Chapter 13 #3
The reek of Cillian and Mora’s scents wrapped in sex was no longer the worst thing Zadriel needed to endure.
His stomach dropped. Was his brother mad?
Heat flooded his body, a power he rarely acknowledged thrashing in his chest. “You simply know,” he said, careful to keep his voice dull.
Free of the fury building beneath his skin.
Cillian’s hand stilled. “There’d be no question? No wondering or... wishing?”
A muscle ticked in Zadriel’s jaw. “No, there’d be no wishing.” His dark, glittering eyes traced the tent’s seams, unable to stand the sight of his brother. The wild part of his nature longed to declare Mora was his. Instead, he swallowed hard past the new growl brewing in his throat.
“Could it be different between two Halflings?” Cillian leaned closer, a hopeful sort of wonder lighting up his face. “Maybe there’s less certainty?”
Zadriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Mother spare me.
“No answer for me, brother?” Cillian pushed.
“How would I know the intricacies of such things?” he seethed. “I was stolen from Arcadia when I was eight!”
Azure eyes narrowed. “Your ire belongs to my father.”
“I’m well aware.” Zadriel sat up, strands of mussy black hair falling over his forehead.
He couldn’t help but stare longingly at the exit, wishing he could leave.
He needed to bathe in the soothing scents of evergreens and find comfort among the trees, but there would be no escaping Cillian until his brother was satisfied.
“I’m not myself today,” he offered, hoping it would be enough. There was no sense in telling Cillian the truth.
That warm feeling in Zadriel’s chest curled around his heart.
It was an ember, a tiny flame that would never grow into anything more, yet, he felt protective of it.
He had a mate. Someone the Mother saw as his equal.
His partner. The one meant to stand by his side through it all.
For decades, Cillian was all Zadriel had.
To have another, a family to call his own...
it was a beautiful possibility. One that would remain a dream, but it was his dream, and he had no intention of sharing it with another.
That didn’t mean he could stand his brother’s delusions.
Zadriel forced himself to look at Cillian. “She’s not your mate.” He pressed his hand to his abdomen, the sting of the Little Witch’s magic still lingering there. “I can say that with all certainty, and I think you know it too.”
Cillian recoiled, his cheeks reddening. “Don’t assume you know my mind.”
“What is this about?”
The knapsack buckled under Cillian’s grip, his fingers sinking into rough-spun fabric.
“My father’s had his eye on the crown since before I was born.
A legacy for our bloodline. A new world for the Halflings.
An eventuality he was all too happy to spend lifetimes pursuing.
You know as well as I do, he’s a bitter man, but he’s always believed in destiny.
Until now, I wasn’t sure I believed in the same. ”
Zadriel blinked, his heart sputtering. “What’s changed?”
“I’ve never felt anything like this.” Dumping the contents of his bag on the floor, Cillian rifled through his clothes, blue eyes sparkling. “The moment I saw her power, I knew. It’s fate. Mora is the crown, and the crown was always meant to be mine.”
Zadriel stood before he could think better of it, hands fisted at his sides. “Have you lost your mind?”
Cillian shrugged. “Time will tell. My father has a bigger vision than you know. I’m beginning to believe I was destined to bring it to life.
” He pulled a tunic free from the pile. It was the deepest shade of red, with golden embroidery curling over the shoulders.
Something fit for a noble. Likely a gift from an upper-class Halfling who’d fled to Eden—Cillian had prepared for anything.
“I will lead Halflings into a new era, with Mora at my side. I’m going to marry her. ”
“The woman you intended to kidnap? That you met last night?” Zadriel scoffed. “This is hardly a love story, brother.”
He grimaced when Cillian tore off his white top, revealing the half-moon shaped cuts Mora’s nails had left on his shoulders.
“All Mora knows is a Fae attacked her in the alley and I, the charming stranger, rescued her from harm. It’s a fitting story.”
Zadriel’s upper lip curled as he glared down at his brother. “It’s a lie.”
“One she will be all too happy to believe.” Shrugging on his fine clothing, Cillian rose, grinning wide while he adjusted his belt, jostling the bag and journal resting above his right thigh.
“I can hardly describe it, Zade. The Fates smiled down upon us when they led Mora into my arms.” He paused for a moment, chewing on his left cheek.
“The only other person I’ve witnessed with magic curling around them like that is you. ”
It took every ounce of Zadriel’s self-control to keep his gods damned mouth shut. To stay still and not follow when Cillian pushed past him.
“I have a few things to arrange before she wakes and makes her way home, and then I intend to rush to the castle and declare my intentions to her parents,” Cillian said, making his way to the tent door.
Zadriel cringed, something cracking within him. His mouth felt dry, a sinking feeling churning in his gut. The kiss of fresh air wasn’t enough—how could he endure this? “What about Arcadia?” he pleaded, utterly desperate to escape. “When will you release me?”
Cillian hesitated, muscles tensing in his shoulders.
“When I’m done in Moldenna, as promised.
” He stepped out onto the spring grass, crushing the blades under his boots.
Before he was too far, Cillian glanced over his shoulder.
“Watch her for me and make sure she finds her way back to the castle safely.”
Cillian weaved through the woods, the deep red of his tunic fading, swallowed by a sea of pines and maples. He didn’t wait for an answer. There was no sense in it.
What choice did Zadriel have but to obey?