toward each other.” His lowers his voice. “Do I need to put you in time out?”
édouard and I wince. The Commander backs away from me, sheathing his blade. He tries to play off the trouble he’s in with an impassive expression, folding his arms over his chest. But his mate is six feet plus of Fae warrior and disappointed.
I almost laugh.
Arddie boy is going to be punished tonight.
Saved by the puppy, Darkan says, voice slithering through my mind before his presence fades again. This time. He hadn’t meant me—Tereille’s intervention hadn’t saved my life.
I straighten as the mates face each other.
“Before you fuck off out of my office, remember that six of our people died.” My voice cracks.
“Bad timing for a debriefing, édouard. I promise you my tutor isn’t a threat.
And I can promise if you ever follow through on the threat you made, I can’t protect you. ”
“From what?”
Interesting. He doesn’t ask from whom.