C H A P T E R S I X
C H A P T E R S I X
Altair
“I think tomorrow’s going to be entertaining.”
Iolas tells me when he swaps shifts around midnight. When he can’t protect her himself, I have two guards take his place outside Olwyn’s room.
I grunt in response. Underneath my gruff exterior, there’s a simmering pressure that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I can’t shake the image of her face when I brushed the dagger over her skin—her eyes widening, a flicker of raw emotion breaking through her otherwise guarded demeanour. I had intended to test her, to see how far her bravery would stretch, but the intensity of her reaction had cut through me in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
“Come on, don’t be sore, Al. Your hand is surely sore enough.” The bastard laughs, glancing at my hand—the very one Olwyn had stabbed. I lift it up, flexing my fingers as if to test the tendons. No evidence of her blade remains, but there’s a phantom ache, a lingering sensation where the metal had bitten into my flesh.
My brave wife.
“She’s grown bolder under your training,” I mutter, not bothering to hide the admiration in my tone.
Iolas snorts. “She was always bold. Or have you forgotten that you found her, wed her, and left her all in the same night? Didn't take her for a timid flower then, did you?”
I glare at him, my patience thinning. “Like I had a choice to leave her.”
Iolas shrugs, but there’s a hint of understanding in his eyes. “I know, I know. I swear Casius always has perfect timing for ruining your moods, doesn’t he?”
I grumble under my breath, unwilling to admit just how much truth there is in his words. Casius had started a skirmish to the east, in the human lands. I felt bad for the innocents that had been slaughtered in the countless battles over those months, but the vampire was nothing if not unhinged. I shake my head of the memories. “What have you been teaching her in hand-to-hand combat?”
Iolas’s expression shifts, becoming more serious. “The basics, to start. She was hesitant at first, but she learns quickly. I’ve taught her how to throw a punch properly, how to keep her balance. She’s not as strong as a vampire, obviously, but she makes up for it with speed and agility. She’s got an instinct for it, too—knows when to dodge, when to strike.”
“Small knives?” I ask, my curiosity piqued despite myself.
“She’s good with them,” Iolas admits, and there’s a hint of pride in his tone. “Really good. Better than I expected. Her aim is decent, and she has a knack for using her surroundings to her advantage. I’ve been teaching her how to throw them accurately and how to use them in close quarters. She’s still hesitant when it comes to aiming for vital spots, though. Needs more confidence in her strikes.”
I nod, absorbing this information. “Any flicker of magic?”
His smile fades. “No.”
I exhale, my frustration growing. It’s more than just the absence of magic; it’s the potential that’s slipping through our fingers. She has the power, I know it. But she’s holding it back. Whether it’s fear, ignorance, or something else, her reluctance to let it surface could be our undoing. I glance at the floor, wrestling with conflicting emotions. I’m unsure whether her lack of control is a blessing or a curse.
The truth is, I married her for more than just the political advantage, though that’s what I tell my lord and ladies. I needed something more— control over her training. I had no other choice. It wasn’t just about binding her to me with the vows; it was about binding her to the purpose she doesn’t know about. She can’t be left unchecked. If she can’t learn how to control her powers—how to use them without hurting herself or anyone else—then she’s just a ticking time bomb. And as much as she resents it, I can’t let that happen.
Her abilities are dangerous. She doesn’t understand the risks yet, but I need her to be able to protect herself, to face the enemies who might come for her, or worse, come for me through her. But most importantly, I need her to control those powers before they consume her—or worse, those around her. That’s why I married her, whether she believes it or not. I need to be the one to guide her, to make sure she doesn’t break before she becomes what she’s meant to be.
“And what does she need to improve?” I ask.
Iolas leans against the wall, crossing his arms. “She’s holding back. Afraid to fully commit to a move. It’s like she’s scared of what’ll happen if she does. She needs to learn to trust her instincts more, to take risks. Right now, she’s predictable, too cautious. She needs to learn to be more… spontaneous.”
“Spontaneous?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Iolas smirks. “You know, less thinking, more doing. She’s too busy second-guessing herself. She needs to surprise her opponent, catch them off-guard. Right now, it’s too easy to see what she’s going to do next.”
I consider his words. “I will test her myself tomorrow. See if she can handle being pushed out of her comfort zone.”
Iolas grins. “Oh, I’d pay to see that. But she might just surprise you.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. “She already has,” I admit, thinking back to the sting of her dagger and the fierce look in her eyes as she faced me. “I think I’ll enjoy testing her limits.”
Iolas chuckles. “I have no doubt about that.”
My mind drifts to the way she looked tonight—more radiant, more self-assured, and yet… there’s a fragility there that makes my chest tighten, like a string pulled taut. I noticed the slight hesitation in her step when I gestured to the seat beside me, the flicker of uncertainty in her gaze before she quickly looked away. But she belongs at my side, not at a distance. I need to make her see that.
“I’ve noticed,” I begin, my voice more subdued. “How close you’ve grown to her.”
Iolas’s gaze flickers, and he grins with a hint of his usual mischievousness. “Oh, come on, Al. She’s something else, isn’t she? She’s been through the wringer and still manages to give me that fierce look every day. It’s hard not to get a little attached. But hey, if I start writing poetry about her, you’ll know I’m in trouble.”
I study him, noting the way he tries to downplay his feelings. “Just don’t get too wrapped up in it, Iolas. We both know how complicated these attachments can be. Especially with someone in her position. I just don’t want you to be caught off guard. Emotions can cloud judgement, and we can’t afford that.”
Iolas gives a mock salute, his tone playful. “Noted. I’ll keep my emotions on a short leash.”
But perhaps I’m too late in saying this.
The truth is, there are dangers to these connections that go beyond just the personal. Vampires —we live for centuries. Time doesn’t affect us the way it does humans. We can lose ourselves in relationships with mortals, fall in love with them, even grow obsessed, but it’s all temporary. Their lives are fragile. A few decades, a century if they’re lucky. And when they die, we’re left with the aftermath. The grief. Knowing we’ll outlive them, again and again. It’s a constant ache for our kind, one that many of us try to avoid, consciously or not.
But what surprised me most was the affection Olwyn seems to have grown for Iolas. For a vampire . A soft smile here, a knowing glance there. He’s always been the more ‘human’ of my friends—the one who laughs easily, who delights in testing boundaries and pushing buttons. A game he’s been playing for far too long. He’s my oldest friend, besides Ailith, so he gets away with a lot. Plus, he’s loyal, and I can see he cares for her in his own way. That much is clear. And she cares for him.
My jaw clenches at the thought. And I realise it’s jealousy. The familiarity between them—it irks me. Not because I fear losing her to him, but because it’s a reminder of how little time I’ve spent with her. She’s grown accustomed to Iolas, while I’ve been nothing but a shadow in the background. I should be the one she confides in, the one she looks to for comfort. But I’m not.
I want her affection for myself. Not just her compliance or her presence in my court, but the warmth of her smiles, the ease of her laughter. I want to be the one who draws that light from her, who sees the softness in her eyes.
But all I can think about when she looks at me is: is she afraid of me? Does she hate me? I can’t blame her if she does. I’ve given her every reason to. I can see the guardedness in her every movement, the way she holds herself like she’s always ready to flee. I know she hates me for what I’ve done, and perhaps she should. But there’s something else in her eyes, something I can’t quite place. It’s not just fear—it’s curiosity, maybe even confusion.
Seeing it written in her expression across the table tonight, I felt a stir of something I hadn’t in months. I want more than just her to be safe; I want to understand her, to learn every nuance of her thoughts, her fears, her dreams.
Iolas's voice, light and teasing as always, had grated on my nerves more than usual today. And I know why. He’s getting closer to her, and I find myself wanting that. I find myself questioning whether I can drop the cold exterior to try and win her over.
It’s maddening how easy it always comes to him.
She does not see what I see—the way he provokes and teases, but always with a keen eye on her safety and well-being. He’s woven himself into her daily life, and I fear she might think he’s the one she should trust.
I want to be the one who earns her trust, even if it takes time. Even if it means showing her that she belongs here, with me. Not because of some prophecy, not because of some war, but because of something else entirely.
No matter how long it takes, I will earn it. I will earn her.