Chapter 46
Derian
Iwish we had more time.
The thought surprises me a little, but it’s true.
I want more time with her.
I want the time to teach her to harness that beautiful light of hers. I want to spend hours showing her how to use it, telling her how spectacular it is and how divine she looks using it. I want to pour sweet words over her until she isn’t afraid of that magic inside of her.
Then I want to take her to my bedroom and spend days locked inside with her. I want to take her every way I can, play out every fantasy I know she has inside that wonderfully meticulous mind of hers.
After that? I want to take her back to that training yard. I want to see what she can do when she’s not holding back and hiding her skills. I want to have a true knife-throwing contest with her.
We don’t have time, though.
My brother will be here soon. The wedding will follow shortly after. Then, I’ll need to go back to the Wastelands. I’ll need to find out if the Mother lives, and if she does, I need to be the one who kills her.
I’m the only one who stands a chance of rivaling her power.
I’ll have to leave Huntyr here. Regardless of what Taric and Cal said, I can’t let her anywhere near the Wastelands.
It’s not because I doubt her. I know my Huntress is more than capable of defending herself.
I knew that even before I saw she had the power to kill a Velkai with one touch.
And yes, I even recognize that she does deserve the ability to make the decision for herself.
The truth is, I won’t be able to think straight if she’s there. I’ll be so worried that something will happen that leaves her looking like she did last night.
Small. Child-like. Broken down.
I’d give all my fortune to never have to see her like that again.
“Where’s he going?” she asks, nodding ahead to where Cal breaks away from the road that leads into the manor, right in front of the gates to the estate.
I can hear Taric and Ulna breaking away behind us, already heading towards one of the guest houses on the property. She watches them go, face scrunched in thought.
“Cal is going to check with the guards that monitor the perimeter of the manor. We’re safe here, and perfectly capable of fending off anyone or anything that threatens that safety, but at the end of the day, I am a prince. So, it’s as much their job to protect me as it’s mine to protect Luceron.”
She snorts, as if the idea that I am beholden to the same kinds of restrictions as any other royal is funny to her.
“Make disparaging noises all you want. You’re a few weeks away from being a princess yourself.”
That earns me one of those delicious glares that makes me want to peel her clothes off of her. I can't help but to wet my lips as I give her a wink. Gods, I can’t wait to get her into my bedchamber. On a proper bed after sleeping in tents on the ground.
We pass through the front gates, and I lead her towards where a stable hand is already waiting to take away and care for our horses.
When I grasp her hand in mine and start leading her towards the house, she doesn’t protest, she just curls her fingers around my own, a simple gesture that causes my blood to pump unevenly for a brief moment as we make our way towards the house.
I have a few properties across the kingdom, but my manor at Springhallow has always been my favorite.
It was passed down through the generations on my mother’s side of the family.
Luceron never much cared for the climate here, and has very little reason to ever leave Bridgemond, so the property became mine when she died.
Warmth surges in me as I take in the intricate stonework, arched entryways, and large chimneys.
It’s been far too long since I was last here.
In my absence, though, the staff has been diligent in their upkeep.
Every one of the various round and rectangular windows sparkle.
I pay them a small fortune to make sure this home stays exactly as it did when my mother owned it.
I lead Huntyr through the front door and step aside, watching her as she takes it all in.
Her eyes scan over the entryway, tracing over the coffered wooden ceiling and deep red walls.
Above the mosaic rug in the center of the space sits a wooden table, hundreds of years older than I am, a bouquet of fresh tulips atop it.
Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in the fireplace to her right, topped with a carved mantelpiece and framed by a large stone archway, but she doesn’t give away any indication of what she’s thinking.
“May I?” she asks, waving a hand towards the rest of the house.
I tuck my hands in my pockets and nod, content to follow her as she explores.
She moves slowly, carefully taking advantage of the opportunity to build her spatial awareness of this new place.
I want to know her every thought, but for now I allow her this time to take stock of her surroundings, knowing she needs to know what’s contained in every room, and track where all the exits are.
She needs that if she’s going to find any semblance of peace here.
Allowing her this also allows me the chance to measure her initial reactions. There aren’t many people I’ve allowed into this house besides the staff who maintain it. Cal is probably my most frequent guest, but even Taric and Ulna have only been a handful of times.
This is a place I keep to myself. One of the very few things that exists only for the sake of my happiness.
Until now.
Now, I’m letting Huntyr Lachlan, noblewoman, assassin, and Conclave champion, explore the house that is to be hers in a few weeks. This house is one of the many things that comes with being my wife.
She makes her way to the staircase to the upper floors, trailing her fingers against the carved railing.
The staircase has always been my favorite part of the manor.
It twists around the entryway, winding across the wall in a way that makes it the true centerpiece of the home, both beautiful in its splendor and grounding in its construction.
“It’s incredible,” she finally says softly, turning those eyes to me. There’s so much warmth in that gaze. So much that I think she may truly realize how much this house means to me.
Huntyr knows how significant it is that I’m allowing her into this space.
She turns her head back to the stairs, tilting it backwards so she can peer up to the second floor landing, but the motion causes the light from the arched window above to fall across her face and I soak in the sight of her.
I’ve stared at her plenty of times before. I’ve watched her both when she’s aware and painfully unaware of my attention. And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever had the privilege of being allowed to so closely look at her when she’s so relaxed.
Her skin has tanned slightly from the journey, making her natural blush seem pinker than normal.
And Gods help me, those freckles. With the sun coloring her cheeks, they’re so much more noticeable than before.
A splattering of them across her nose and cheeks that’s giving me the sudden desire to count everyone.
I’m just about to grab her hand and show her the rest of the house, the bedrooms of the house in particular, when there’s a knock at the door. Cal opens it without invitation, a smile playing on his lips as he looks not at me… but her.
“Your guest is here.”
Four words.
It takes four words for an entirely new version of her to emerge.
Her eyes spark as a glittering smile splits her face, and then she’s moving. No hesitation. No explanation. She sprints away from me and through the front door with hardly a breath.
I’ve never seen her so happy.
I follow her out just in time to see her throw herself at the dark-haired girl walking up the pathway to the house, the Fae group I’d sent to retrieve her nodding at me before turning to the guest houses.
Huntyr is crying.
She hugs the girl before pulling back to cradle her head and look over her. They’re nearly identical, standing at the same height and sporting that same impossibly dark hair. The other girl's skin is lighter, and her eyes are dark brown, nearly black, but there’s no denying the resemblance.
“Do you think her sister is Fae too?” Cal asks beside me, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against his house.
His words send ice pouring through me.
I hadn’t even stopped to consider that.
That fucking favor.
I’d been so consumed by the magic of it, pulling me to save her sister, that I hadn’t even stopped to question anything about the existence of a sister. I don’t even know the girl’s name.
I don’t know if she is just as formidable of a warrior as Huntyr is.
If this girl has the kind of magic Huntyr has, though, that rare magic that can kill Velkai, that’s something we need to know sooner rather than later.