Chapter 21
I open my eyes to see the midday sun streaming across the bedroom ceiling. After my exploration of Ruskin’s mind, I’d been desperate to talk to him…but not quite as desperate as I’d been to sleep. Based on the position of the sun, I can’t have been out for more than a few hours, but fresh energy fizzes under my skin, along with excitement, as I look over to see Ruskin stood with his back to me, staring out the window.
He looks reflective, locked so deeply in thought that I wonder if it’s overwhelming in its own way, having so much memory—so much life—come rushing back to you all at once.
He barely has time to turn around before I scramble out of bed and throw myself at him. He catches me in his arms with a light laugh and doesn’t waste words, pulling me close to kiss me, hard. I feel light as air while our lips fight to claim each other, and still I don’t know if I can quite believe it.
“Do you remember me, really?” I whisper, my face still close to his. “Who I am, what we are? All of it?”
His eyes tighten, like the doubt in my voice causes him pain.
“Of course. All of it. You are Ella, my Gold Weaver, so beautiful and brilliant you’ve rescued me twice over from the darkness of Interra, and won my heart twice over too.” There’s a thoughtful look on his face, and for a moment, I see a flash of the memory-shrouded Ruskin I pulled through the Interra portal. It’s strange, but comforting, to think that both versions still exist, both inside one man.
“Now you say it, you really do like to make me work for it, don’t you?” I tease.
“On the contrary,” he says, brushing my hair over my shoulders to expose my neck. He lowers his lips to my ear, murmuring the rest of his answer so that a jolt of desire runs through me.
“I find there’s an utter inevitably to it all,” he says. “You’d always have my heart, because you’re mine, destined for me, my naminai , and I yours.”
If I had any resistance to him, the possessiveness of his words would have banished it. As it is, my legs are already weak beneath me. I lean into where his hand has dropped suggestively to my hip, as he traces my jaw with his mouth.
“There’s so much…” I search for the words. “When I was in your mind,” I say, already a little breathless, “I saw us, together, for the first time, in the library.” I meet his gaze, feeling my heart swell at the recognition in his eyes. “It was…”
“Magnificent?” He chuckles as if he knows exactly where I’m going with this, before his eyes darken with want. “It was the cruelest of punishments to have so many wonderful moments with you stolen away from me, Ella, and now I have them back I’m determined to relive them a million times over.”
“Moments, such as?” I tease, nestling closer. I loved Ruskin before his memories returned, but I have all of him now, and I’m desperate to enjoy everything with him, knowing every touch holds the same meaning for him as it does for me. “Tell me about them,” I say, pressing my hips into him. “Remind me.”
His hand cups between my legs and, even through the fabric of my clothes, the gentle pressure sets my body alight.
“Like having you pressed up against the wall in the rose garden, my fingers inside you,” he answers, stroking my rapidly heating core. “I could feel how much you wanted me, and stars ,” he makes an exasperated noise at the memory, “I was all but feral for you, and still you were too stubborn to let me have you. I damn near ripped the palace apart after you walked away that night.”
I can feel myself flush with arousal at the way he tells it, helping me remember it right along with him. Nonetheless, I can’t help but laugh at the characterization—as if he was the only one who suffered.
“It wasn’t easy for me either, you know,” I say, running a finger along his belt, aware of his straining erection just inches away from my fingertips. “I dreamed of you touching me, of the feel of you in my hands…” I press my palm against his groin to emphasize my point, making his eyes close for a moment. “…And still I had to wait.”
He smirks. “I seem to remember you didn’t last twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t remember you complaining about that,” I say, deftly opening his pants and pulling his cock free. He draws my fingertips away, backing me up against the dresser and pushing up my skirts. I take the opportunity to tug my underwear down with a little gasp of excitement. I feel sure he’s going to take me right now against the furniture, and I have absolutely no complaints about that.
His strong thigh presses against the inside of mine, spreading my legs wider, exposing my aching core, and I hitch one leg up over his hip, throwing my head back and holding my breath, waiting for him to enter me, but instead he takes himself in his hand and rubs the head of his cock against my clit, caressing it with his silky skin. My nerves spark and dance at the gentle friction—never quite enough, holding me on the edge of ecstasy. I buck my hips up against him and lift my head to meet his gaze. His eyes are bright as stars, gleaming with a deep joy I instantly recognize in myself too, and I can’t help but grin stupidly up at him. He covers my smile with a kiss, and I lap up the sweet taste of him.
“What will it be, Ella?” he asks, when our mouths part, a devilish smile playing on his own lips. “Should I bend you over and have you like I did in the library?”
I quiver at the thought, then gasp as he strokes himself more firmly against my opening.
“Or should I take you on top of the dressing table, like you seemed to enjoy so much?”
My mind comes alive with the memory of our last visit to the Unseelie Court.
“Or perhaps on the floor, with you taking me for a ride? Though I’m afraid we’ll have to forgo the tent.”
I close my eyes, trying to fight my blind hunger for him so I can conjure up a coherent answer.
“All of it,” I whimper, unable to choose. “I want all of it.”
He cradles my face.
“Oh I know, my love,” he says soothingly. “I was just asking where you wanted to start.”
I soon discover he’s not joking. Ruskin seems to want to relive every time we’ve made love, every angle that we’ve found to take pleasure in each other. I thank my increased strength and stamina by the time he brings me to climax for the third time. He asks me if I want more and I say yes, beg for it. We’re making up for the missing days, and perhaps both a little afraid that if we ever stop, we might lose them again.
He seems to sense this edge of anxiety in me, because when we finish from that round, it’s in the comforting embrace of the bed, Ruskin leaning over me, and whispering to me in calming tones.
“It’s all right, Ella, I’m here now,” he says, and I’m shocked to find myself almost on the edge of tears. A strange storm of happiness floods into me, tension rushing out of me at the same time. I trace the planes of his face with my fingers.
“I know you never left,” I say truthfully. “Not really. But sometimes it felt so lonely, being the only one to remember us , how we were.”
I see the flash of pain in his face at my admission. “I never want you to feel alone like that again,” he says, almost angrily.
“I won’t,” I reply, the words carrying my certainty. “Because I know now, even if I have to turn this realm upside down, I can always find a way back to you. I just might need you to remind me of that fact every once in a while,” I whisper.
“Of course,” he promises and kisses me, his strong hands wrapping around my back to pull me up against his chest, the soft yielding flesh of my body meeting the firm muscles of his. I moan softly into his mouth and wrap my legs around his waist. Our lips still exploring each other, he presses himself inside me again, my already sated body taking the length of him easily. This time there’s no frenzied movement, just slow, steady strokes, our bodies fitting perfectly together, as we clasp tight to each other like we’ll never let go.
The final, shuddering completion washes all anxiety away from me, and we collapse together into the soft mattress, neither one of us making any move to separate for a long time after. When we do, I nestle up close against Ruskin’s chest, his arms enclosing me, and I breathe in his sweet scent.
It’s the smell of home to me. I’d imagine he feels the same way about my scent. Parts of us live inside one other now. Ruskin may not have looked inside my head, but I know he’s there, always with me. It’s where I want him to be, even with the price. And there is a price. The memory of the bloody throne room I saw in Ruskin’s head is still with me, hovering in the background, and as I slip into sleep, it morphs into another scene, where I stand in Cavalil, and I’m the one spraying crimson across the ground.
I’m aware of feeling relieved when my dream doesn’t dwell on either image for too long, taking me through a confusing stream of other scenes from Ruskin’s memories. And then I’m waking again, this time with him still warm and close by my side.
“Ruskin, I learned something about Evanthe when I was in your memory,” I murmur. He immediately opens his eyes, confirming my suspicions that he wasn’t fully asleep.
“You have questions about what you saw?” he asks, tilting his head curiously.
“Maybe. But I get the feeling you might not know this.” I recall the way my magic twitched as I watched the fight between Ruskin and Evanthe in Interra, sensing there was something there for me to latch onto. “I got a glimpse of…something unexpected.”
He props himself up on his elbow, giving me his full attention, and watching me expectantly.
“There’s dark magic inside her, we were right about that, but there’s also iron. I missed a piece—or rather, I think Cebba’s magic hid it from me, because it’s wrapped all around it—a shard larger than the rest, buried in her heart.”
It was different, seeing the metal from inside a memory, with my magic and Ruskin’s working together. The light of the bond illuminated Evanthe until her chest is almost translucent, veins and arteries visible against the orange glow—but the jagged shape of the metal stood out, darker than the rest, not allowing any light to touch it.
“She still had her iron powers miles from the rose garden, all the way in Cavalil. I think that’s only possible because she’s carrying the source of it with her, protected by Cebba’s—and now maybe even Interra’s—magic.”
I see Ruskin’s face shift to a look of determination. He understands what I’m saying.
“You think targeting that shard could be a way to beat her?”
“I think it could be. If nothing else, removing it might at least weaken her.”
He nods. “You’re on the king’s council now, and he’s seen Evanthe’s power in action. He has a sense of how dangerous it can be. If we have a firm plan to neutralize that danger, he may very well back us.”
I grimace. I’ve only just got all of Ruskin back, and already we have to turn our minds to war. “I have to say, I’m not loving the idea of fighting another battle so soon, even if we did win the last one.”
Ruskin’s face darkens. “There’s something I need to tell you too. In the battle at Cavalil, that older fae, Lord Turis, and his friends from the bastet game tried several times to sabotage me.”
I sit straight up. “What?”
“I wasn’t sure the first time. We were fighting near each other, almost side by side, when a pair of Seelie fae came up behind me and almost cut me down. It seemed strange, because the way Turis and Climent were positioned, they should’ve seen the Seelie approach, and warned me. But they said nothing.”
I ball my fists into the sheets, my anger simmering.
“And then later on, his teammate—Hartflood, the one who can transform into a stag—charged past me, and all but shoved my horse into the path of a Seelie spell. I only just managed to block it with a well-placed tree. Luckily, we were close enough to the border for my magic to work quickly.”
The rage boils over. “I’ll kill them,” I say. “I’ll choke their bodies so full of metal their own mothers won’t recognize them. I’ll?—”
Ruskin lays a soothing hand on my arm, and I abruptly come to a stop. I blink, surprised at myself, and yet still so full of fury at the thought of anyone daring to lay a hand on Ruskin.
Ruskin pulls me down to kiss him, and the press of our still naked bodies distracts me from some of my anger.
“I forget how terrifying you can be when you want to.” He says it jokingly, but I feel a guilty twinge. Perhaps there’s some truth to it. “They didn’t hurt me,” he goes on, sitting up and pulling me into his lap to stroke his fingers along my spine. “But it’s clear that they wanted to. Which should hardly come as a surprise, if Turis is the one responsible for my father’s murder.”
“They have to be dealt with,” I say. I can tell he’s trying to soothe me with his touches, but I’m determined not to let go of my ire. “I won’t sit by and watch them plot against you, Ruskin.”
“I agree, especially as they targeted you as well. It took all my strength not to end them after the bastet game.” His hands tighten around my hips possessively.
“But what do we do? Apparently, Turis has a lot of influence at court and Climent and Hartflood are actually related to Lisinder. I don’t think we can just waltz in and accuse them of attempted murder—or even actual murder—can we? If we do that, we could lose whatever good standing we’ve built up.”
“I’ve thought of that. My mother always made sure I was well-versed on the Unseelie Court’s protocols. Probably because she thought it was good for diplomacy.” I feel him shake his head at irony. “Now that I have all my memories back, we have a well of information on the Unseelie and their traditions that we haven’t been using.”
“Like?”
He actually hesitates. It’s so unusual for Ruskin that a weight instantly settles in my stomach, and I twist around to meet his gaze.
“Like what, Ruskin?” I repeat.
He sighs. “You’re not going to like it.”