Chapter 14
After that cartload of shit, I bury myself in the campfire, letting the crackle of the logs pull me under.
I try to erect a wall between my conscious thoughts and the churning storm of emotions beneath, but my mind drifts anyway, tracing paths I’ve walked far too often over the last two years.
Paths I hoped I’d never have to walk again.
Fae cannot die of natural causes, yet when they grow weary of life, they may spend a night in Gorok’s temple. If his judgement is favourable, God grants them entrance to his gardens—a peace I longed for, prayed for, begged for.
I spent weeks in that temple. Nights bled into one another. Hope flickered, faltered, and died. And in the end, I was rejected.
Probably because I owe it to my family. After I ran. After I stole the throne and threw it away.
I constantly fight the need to lie down and let the world run without me.
I hate that even a tiny decision has to be a conscious battle between my wants and needs.
Even more so, because they begin to blur, confusing the fuck out of me.
And with Rhodria simmering with unrest; every indecision could cost lives.
I don’t want to admit to myself that I’ve always wanted to rule. Because I don’t deserve it. Not after all that’s happened. All I’ve done.
At least the brooding males have left me alone. Even ever-probing Aidon stays away from my thoughts. Or at least he resists commenting on them.
Yet honestly, I don’t know who broods: me or them.
Bane and Nulok are making supper; no one talks more than necessary. At least, if you don’t count the meaningful glances they exchange. Aidon’s probably opened a private channel for them to gossip about me
“Seleste?” Bane’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Designated mediator?” I ask dryly.
“Hardly. Care for a plate?” Bane offers me some soup. The earthy aroma of mushrooms curls into my senses, making my stomach growl. I take the bowl and scoop a spoonful immediately, letting the rich, savoury flavour coat my tongue.
I look him up. His brow rises with silent questions.
Fine, let’s see what you’ve got.
I nod and he lowers himself onto my bedroll.
I brace myself for digging into the fresh wound, but he asks. “How was the message?”
A rush of gratitude wells up, warm and unstoppable, pressing against my chest until I have to speak.
“Strange,” I say, unable to hold it in, the experience burning through me. “Overwhelming, beautiful… I felt the whole forest.”
“It’s your first real step as the High Queen. I am proud of you.” Bane’s voice is as gentle as his subtle smile. With the wings, he looks like a guardian of Gorok’s garden; celestial, pure, kind.
“It meant more to me than I thought it would,” I say, through a clogged throat.
“Have they replied?”
“No, they were assessing. I could feel them observing me, judging me. I tried to do my best.” The last sentence comes out softer than I intended.
“You did.” Bane touches my shoulder. “I get why you ran away. I lost my family too. I drank myself to sleep most days, fucked everything with a pulse. I still flinch when I remember some of them. The elders almost banished me from the village.” He looks at his General, who is listening from his bedroll.
“Riven dragged me to the outpost by my wings. He saved my life.” The gentleness in his voice breaks my heart.
I squeeze his hand, and he returns the gesture.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” I hate those words, but nothing else seems appropriate.
“I am sorry for yours,” he replies, and despite my struggle to contain it, one treacherous tear escapes my eye. He sees it and offers me the tiniest of smiles.
“It gets better, I promise.”
I nod. I believe him.
“Time has a quality, no other magic has.” He studies me before saying, “And friends”.
I understand what he insinuates, but is he right? Do I have friends? I don’t dare to let myself accept that possibility. Being wrong, when I let myself count on it to be true, will rip my heart out. I won’t lose another loved one. I am too weak to survive it.
“You will accept it with time,” he says, as if he could read my mind like Aidon.
In reply, I keep holding his hand and we stay like that for a while.
The night is filled with stories about our lost families. Before I blink, I find myself opening up about some parts of my past. I shut down after they… passed.
Whenever I bring them up, a conviction that I disrespect them sinks deeper into my soul. But I speak anyway, the lid on the memories is ripped off, and I don’t shut my mouth for a while.
I feel I have no claim to the memory of my family, but Bane’s presence helps me fight the guilt.
Bane is just as open. He speaks of his loving mother and brothers who could never be serious. He tells about the war and what came next. How Riven took him under his wing. He shared a story of his brother Lane, who brought a whore to the barracks and paid her to say he impregnated her while drunk.
“What? How long did you believe her?” I laugh, my cheeks hurting.
“Weeks,” he replies, distant yet soft, lost in the memory.
Nulok comes to the campfire, asking the question: “Do you love the moment when you’re taking a shit and there’s no more paper and you need to call for a friend and they always answer?”
“Yes! The only time no one will leave you hanging!” Bane roars with laughter.
Jestin, who is sitting on my left, is not as close as he would be if we didn’t fight, but close enough that he’s able to nudge me with his shoulder. “You should tell the story about the incubus.”
I jerk my head left. “If you try to talk about it, I will cut your tongue and eat it for supper.” The laughter in my voice softens the threat.
He sees the olive branch for what it truly is, nodding as a few sandy-brown strands fall across his forehead.
“It was your first. Don’t you think it deserves a tale?” A playful smirk tugs at his lips.
I pinch the traitor’s arm. “How dare you?”
“If you don’t tell, I will,” Aidon chimes in from his spot beside Riven.
I squint. “What about you? Care to share a story?”
“No way. I’m not entertaining you.” Aidon’s voice is calm, but the steel beneath it is unmistakable, his eyes sharp enough to cut through any argument.
“Please?” I plead. I know nothing about him; it doesn’t seem fair.
“Don’t you want our Lady to be happy?” Riven asks, grabbing Aidon by the arm. The sheer determination in his moon-kissed orbs makes me shiver.
I definitely want that Dragthrall harem.
Please. I want to know you, I whisper on our private channel.
“I suppose one story won’t hurt.” Aidon shrugs the hand off his shoulder, meeting the General’s gaze, who in turn holds his stare without yielding.
Nulok reaches to offer him mead, the other hand gripping the message orb.
I almost regret that we don’t have any Fae wine. It was a ‘silent’ condition—no wine on the journey. I’ve never felt so humiliated as when Riven stopped me from packing bottles. He studied me with an intensity that made me shrink back, reminding me that I wasn’t allowed to lean on my old crutch.
“We’ll drink after the journey,” he said, and I couldn’t say a damn thing, because arguing would only prove how dependent I’d become on that rush.
“Instead of my boring story, I think we’d all rather hear about that time you tried to send us to the Fool’s Festival.” Aidon’s voice tugs me back to the present.
“Did she now?” Riven’s dense black brow arches, doing wicked things to my lower stomach, especially when his wings twitch at the same time.
I wonder how they work in bed.
Aidon’s wicked grin is the only indication he overheard that thought.
“Oh, she definitely did. Look at the blush on her already rose skin,” Jestin chimes in, sipping the mead, a half smile dances on his lips.
“I can project some of her colourful insults for you.” Aidon offers.
Riven and Jestin exchange looks.
“No doubt in my mind it was creative, but tell me, have you seen anything naughtier?” Jestin answers in a conspiratorial tone, “I would pay handsomely for it.”
“I am not going to entertain you,” Aidon says, clearly insulted.
“A real Fae would find out for himself.” Riven’s silver orbs drill into mine, as if he’s promising he’ll uncover the truth.
My answering smile is nothing if not an invitation.
“I’m hungry for her. You would be too if you had a taste.” Jestin goads Riven, throwing the fact that I’ve been in his bed in his face.
Riven only smiles, all teeth and danger.
“Ouch, that was low,” Aidon giggles.
Wow. What am I hearing?
Aidon glances back, his smile crooked and full of mischief. “Would you like me to show them what you were thinking about them, little minx? Would it turn you on?”
My jaw drops to the floor, dries out and turns to fucking dust. And I know I can tell it without cursing. But it wasn’t dust, it was fucking dust.
That’s how shocked I am.
“For all the big talk, My Lady, you are rather shy,” Riven says, his attention locked on me, unrelenting.
My toes curl.
“Oh, she isn’t. She is tied up a little, thrown off guard, nothing permanent.” Aidon psychoanalyses me for them.
He is right. “I would prefer to show them myself, instead of you taking the fun out of it.” My smile is all fake bravura.
“That’s what I was talking about,” smirks Aidon with something terribly resembling pride.
Riven and Jestin exchange glances, then Jestin turns to me with a smirk, cracking his neck like he’s warming up for a game he knows he’ll win. “Very well. I’ll play.”
“Of course you will,” I say under my breath. “You are created to tempt me, and from the court gossip, it is the Navatian way. I heard once your dad was panting after my Grandma, before your mom, you know.” I blurt out words, expecting him to laugh, but he doesn’t smile.
I stiffen. I shouldn’t have said that. It is not my right. I can’t talk like that. I lost the right.
Before I hyperventilate, Aidon comments. “That’s indeed hilarious.” He shoots Jestin a glare. “Two star-crossed lovers. I wonder if it’s a genetic trait.”