Chapter 2 #2
“Why’d you leave your castle?” he counters, tone sharp enough to slice. The message is clear: fuck off.
At least they render tribute to Hanovel, the Capital. It helps a little.
They rarely leave their village, needing the community to thrive and settle. Seeing one ALONE so far away from their borders is unseemly.
Is he an outcast?
Rude, he jokes, reminding me he is still in my head.
“Let’s renegotiate,” I say, lifting my chin and offering him my best ‘I’m superior’ kind of smile. He won’t settle for coins while having access to my power.
“No.”
“What do you mean by ‘no’?!” I snap, losing my goddamn patience.
This male manages to infuriate me like no one else, and it has only been a matter of hours since we met.
I hear the echoes of the tambourines again. They’re drawing closer.
“You should know what no means.” He smirks, brows snapping together. “Or are you too privileged to have ever been refused?”
I ignore the insult, silently acknowledging the truth it contains.
“So what’s the plan?”
His lips curve on one side. “We can celebrate the night.”
I will make it good for you. He adds the last part in my head, lacing his tone with seduction. It goes straight to my pussy, my heart pounding. Am I approaching my mating cycle, or am I that pathetic?
“Are you invoking the bargain?” I ask, wondering if it is dread or anticipation settling in my stomach.
“If you are into that kind of thing.” He winks, effortlessly pulling off the cliché move. I plan to entertain all of your indecent fantasies, he adds in my mind.
“Is that Simon why you left my court a day before Samira’s mating ceremony?” A new voice joins us by the fire, ending the barter. “To fool around with a mongrel?”
Jestin and his terrible timing. Of course, he appears the moment I look the worst.
I knew that shallow hole in sand was nothing but an open invitation, making it far too easy for Jestin and his warriors to sneak up on us.
Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have noticed a Hermitage anyway, especially if they’d wanted to remain unseen.
I twist on the sandy ground to face the newcomers, my hands brushing the grains for balance.
The lord of Santorili wears an elegant royal blue coat, accentuating his equally perfect form. He is surrounded by his special army of Hermitage Warriors, who are barely visible in the dark, even when he has already announced their presence.
“Jestin,” I say dryly. It’s as much of a greeting as I can muster at this moment.
He studies the Simon before speaking, eyes raking over him like a verdict of disapproval. “Be warned, she’s not the stay-for-breakfast type.”
Shame burns my cheeks like a stove.
I haven’t seen him since I ran, since that night when I almost said: ‘I want only you.’
Sex with Jestin was like coming home after a decades-long war, but I don’t have a home anymore.
No wonder I fled... Those kinds of feelings can leave a female confused.
“With you, maybe. I have enough in my…” Aidon offers me a cocky grin before continuing, “pants… to keep the girl’s head occupied at least till supper.”
I burst out laughing, and Aidon winks again.
I’m impressed. Most Fae would be on their knees with an army of Hermitage Warriors aimed at them. Iron surrounds us, yet he makes fun of the lord.
“You don’t look the part,” Jestin assesses him from top to bottom with a cruel condescension.
Aidon shrugs, unmoved.
“What can I say? I am far more entertaining, Sunny Boy.”
A chuckle escapes my lips before I can stop myself.
“I don’t think the lady agrees.”
Jestin steps closer to the fire, the light catching in his messy sandy-brown hair, glinting over sharp features and lips so full and tempting it should be a crime. Ink curls down his neck, and silver gleams at his ears. He’s a fucking vision. He always has been.
While I am fighting to regain my dignity, Aidon leads a staring battle with Jestin.
It feels like an eternity before the Simon’s face changes into a cruel smirk, and Jestin raises an eyebrow, daring Aidon to do something. To do what?
Gods only know.
“Oh wow, you two have quite the history,” Aidon finally breaks the tense silence. The mockery in his voice is effortless, but the scarlet in his eyes is telling a different story.
“Hard to compete?” Jestin retorts, mirroring his energy.
Aidon offers him the sweetest of smiles.
I whine mentally. What the fuck is happening here?
Now it’s too late to avoid confrontation, months of hard work be damned. Is the God of Chaos playing with my destiny today?
Jestin is the definition of a good male, wrapped in a delicious package of lean muscle and a coat of authority. I have committed unforgivable sins against him and his family. And after what happened, he still stood with me.
At least he used to.
“Let’s move, we have plenty to discuss,” Jestin adjusts his cufflinks, then dips his chin at me.
I know I have no choice. I do everything I can to avoid his gaze without appearing weak, yet I still feel the weight of his meticulous scrutiny. I want to shrink, but I force my posture to remain regal, letting the judgment slide over me.
The last two years were good practice.
I let him inspect me, consciously aware that I look like shit. My long, indigo locks are messy and gross. Good thing I have a refreshment potion in my satchel.
Thankfully, after a few heartbeats without a word from me, he nods and gestures towards sand rides.
Teleporters are rare, and the magically powered inventions are among the most convenient means of travel in Rhodria.
Unfortunately, they require two things: sand magicians and sand beneath them, making them exclusive to Jestin’s lands.
“I bet we do,” I murmur begrudgingly, then the familiar guilt resurfaces.
I try to stand, but the sand shifts under my feet, adding yet another thing to my long list of embarrassments.
Aidon reaches to grab me, but Jestin waves his hand and the sand rushes, coating my legs, stabilising me. It lingers a little longer before caressing my bare skin and dissolving into the ground.
Don’t read too much into it, you stupid cow.
“Show off,” Aidon murmurs glaring at Jestin, whose expression is as sombre as the Simon’s.
What’s with the tension? Is it a case of natural enemies?
I bend to lift my satchel, letting my eyes linger on Aidon. He’s rescued it from the Arametis vines—mental thanks awarded, though he doesn’t look like he cares.
“What the fuck is that?” Jestin barks, and I whip my head in his direction.
His glare is fixed on my left hand.
I can literally feel the blood draining from my face.
“That, dear lord, is a bargain mark,” Aidon smirks like he’s proud of himself.
“Have you fucking tricked her?” He barks, the only evidence of Jestin’s growing rage in his stormy eyes.
“I—Take him!” He orders. Without hesitation, the Hermitage Warriors advance on the Simon.
Aidon keeps smirking, as if antagonising the sand wielder was a good idea.
“You don’t want to do that unless you want me to tell our darling what she isn’t aware of... Yet.” He turns to me. “Would you like to be let in on some secrets?”
Jestin shakes his head, dropping the topic. “Let’s fucking go.” Whatever he’s hiding must be ugly if he lets the Simon get away with it so easily.
Fucking hell.
“Why should I go with you?” I tilt my chin in defiance, just to spite him. I know I’m going. What else am I supposed to do?
Jestin narrows his eyes at me. “What? Do you prefer to stay here without provisions? Knowing how your portals work? Be my fucking guest.” He signals his hands in the direction of travel.
“Or let me escort you to the palace.” His face twists into pure hatred as his gaze flicks to the Simon. “You and your bond-master.”
I puff out a breath and head in that direction.
He’s so bitter, Aidon chuckles in my head.
I glance at the stranger, who bound me with a Fae bargain, and shake my head, knowing my family turns in their graves seeing this dishonour.
If they even have graves. I haven’t even bothered to check