4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
“ A sheros Larmanne? I must not have heard that right,” I say, my voice rising in volume more and more with each word. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“I assure you, Lady Wynterliff,” the voice behind me says, with a casually cool sort of quality. “This is not an attempt at humor.”
I whirl around, my eyes throwing daggers at my target once my focus lands on him.
Gods be damned, they’re not poking fun. Standing before me, dressed in a gray-blue dress coat, unbuttoned to reveal a billowy white shirt underneath, is the one and only heir-apparent to the Silver Court.
Asheros Larmanne.
White-blond hair falls over his forehead in silky waves that end just above his cheekbones, framing his long, regal face. The pale, crystal blue of his eyes is striking against his warm, sun-kissed skin tone, making them seem lighter than they truly are. His jaw is mostly clean shaven, though shadowed with stubble. And his mouth—straight and serious, as though he’s waiting for me to make my next move, before he says anything.
I take a step forward. “I can have you arrested for treason.”
Asheros doesn’t flinch, his posture relaxed, and though I’m not short for a female by any means, he’s still a head taller than me. So much so, that he cranes his neck down to look at me.
We’re so close that if I leaned forward on the tips of my toes our noses might touch.
“Kidnapping a diplomat acting on behalf of the High King isn’t a smart move, my lord .” Bitterness bleeds through my words. “Never mind killing esteemed members of the High King’s Guard.”
Feet shuffle behind me.
Asheros merely holds up his palm, and the shuffling stops. Doing nothing to widen the distance between us, he slides that crystal-blue stare to mine. “I’m aware.”
“Why do any of this?” I frown, my mouth curling with anger. “You’re—You were loyal to Viridian. To your High King .”
Asheros and his father—Lord Eldred, the current Head of House Larmanne and ruler of the Silver Court—serve on the High King’s council, with Myrdin and his father, Tanyl, as well as the other Heads of House and heir-apparents representing the five Courts of Inatia. Myrdin and Tanyl represent House Tarrantree and the Copper Court; Lady Maelyrra and her son, Nisroth, House Pelleveron and the Gold Court; my mother, and my sister, Vestella, House Wynterliff and the Steel Court; and though they’re High King and Queen, Viridian and Cryssa represent House Avanos and the Bronze Court.
Asheros, of all people, should know how important this diplomatic mission is—he was there when Viridian and Cryssa discussed it with the council, no doubt. I can’t wrap my mind around why he’d kidnap me. When now, more than ever, Viridian and Cryssa need to be represented in each of the five Courts. Asheros knows that. Hell, he’s probably supposed be in Greyhelm—the capital of the Silver Court, and his home city—on their behalf, too.
I clench my jaw.
Vorr’s curse was brought upon him by an unnamed sorceress after he took something that wasn’t his to take. The curse affected humans more so than the fae, and when the ruling class failed to alleviate their suffering, tensions amidst the Courts’ human communities escalated. Now that the curse is broken, and Viridian and Cryssa sit on the throne, things have begun to change. Still, noble fae are hesitant to accept the changes that come with Cryssa and Viridian’s rule. And though the crown is trying to bridge the gap between noble fae and humans, that change is slow moving.
Humans are distrustful of the noble fae reigning over them, and those fae look down at the humans in their care. Already, noble fae have voiced their dissatisfaction with Viridian’s view of humans and their place in society. My role as a diplomat is meant to ease these adjustments, to show the humans in the Steel Court that the crown does hear and care about them. And, though Viridian has never voiced this aloud, I know my position there is meant to keep the noble fae in line.
I gave up my title as Captain of the High King’s Guard for this.
Now, by kidnapping me, Asheros stands in my way. I don’t know him well. Our only interactions were polite small talk in passing when he and his father came to High Keep for council meetings. Any respect I’d had for him up until now is gone. Shriveled up and withered away like dust.
Crossing my arms, I move about a pace backward. “Well?”
Asheros says nothing, merely pressing his lips together into a fine line.
Seamlessly, the males standing at my back move around me, breaking from each other’s sides like the splitting of a stream, and take their place beside Asheros. They eye me warily, hanging onto each of my movements, as if they’re waiting for me to do something rash.
With my patience growing thinner by the minute, I ask, “You’re truly not going to answer me?”
His jaw ticks, and his eyes fall to the ground.
I spit at his feet. “I despise you.”
The male to his left with the swirling tattoos covering the length of his arms lurches forward, his hands clenched into fists by his sides.
I stare him down, silently daring him to take a swing at me.
But Asheros merely holds his arm out in front of him, not once taking his eyes off me. “Stand down, Ronan.”
To his left, the male, Ronan, grits his teeth, but obeys.
Looking at me, Asheros raises the crown of his head and lowers his arm. “I don’t care what you think of me.”
“Perhaps you should.” Holding my ground, I don’t shy from his gaze. “I’m not someone to make your enemy.”
He cocks his head, the corner of his lip perked up into something between a sneer and a smirk. “I’ll take that risk.” He gestures to my hips. “You’re not so formidable without your singing blades, Captain.”
Fury boils my blood. “You pompous, haughty—”
“Easy there, Bladesinger,” Asheros says, with a full-on smirk. His amusement sparks a fire inside me. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” I don’t have time to respond to his nickname for me before he flicks two fingers in my direction. “Restrain her. ”
Before I can move away, Ronan and the chestnut-haired male take hold of my upper arms. Their grip on me is iron-tight, and I feel my cheeks flush red. Just before they can drag me back to the camp, heat vibrates in my chest, sending jitters rippling across my skin.
Eyes wide, I look to my arms, where a warm, orange glow glimmers around me. Steadily, it grows in strength, until it’s so bright, I look like a burning star.
Dread sinks to the bottom of my stomach.
I let out a forced exhale. “You have got to be joking.”
The males gripping my upper arms freeze, their faces going pale at the sight of me. They look at each other first, and then turn back to their master.
I swallow the lump in my throat and look over my shoulder, following their line of sight. The same burning light that surrounds me shines from within Asheros, as if he and I are made from the same kind of celestial matter. He holds his palms out in front of him, eyes cast down at them. The hardness of his jaw and flexed muscles tells me he doesn’t like what he sees.
Well, that makes two of us.
The matching orange glow surrounding Asheros and I can only mean one thing: Theelia, the Goddess of Fate, has blessed us. Marked us as fated. This is her way of telling us that our fates are bound, and our relationship with each other will fall into one of two categories: lovers, or killers.
The unavoidable truth pierces me like a blade through my chest.
Asheros Larmanne will be my mate, or my murderer.
That is, if I don’t kill him first.
“This doesn’t make sense,” I mutter, forcing myself to look away from him. “Why now?” Why didn’t Theelia make her will known before? Why mark us as fated at all? What greater purpose could our bond serve?
A long, heavy silence hangs between us. Even the forest itself seems to go still in the wake of the goddess’s message.
More than anything, I wish I hadn’t taken Viridian’s gods-damned diplomat position. I should have remained at High Keep, acting as Captain of the High King’s Guard. Maybe then, the guards I took with me through Nemos’s Pass would still be breathing, and this, being fated to the very male to blame for their deaths, would never have happened.
Asheros inhales, leveling his tone. “It would appear that you and I are fated, Bladesinger.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Careful, now,” he says, a coy smile playing at his mouth. “I might be the last thing you see before you take your final breath.”
I glower at him, tensing my muscles. The males restraining me adjust their stances, stopping me from going straight for Asheros’s throat.
“Savell,” Asheros says to the chestnut-haired male, “return her to my tent and see to it that she stays there. ”
So, it was his tent I woke up in earlier. The thought turns my stomach.
Savell dips his head to Asheros, and then I allow him and Ronan to haul me back to the camp. It’s fruitless to make demands, especially now that they know it’s highly probable that I’ll be the one responsible for their lord’s death. Instead, I make it my mission to cause their task to be as troublesome as possible, kicking and wriggling the whole way. Much to my satisfaction, the males on either side of me wince with annoyance while they try to wrangle my flailing limbs.
“This one’s more trouble than she’s worth,” Ronan grunts. “I can already tell.”
“You flatter me,” I retort, without relaxing my efforts to make their lives difficult.
Ronan just grumbles under his breath, and he and Savell throw me back into Asheros’s tent.
“Do us all a favor, and stay there,” Savell demands.
“Funny that you think I’ll be doing you any favors,” I counter.
Neither of them says anything, opting instead to let the tent flap fall.
I drop to my stomach, eyes peeled on the barely existent gap between the tent and the ground. Sure enough, I see a pair of feet at the front of the tent. I rise to a crouch and make my way to the back of the tent, lifting it just high enough to see the ground outside.
I curse .
They have this side under guard, too.
“Nice try.” Ronan laughs. “You’re staying here as long as Asheros says you are.”
My nostrils flare.
Like hell I am.
My body goes still at the sound of more footsteps outside the tent. I crawl back to the front and slow my breathing so I can listen.
“Theelia blessed the two of ya?” a gruff-sounding female voice asks.
A sigh. “Yes,” Asheros admits.
“Keeping her alive is risky,” a male says, his tone matter-of-fact. Savell.
“Extremely risky,” Ronan adds.
“We already run the risk of her running back to Keuron and telling the High King who we are,” another female voice says. This one is smoother than the first. “But now, she has the potential to be even more of a threat.” A pause. “It’s not too late to stop this. There has to be another way we can—”
“No,” Asheros says firmly. “Now that we have her, we need her alive. If any of you touch a single hair on her head, you will answer to me. Have I made myself clear?”
A chorus of grunts and grumbles echoes in response. They agree, but they don’t sound very happy about it.
Pushing myself back onto my rear, I move as far away from the tent’s flap as I can. I can’t—or rather, don’t want to—believe what I just heard. Asheros needs me alive for something . And I know that whatever that something is, it can’t be good.
Being fated to each other only complicates things.
My heart starts pounding when I realize that I don’t know how long it’s been since the ambush. I should be farther along on my journey to Illnamoor by now. I should have already sent a status report back to Viridian. He and Cryssa will be wondering what’s happened to me.
The political situation after Cryssa and Viridian’s rise to power is already delicate enough—it always is when a new leader takes the throne, but even more so in the wake of Vorr’s curse. The last thing we need is for more tension to arise when the rest of the kingdom learns I’ve gone missing.
Viridian trusted me to act on his behalf. I wrap my arms around my knees, pulling them to my chest, and rest my chin on my forearms. Guilt surges through me, winding itself into a knot in the pit of my stomach.
Remembering how hard he worked to convince me to accept the position, I press my lips together. A role in politics has never been something I wanted for myself, and it’s not an area I’m particularly strong in. As the second-born, I’ve always known I’ll never become Head of House, like my sister Vestella when our mother dies. Because of that, politics was never something I needed to concern myself with, let alone want.
“If you accept this assignment, then you will be solely responsible for choosing your successor. And we will appoint them without question. Deal?”
True to his word, Viridian had kept his end of the bargain. He’d let me choose my successor, Sura, and I remained at High Keep until she’d officially taken my place. Now, it’s time I follow through on my end. My High King—my friend —needs me.
At the very least, I have to try.
Whether I want it or not, I have a job to do. And I’ll be damned if I let Asheros Larmanne stop me from doing it.
Even if it means I have to kill him to get it done.