Chapter 8
GIDEON
In the darkness of early morning, I stand at the entrance of the cave, my arm outstretched as I hold a missive to the sky.
Using my winter magic, I call out to the strongest, fastest bird in the area.
I’ve been sending regular messages to King Theron, updating him on my progress as I searched for Isabel and her father, and I want to provide him with an update now that I’ve located Isabel and know the whereabouts of her father.
In the letter, I also announced that Isabel is my fated mate, which will guarantee her safety.
No one among my people, not even the king himself, would dare to take action against her for fleeing Braemar before Tribute Day.
Finally, a large black bird swoops out of the sky and snatches the missive from my hand.
I step back and watch as the bird disappears into the darkness, certain that my missive will be delivered soon.
A messenger bird glamoured with fae magic should reach the Winter Court army before nightfall no matter how far away their encampment lies, and King Theron will finally be able to assure Helena that her friends are alive and well.
It suddenly occurs to me that I haven’t yet mentioned Helena to Isabel.
Before we could get to that part of our conversation last night, the mangga swarm attacked.
It’s my understanding that the women were friends.
Perhaps if I’d offered this information last night, rather than sending her to bed after discovering she’d stolen the knives, Isabel would’ve been more inclined to allow me to join her on the furs.
Walking closer to the fire, I stare at my sleeping mate. She’s tucked beneath the furs, a troubled look on her face. All throughout the night, she thrashed around in her sleep. It’s a wonder she never kicked the furs off, though if she had, I would’ve been quick to cover her back up.
To my shock, I find that her comfort matters to me, as does her happiness. It’s a strange sensation… to suddenly become aware of your mate and want nothing more than to please her. It’s even stranger when your mate is a human female who fears you.
I suspect she’ll try to escape me the first chance she gets, and I intend to be ready for it. I intend to stop her.
I think of the protective ward I erected to keep her safe from the mangga swarm.
Perhaps I will use such wards to keep her where I want her to stay.
My little captive. After we reach the Winter Court army, when I must leave her behind in camp, it will be a useful tactic to prevent her from running away.
I try to tell myself that I would only resort to such forceful measures because I want to keep her safe, but the truth is a bit darker than that.
The truth is… the mere thought of losing her fills me with murderous rage. Every time I look at her, I experience a wave of possessiveness that steals my breath. I would burn the entire realm to the ground just to keep her with me.
She’s mine. My precious mate.
I will not part with her. No matter what. Not even if she begs me to free her. Not even if she’s unhappy with me.
Besides, I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy. I swear it on the gods.
And yet… as I stare down at her sleeping form, a wave of doubt hits me.
How do I go about making a human woman who fears me happy? I don’t know any fae males who’ve been fated to human females. Except perhaps for King Theron, though I haven’t yet confirmed whether Helena is his mate.
Gods. I think of my late parents. They were happily mated.
They were as in love as a fae couple might be.
But they found contentment together before I was ever born.
I didn’t get to witness the cultivation of their joyous union.
And so, I don’t know if my father did anything in particular to woo my mother.
Fucking fires. I drag a hand through my hair, and it catches on my curving horns. I jerk my arm down as frustration sweeps over me, a burning heat that’s almost painful.
Isabel stirs in her sleep, and her visage twists with fear. She starts murmuring in her unconscious state, and the words she speaks only serve to intensify the turmoil swirling through me.
“Please. Please let me go, Gideon. No. Please. Just let me go.”
Before I can stop it, a growl tears from my throat, causing Isabel to bolt awake. She shoots upward, holding the furs to her neck, as though using them like a shield, and peers at me with a fearful look that guts me completely.
She gazes at me with wide eyes, and she soon starts trembling. All because of me. Because I’m staring at her as though I want to rip her throat out.
I immediately turn away and walk to the entrance of the cave. I remain there for some time, peering into the darkness. Eventually, a hint of sun appears on the horizon, the faintest aura of light. It’s almost morning, and I promised Isabel we would leave to find her father before sunrise.
Should I apologize for waking her up with an angry growl? Should I apologize for glaring down at her and scaring her? I hadn’t meant to frighten her, but it’s more than obvious that I did.
Deep breaths. In and out. I try to summon a sense of calm.
The last thing I want to do is terrorize my mate, unwittingly or otherwise.
For a reason I might never know, the gods have deemed that we are meant to be together.
I should consider myself lucky and even blessed that I finally found her after all these years of searching and wondering.
Sometimes, people die. Fae. Humans. Orcs.
No one is impervious to death. And so, there are occasionally cases where some fae males and females never find their fated mates, cases of utter loneliness that stretch for eons.
I should be thankful that’s not the situation I’m facing.
I should be thankful that I finally found Isabel.
And I am thankful… gods, I do want to keep her.
More than anything.
Striving for a calm expression, I finally turn to face her.
I try to give her an affectionate look, though she still appears frightened, so I’m not quite sure if I’m doing it right.
I’m not used to showing anyone affection.
It’s been decades since I hugged my mother—may the gods watch over her sweet soul—and I’ve never had any sisters or female cousins.
“Little moth,” I whisper softly. I take a few steps closer to Isabel and crouch before her. Reaching out, I take one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Gideon.” Her eyes dance around the cave for several moments before finally returning to me.
She swallows hard and keeps looking at me. Eventually, the glimmer of fear in her pretty green eyes starts to fade.
“Is something wrong?” she asks quietly. “Did, um, the manggas attack again?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I say.
Guilt hits me as she stares at me disbelievingly, and I wonder if I’m partly lying to her. I did promise her honesty. Godsdamn. Drawing in another deep breath, I resolve to tell the truth.
“Actually, I-I was just thinking about how I might convince you to like me, and it made me think of my parents, and I experienced a wave of dramatic thoughts, and then I heard you talking in your sleep. The exact words you said… well, I did not care for them. So, I growled and woke you up, and I suppose I should apologize for scaring you. Again.” The tips of my pointed ears burn as though they’re on fire.
I have never in my life groveled, and it feels like that’s what I’m doing now. Who knew I had such weakness inside me?
“Oh,” she says, her eyes flaring wide. “I was dreaming about you chasing me, and I was begging you to let me go. I’ve been told that I sometimes talk in my sleep.”
I give a slight nod, and I resolve that going forward, I will better control my emotions and just give Isabel quiet honesty from the start. Surely that will be better than constantly having to apologize and prostrate myself before her as though I’m surrendering in battle.
I’ve never surrendered in battle. Not once. I only know how to conquer and keep killing. I only know how to take what I want by force.
But I cannot force Isabel to care for me. The bond might compel her to feel attracted to me, but it won’t force her to love me. At least I don’t think it will. And if she never agrees to mate with me… well, the mating bond will never fully form between us.
A very dark thought strikes me.
If we never physically consummate our union, she will perish long before I do. I’ll outlive her for thousands of years, cursed to walk this realm alone. But if she allows me to claim her and we remain together, my magic will influence her lifespan, allowing her to live just as long as I do.
“Is it almost morning?” she asks.
“Yes, we should leave soon,” I say, giving her hand another squeeze.
“What town are we traveling to? The larger town in the area—I believe it’s called Hollins—or one of the smaller villages to the west?
” Last night, I’d just departed one of those smaller villages and was on my way to Hollins when I heard her scream.
“Hollins.”
“Before we leave, I suppose we should finish the conversation we were having last night.”
“Ah. Yes. I wanted to know who turned my father and me in for fleeing Braemar.” She flushes.
“You made it sound as though someone reported our names directly to the Winter King, and I must confess that seems a bit strange. My father and I weren’t elected officials or anyone of importance, and while he was once a soldier, he’s long retired.
He didn’t fight in the battle. As far as I know, he’s never killed a fae male, though I suspect he’s killed his fair share of orcs. ”
“I don’t believe anyone witnessed you escape the walls of Braemar, little moth.
King Theron has recently acquired a human female, one he seems increasingly devoted to, and she is the one who asked him to look into your welfare after you failed to show up at the castle on Tribute Day. Her name is Helena.”
Isabel’s eyes widen and fill with tears. She blinks fast and gives her head a slight shake, as though to banish a moment of confusion. “Helena. Oh, my gods. She’s alive? She’s okay?”
I nod. “Yes, she’s alive, and I believe she’s just fine.
She was captured on the streets of Braemar by Prince Alaric, who is King Theron’s younger brother, and the prince brought her to the king as a gift.
As far as I know, King Theron hasn’t harmed Helena.
In fact, I’ve heard whispers that she might be his mate reincarnated.
He was mated once, long ago, but his mate…
perished. Helena bears an uncanny resemblance to his late mate, and he’s very protective of her. ”
Isabel stares at me warily for a moment as she digests this information, news that is quite shocking to her. Eventually, she sighs, and I sense her cautious relief for her friend.
“I’m thankful that she’s alive. I was so worried about her.
She’s my dearest friend. Well… my only friend.
She was renting the upstairs room in the bakery where I lived with Papa, and she just disappeared one day.
Papa went looking for her, but he never found her.
We assumed she’d been captured by your people and was perhaps being kept as a slave. ”
“She’s definitely King Theron’s captive,” I say, still resolved to be honest with her, "but as I said, I don’t believe he’s ever harmed her.
The fact that he went out of his way to try to track down her missing friends—you and your father—makes me suspect that if she’s not his mate, then she’s a treasured concubine. ”
“Concubine? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Concubines have a higher status and are treated better than the pleasure slaves my people sometimes keep,” I say, scooting closer to her.
“Well, I’m glad she’s alive, though I hope the king eventually sets her free.” Isabel suddenly avoids my gaze, and I sense the not-so-hidden meaning in her words.
“I doubt King Theron will set Helena free.” I release her hand and grasp her chin gently between my fingers, forcing her to meet my stare. “Just as I will never set you free. You are mine, Isabel Sinclair. My little moth. My mate.”