Chapter Nineteen
Phenex
Leaving Seraphina was near impossible. Even in that dull linen dress I conjured up, her toned body and perfect curves were the most enticing things I’d ever seen.
Having her all to myself, even for just a few hours, was pure bliss.
My soul was glowing with hope and possibilities.
When I opened up to her in the forest, the tiniest spark of light hummed in my soul.
And I knew with every fiber of my being it was our bond trying to come back.
Of course, it was unheard of for a mate bond to return after being broken, but just because it had never been done before, didn’t mean it couldn’t be.
I wasn’t lying about checking on Dev, either. His soul glowed within the gemstone, so I knew he was still in there, thriving and probably jealous of my time with our girl.
“Don’t worry, baby,” I cooed at the dagger. “You’ll be out soon, and I promise you can fuck our girl as soon as you are.”
The gem pulsed and heat radiated from it, as if he heard me.
I tapped the red stone. “Oh, you want me in your ass? Of course, Dev. You know I want to fuck all your sexy holes.”
The young man choked, a sudden coughing fit coming on, and I grinned. “You know I can hear you, right?”
Apparently, I was not allowed to wander on my own, so bow-and-arrow boy was still here. I nearly forgot. “If your innocent ears can’t handle what they hear, perhaps you should scamper back to your mother’s skirts.”
The male’s face flushed angrily, but he said nothing. He was a soldier, a worker bee who followed orders and understood the hierarchy. I was a prince, although not to the truxens. But Seraphina was royalty, and I was hers, therefore, this soldier would not talk back.
“What’s your name?” I asked, casually flipping the dagger into the air and catching it with ease.
“Elgo,” he murmured.
I patted his shoulder, maybe a little too heavily, because he stumbled. “You’re a good soldier, Elgo. And while I could still kill you for pointing a weapon at my mate, I appreciate your loyalty to the safety of your people.”
Elgo’s shoulders relaxed, and he wasn’t quite so tense as we made our way to the main level of the manor.
The female we were seeing was a hybrid, half witch and half truxen.
She was several hundred years older than me, with considerable power.
She was a Scribe, a keeper of stories and histories of our people.
Scribes retained the knowledge of all creatures, not just their own.
And Scribe Lahabiel I’d heard of decades ago.
My father was interested in her knowledge of the prophecies after hearing the one relating to his demise.
Scribe Lahabiel lived in a smaller home separate from the manor, close to the edge of the forest. The door to her cottage was open, the smell of some delicious stew wafting through the air.
Her living quarters were simplistic and reminiscent of the medieval days.
Our more primitive years ended thousands of years before the humans’ Industrial Revolution on Earth.
But some of our elders, like Lahabiel, still chose to live without most modern technology. Elgo hesitated at the doorway, but I had little patience and even less time, so I pushed past him.
A deep chuckle caught my attention, and I turned to the rocking chair facing the fireplace. While it was summer in Liboteria, being as far north as we were, the air kept its chill.
“I’ve been waiting for you, young prince,” the Scribe spoke, her voice low and slow. “Make yourself a cup of soup and come sit. Tell Elgo he can go. I’ve got my eye on you.”
I grinned. Old crones were my favorite, so feisty. Elgo bowed to her from the doorway and took off. Because I wasn’t a complete ass, and because I couldn’t remember when my last meal was, I followed her instructions and poured myself some soup.
Taking a seat on a large cushion near the fire, I scarfed down the meat and vegetable stew while she watched me. Daemons and lumens kept their youthful bodies for centuries, and witches lived not quite as long, but a few hundred years longer than non-magical beings like humans.
She eyed the dagger at my hip and held out her hand. I passed it to her, trusting she understood the magic connected to it.
“Who did this?” she asked, brushing her slightly gnarled fingers over the ruby stone.
“Delphine Bellinor.” I spoke between bites of stew. “He’s still okay in there?”
She smirked. “Yes, for now. Delphine. It’s been many years since I heard her name.”
“She’s coming here with the others. Any day now.” My bowl empty, I did the polite thing and placed the dish in her sink before returning to my seat.
Scribe Lahabiel nodded. “It will be good for her to return home. Her magic is very strong and the spell is sound.”
She handed the dagger back to me, and I sighed with relief. Delphine seemed powerful, but it was good to have the extra reassurance. I hesitated with my next question, and the Scribe watched me with all-to-clever eyes.
“You look lost, young prince.” She spoke softly, as if she knew all the things I wanted to say.
A sigh escaped my lips. “I need to know something. Can a mate bond be restored after it has been broken?”
The elder watched me for several minutes, her chocolate brown eyes glowing slightly. The anticipation of her answer was going to fucking kill me.
“It has never been done.” The Scribe’s voice pitched, a cadence of power lifting the sound into something more.
“And yet, there is a story. A tale of one who will come to unite the worlds, and this creature would share her heart with five true mates. The creature would face unimaginable hardships and lose her mates in the process.”
My heart broke at her words, but I let her continue.
She rocked slowly in her chair. “The tale goes, this creature and her chosen mates would seek help from Aleya Danai Kel. That beneath the mountain, they would find the answers they sought.”
Hope lit a fiery path within my veins. “And their bonds would be restored?”
The Scribe shrugged. “The tale is thousands of years old. The ending has been lost to us. Even I cannot say what could happen.”
I nodded, still feeling like this was the answer I needed. “Has anyone gone under the mountain and tried to restore a broken bond? All the stories I know of the goddess beneath the mountain talk of death. No one comes out.”
She grinned. “Yes, the dark tales are mostly true. Only once did a creature return from the mountain.”
This was news to me. I leaned forward, eager for the answer. “Who?”
Scribe Lahabiel leaned forward, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief that rivaled my own. “Belfegor.”