10. Chapter Ten
Nicholas
Evera grimaced at the single bedroom apartment Nicholas rented using golden nuggets. Those nuggets would morph into balls of dirt in six months’ time, but that was the renter’s fault for not asking the right questions.
“You are sleeping here. Willingly?” Evera knocked a heel against the bed frame that creaked in response.
The warped floorboards leaned inward. A broken chandelier swayed from the ceiling where a breeze came in through the mismatched ceiling planks.
Certainly not a room like the castle’s, but he had no interest in staying where the king would bother him and, potentially, his father.
Laurent could find him wherever he went, but he would at least put up a challenge, if only to be mildly annoying.
“For now.” He sat on the bed waiting for sun up.
William had been more receptive toward him last night than expected. He let Nicholas hold him, if only for a moment, and joked a little. It was like reuniting the moon with the ocean.
Evera snickered and spoke as if she read his thoughts. “Your mortal won’t share a bed with you?”
“He said he needs time.”
“That is a mortal’s way of saying they don’t want you.”
“You don’t know him,” he growled.
What if I do not return your affections?
William had asked. The possibility never arose in his mind.
He couldn’t fathom a world where William didn’t share this voracious want more painful than dying.
They were meant to be together, not because of fate.
He didn’t believe in such wanton conceptions.
They were meant to be because the two of them wove their future together, stitched their story bit by bit through every interaction.
They would be because they wanted to be, and nothing mattered more than that.
William would come around. He would see the truth as they spent more time together.
That’s what he said he needed, and last night may have proved that.
They were close for a moment, and they would have more thanks to this adventure.
Nicholas didn’t give a damn about missing mortals.
He didn’t care about shadowed disciples.
He cared about William, and if giving William his desires meant they could be together, then he would force the world on its axis if he had to.
Evera leaned against the windowsill where the off white paint chipped beneath her fingernails.
“I know you well enough to recognize panic. Deceive yourself as much as you need, but that won’t change the truth; the mortal knows you’re a lost cause.
The question remains whether he will escape your grasp before you choke the life out of him. ”
“You sound like my father,” he spat.
“I hate the bastard, but he is far more intelligent than both of us combined.”
He shot her a spiteful look. “With how you speak, I am wondering if you want to return to Faerie. Maybe you’re waiting for me to give up hope.”
Her voice rose an octave, and nails tore into the windowsill. “You missed the one opportunity we had to change this and you’re too manic to realize that truth. My hope is gone and I see no reason to avoid the inevitable. The sooner this deal is over with, the sooner we can return to our lives.”
“Now, who is the manic one to believe either of our parents will let us do what we want without a fight? Have they not ruled over us our whole lives?” he challenged.
“Alvina may not be as ruthless as Laurent, but she has sway over you, over all her children. We’re too young.
We know so little compared to our parents.
They will have us beneath their thumbs as long as they can.
You know this, deep down in the darkest part of your heart, you know I speak true, but you are the one who refuses to see it. ”
Sunlight stained the window in a warm yellow glow. Evera stepped aside when he approached, her lips set into a grim line. He opened the window, letting the metallic scent of the city waft through their nostrils.
“Follow me, return to Faerie, bicker all you want, but my mind is made up. I will fight against Laurent and Alvina until the day I die, or they do, preferably by my hand. At least that may be the greatest outcome of this change within me.” He held a hand over his chest where power surged.
He thought this energy was loud before, but he couldn’t describe the sensation now.
Not an itch, not a craving, a feeling of so much more pushing against every fold of his mind, yearning for freedom.
“Perhaps I can kill them,” he whispered. He didn’t know his own strength, what he was or wasn’t capable of, but he saw what Fearworn could do and he nearly tore their worlds apart. Why couldn’t Nicholas do the same with enough understanding?
“I may have fallen, but they will fall with me and if it gives me a day, a month, a year at William’s side, I will be grateful for it,” he said.
“You are quite mad,” she countered, but didn’t sound so angry about that possibility.
He slipped outside to the streets beneath the window where the damp clung to every breath.
Laurent had a long line of victories and didn’t speak of loss.
At some point, Laurent had been young, impressionable, foolish even, but he never spoke on it.
Why would he? That may clue Nicholas and his siblings in on a way to beat him.
A story could encourage them to give defiance a chance, to stand against him and win.
Nicholas never thought that possible for most of his life, but the last two years changed him.
Power changed him. He knew that some way, somehow, he would get the upper hand.
One may argue he already had by breaking a deal that Laurent thought would keep his son in line.
Evera didn’t believe they could go against Laurent or Alvina.
While she wasn’t as old and powerful as Laurent, Alvina remained a force to be reckoned with.
She had vast lands and knowledge that could end most. Standing against one, let alone both, would have most quivering in their boots.
But if that meant he would be free to stay by William’s side, he would face them. He would face anything.
At the clinic, he snuck in from the windows, using the rafters to encroach upon William’s office. Last time, his presence upset the patients. No one saw him, so that should please William, and he wanted their day to start off as well as it could.
But William wasn’t in his office. Believing he came too early, Nicholas waited along the rooftop for over an hour.
Evera found a mortal to deceive, chatting with them in an alley.
Since she was distracted, he wandered off to the Vandervult estate, the only other place he thought William could be at such an early hour.
Mortals lived in cold structures built of silent stone or wood. They had a love for architecture, though, in a way he didn’t understand but could appreciate. Their yards and gardens were trimmed, unable to flourish, but had a sense of peace about them that called for a good nap.
First, he peeked into William’s bedroom window.
The room was empty. He shuffled along the high steepled roof, then settled in the backyard.
Asiatic lilies invaded the garden. They allowed the estate to smell far better than the city.
He shifted through the greenery, spotting a familiar head of blonde through a window.
Part of the Vandervult family ate breakfast together.
Two had to be the heads of the household, Robert and Matilda.
The other must be a brother, clearly not Henry.
He hated himself for never having asked their names.
He wanted to know every detail about William so he could covet it like mortals coveted gold.
William spoke with his brother, donning a smile, then he laughed, a sound so pure and light Nicholas’ heart skipped, shuddered, then burned.
His nails scraped the paint along the windowsill.
Blood rushed in his ears. His feet carried him to a backdoor.
Inside, the hall was empty. His fingers twitched and cracked, ears warmed from the sound of William’s voice, the slight cheer behind his words. A cheer he didn’t show to Nicholas.
Teeth gnashing, the fae crept to the dining area.
The hinges were silent as he peeked in. A genuine family sat and ate like that, sharing stories, laughing, and caring.
He hated this sinking feeling in his gut, how William didn’t notice him, how his attention never strayed.
Nicholas wanted that attention. He needed it.
Deserved it after all they had been through, but the Vandervults were in the way.
They had to go.
William caught him. He didn’t know how or why. But William stood, poised and gentle, in his departure. “I should head out,” he said. “I have work to attend to. I’ll be home for supper.”
“You better be,” said Matilda, with her back to the door. “Everyone will be here tonight for a proper family supper.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” William kissed her cheek. He nodded to his father at the head of the table, who didn’t look up from the paper when he waved.
He retreated from the doorway when William caught his eye, and he waited for that door to open. William’s scowl greeted him, irritating him further. Why couldn’t he smile like earlier? Why couldn’t Nicholas meld more easily into the family he so loved?
William took firm hold of his arm, but he wouldn’t leave the hall.
“Why in the Souls are you here?” William hissed.
“You weren’t at the clinic,” he answered.
“You couldn’t have waited?” William tugged, trying to get him away from the door. He wouldn’t budge. He kept thinking of William’s family in there, how they saw sides of William he never had, and maybe never would. He envied them and all they had.
“I hadn’t planned to interrupt, but they were annoying me,” he snarled.
William’s grip tightened. “Who was annoying you?”
“Your family. You are different around them, happier. You smile so easily for them, laugh, too. They do not deserve it, not as I do.”
“What are you…” William went pale. “What are you saying?”
A muscle feathered in his jaw and his voice came out strained.
“You spend more time here and at that damned clinic than with me. I’m out here searching, helping you, but you won’t smile at me like that.
Your family brings you such joy that I should bring you instead.
If they aren’t here, then I may do so. I can do better, my wicked.
I will make you happier once they’re gone. ”
William caught him by the collar of his shirt; held so tight, the fae choked and stumbled.
William pushed until they crossed the hall and his back hit the other side.
His eyes darkened, bleak, as if he were no longer there.
It was something else, but that something lasted little more than a moment.
William’s bottom lip trembled. His other hand caught the back of Nicholas’ neck, holding so fiercely his bones ached beneath the pressure.
“Don’t say that. If you harm my family, I… don’t make me hurt you,” William whispered with tears in his eyes.
He didn’t mean to make William cry. He never wanted to put that kind of pain on William’s face. He cursed himself, hated ever having thought about such things. He would do anything to make this right. His breathing became staggered and felt it again; fear, panic.
“I didn’t mean to upset you. I wouldn’t…” He grabbed William’s hands where he couldn’t tell who was trembling. He was desperate to be understood, to fix things. “Your family is important to you. I know that. I wouldn’t…”
But he couldn’t say he wouldn’t hurt them because, deep down, he knew he could. That he would if that voice took control, if it had its way.
The more he was with William, the more he wanted.
It didn’t matter if they spent every moment of every day together.
He craved more. And the others were right to be concerned, to fear him, for he couldn’t stop thinking about ridding the world of every obstacle that prevented him from being by William’s side, always.
“They will be obstacles,” Laurent had warned, and he had been correct.
“Your eyes.” William cradled his cheeks. “They’re pink.”
He released a bitter laugh and leaned against William’s touch. “I am sorry. I am not myself.”
“So you’re aware of that?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I think something is wrong but can’t explain what it is and others I think I am someone else entirely. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Fae didn’t apologize. They weren’t supposed to, but he would apologize to William for the rest of their lives. It was as honest as he could be, and William knew that.
“I know. You don’t have to apologize.” Then he trapped Nicholas in his arms, holding with an aching ferocity, as if he tried to pour every feeling into this touch alone. “It’s not your fault.”
He returned William’s embrace. He wished they hugged for better reasons, because they missed each other, because William shared his love. Not because he couldn’t control himself and they were both frightened.
The dining-room door swung open. William released him. Robert stepped into the hall, his eyes on the paper, then on them. He froze. Behind him, Matilda gasped. Nicholas raised a hand and smiled. “Good morning. I am not here to start any trouble.”
Which may not have been the best opener.