Chapter 27
Backed into the corner of my wardrobe, I scanned the letter from Tempest. And Andie. No note from Basilia, so she was pissed on behalf of her mate.
I was okay with that.
Sister,
You have learned that we have established another form of communication.
This has granted us much information in the last few days.
Tonight, we attempt a magical strike.
Shit was about to get real.
As for what happened between us during the battle, our coven grimoires theorize that the phenomenon likely stems from our familial bond and the equal and opposite nature of our powers.
I can only imagine that the demon king will use you to his advantage, and be assured that we have put measures in place.
I’d like to also extend the apologies of the alliance. The actions of one of us put those you love at risk, and I have made this clear to King Kyros.
I believe that you must know the purple-scaled demon who was caught in my attack too. I’ll keep an eye out for him in the future. Since learning that you live, I have dreamed up any number of horrors that you have endured, but it strikes me that you might have formed up many friendships too.
“One friend,” I muttered. “And he’s unfaithful.”
I had a complex about Tsan having other friends.
My sister had signed off, and there was a small note from Andie beneath.
Queen Syera,
I smelled the scent of your magic on the blade embedded in Rhona. Thank you for giving her a choice in how she left us. The day prior to the battle I had realized that she would be unlikely to ever return to us again.
My sister did not have an easy life after my arrival in the valley, and many regrets plagued her, but ensuring that she could not be used as a tool to hurt her tribe or others would have put her soul at peace at last.
You did all that you could,
Andie
I incinerated the letter and released a pent-up breath.
Andie was seriously underestimated. The ability to forgive, to understand, and to connect so many races against the odds was a superpower. She was the glue in this alliance, and if Carmine was smart, he’d pour solvent all over her until the bonds she’d created dissolved.
I hurried to the desk and scribbled a line or two.
Closing my eyes, I posted my letter through the pipeline, then forced myself to take slow and deep breaths after.
Magus would attack the fortress tonight.
I knew nothing of their plans, and that was for the best. It wasn’t wise for them to divulge everything, and it wasn’t wise for me to do that either.
But I could still help. Carmine would retire from war council for the night soon.
I had a plan to keep him occupied.
I sat in wait until the slackening thread in me signaled Carmine’s movement to his chamber. I listened as he moved around the room, and then as he lay down in bed.
Okay.
I’d never actively sought our dreams. If the dream idea didn’t work, then I’d go to his room, but I’d prefer to keep a physical barrier between us.
I figured the dreams were born of our estranged mating combined with the funkiness of my Magus magic.
So I’d look to my Magus power first.
I slipped under my bed covers, then sank into my divination affinity. Carmine’s movements down the hall stilled, and his breaths evened in tandem with mine.
I trailed down the thread linking me to him.
My demon power surrounded me, and my Magus power dragged in my slipstream, and each of my steps grew heavier and warmer until I might have been wading through thick clouds.
When the clouds grew too thick, I sank into them. And through them.
I opened my eyes and stared at the stone ceiling.
Dammit.
“Enamai.”
I whipped my head to look at Carmine beside me on the bed. He was almost asleep and not curled around me like usual. He wasn’t one moan from entering me either.
Carmine sat and glanced around. “The dreams have never happened like this. You’re not naked.”
Huh, true. I was dressed in a camisole and short pajama set. “Different.”
I’d drag this dream out for as long as possible. Anything to give the alliance an edge.
Carmine said, “You have always left the dreams when you wish to, Syera. Did you initiate this dream?”
There went my grand plan. “I wanted to speak with you about something. I didn’t intend to meet you in a dream.”
He quirked a brow, then stood and walked to the armchair in the corner of his room. “Ask your question, mate.”
This felt more personal than usual. One, I’d chosen to come here.
Two, I’d chosen to stay. His dick wasn’t in my hand, but we were conversing, which felt more invasive.
When I’d first returned here, the opposite had held true.
But the physical touch from Carmine meant less and less these days.
Knowing him, and letting him know me was far worse.
I took a breath. “Why do we have these dreams?”
He searched my expression. “I have asked myself the same question.”
He had? Great. That was a terrible conversation starter. “Is it because we’re avoiding what we’re destined for?”
“Or because of your Magus powers?” he added.
Initiate time wasting. “Perhaps my Magus powers make it possible, but the mother would only provide dreams if they were needed. So why do we need them? What can we do here that we can’t do elsewhere?”
He surprised me with an immediate answer. “My power can’t hurt you here.”
I gripped the bed cover. “What does that mean?”
“We can’t hurt each other here.”
“That’s not what you said,” I replied after a beat. “You said ‘My power can’t hurt you here.’ When you saved me after the joining ritual, you said that you’d used your power. You’ve also said your power will make me sick. Do you mean that you can’t do that to me here?”
Carmine’s chest rose. “The nature of my power can easily hurt those around me. There is rarely a time when I can let my guard down. Naturally I notice when that force is not pressing at me.”
An icy hand plunged into my chest and grabbed my heart.
He was speaking about the white magic. Even if he’d figured out how to harness the power, the power could spill out and affect those around him.
The joining ritual hadn’t filled me with white coils.
Carmine had when he’d saved my life. That was why he didn’t want to risk more rituals—because that power was finite.
He’d lost power by saving me, and he didn’t want to lose more.
“I don’t follow,” I murmured.
“No, enamai. That is by design. Some knowledge is for kings.”
And some for queens.
“That is what you wished to speak of?” he asked while rising.
I nodded.
Carmine sat on his side of the bed.
I said, “So if the reason you won’t complete another ritual with me is that you don’t want to hurt me with your power, then why don’t we complete the next ritual in our dreams?”
He didn’t answer.
The issue was that I wasn’t a strong Magus.
A divination journey to explore the history of the tiara could be beyond my means.
I hadn’t decided against my original idea to harness the white magic, but if that wasn’t possible, then entering more rituals with Carmine was my best bet to defeat him.
Breaking a stronger mating bond would weaken him more.
And me. But I’d be out for the count anyway, and the other leaders would need to finish him regardless.
“Why?” I pressed him.
“I have no good answer for you, enamai,” he answered. “It’s not right to keep going with our mating.”
I laughed because that struck at a big source of tension between us. He’d started our mating under false pretenses. “Suddenly you have a conscience?”
“More than ever. It grows with each day of knowing you, and it has been my curse.”
I suppose that a demon would see morality that way. “Our mating has been a curse. Do you wish things had been different?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I wish that I could be what you want. I wish I could provide what you need. I wish that I was other than what I am. For you. Our mating has given me so much, and only pain to you.”
I replied, “I don’t think you’ve received more than celibacy and public humiliation in the last three years. Or can I not see the enormous gift I’ve given you?”
So long passed that I thought he wouldn’t answer.
“Our mating gives me a measure of control,” the demon king said at last.
“What does that mean?”
Carmine took my hands. “What it often means, enamai. That you are left in the dark, but somehow understand me enough, or hope enough—and figure out far more than I intend.”
“I don’t like when you speak like that.” The words flowed from my lips.
I’d intended to waste time, not confess my deep thoughts to him.
“I know, my mate. Sometimes I am weak, though I try to be strong.”
“My grandmother would say that a need to always appear strong makes you weak.”
He asked, “How so?”
“Grandmother said that faking weakness allows a person to lead their enemy in the direction they wish. Leave an area of territory apparently unguarded, so your enemies will attack there first. Pretend to have no skill with a sword. Play dead. Send your weakest fighter to lure your enemies into an ambush. That kind of thing. Weakness is a strategy.”
“She would have made a great yellow.”
My mother and grandmother both, though they’d been cunning and strong.
I was hit by the weirdness of speaking about the grandmother he’d killed. I didn’t draw my hands away from him, but I pulled back from thoughts of my family.
“There is merit in your idea to continue rituals in these dreams. That’s a theory to explore.”
Had Tempest started her attack? Time may work differently in this dream.
“How would we explore that?” I asked the first question that popped into my head.
“I haven’t thought about it.”
“Well, what other times have you hurt me with your magic?”
Carmine’s jaw clenched. “This is unwise, Syera. Let us keep these dreams intact.”