Chapter Thirteen #3
Before I can respond, the damn fae vanishes in a tight swirl of raging water. Of course the royal family of Sol would be given the water innate. Their entire country is a desert.
Ryc chuckles.
And I turn my less than enthused glare to him.
“I’m glad you can laugh,” I drawl and his chuckling grows into laughter.
“You have to admit,” he says, grinning. “It was a well-placed jab.”
“Yes,” I near snarl with sarcasm. “Utterly divine.”
Ryc laughs harder. “If you’re concerned about causing offense, know he found it amusing and unsurprising a demon would dare ask.”
“He mentioned tomorrow,” I say, choosing to move past the debacle. “What’s tomorrow?”
Ryc’s smile fades to a much softer version. “The council meeting, little love,” he answers.
Has a week passed already?
Dread settles into my bones.
Heaving a sigh, I rub at my brow. “Are we ready for it?” I ask.
“We’re as ready as we’re going to be,” he answers, pivoting to sit on the corner of the desk. He clasps his hands in his lap. “We have Rowen, Fenryn, Darin, and myself in support. I’ve offered Liran, but he hesitates.”
“Why?”
Ryc shrugs. “I’m unsure.”
That doesn’t help.
“We need Liran for majority,” Ryc continues. He glances at the desk before returning his eyes to me.
The desk is littered with letters, many still unopened. Likely questions and requests for appearances from the dozens of Olloran lords.
“But you didn’t come here to discuss tomorrow. Something else is on your mind,” he says. “Share it?”
“The crystal,” I reply and his eyes narrow.
“But you mentioned the Dark Hunt,” he counters.
“Yes,” I say, pulling myself to the edge of the seat. “I’m not going to find the information I need here. But there’s a chance it lies in the hells. If I can get a message to Ylara, she should be able to find it.”
Ryc shakes his head. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“If Vaelyn upholds demonic tradition, Indui’s Blessed will be invited to attend. I can send message to Ylara through Sabien—”
“Absolutely not.”
I pause at his firm tone.
“Did you not learn during your last encounter with a vampire?” he asks, arching a dark brow. “And now you want to ask a vampire king to help you?”
“I’ve a better chance of sending message through Sabien—through one of Indui’s Blessed—than I do finding necromantic texts in Eldoterra,” I argue and a muscle feathers in Ryc’s jaw.
“I’m familiar with Indui’s Blessed. But why him?” he asks, holding my stare. “Why not Aymer or Alavana?”
I should be surprised Ryc knows of the four ancient vampire lines. But I’m not. A country sharing a border with the Vugura Kingdom should be aware of the bloody court tucked in the northern mountains. The two he’s mentioned, they’re also Indui’s Blessed—the human ones.
“Sabien and I have history,” I answer, somewhat confused by his defensiveness. “I don’t know the others as I do Sabien.”
And while I don’t trust Sabien, he’s the only avenue I have in reaching Ylara right now. Of course I’m going to pursue it.
“History?” His eyes darken as he repeats the word.
Is this jealousy?
A wild spark of excitement sears down my spine, and I suppress a shudder under his intense eyes.
“If your concern lies rooted in jealousy, my light, it’s misplaced,” I say and he chuckles. “Our history is checkered. Sabien was rather taken by Kassil. Seeking separation and safety from the archdemon, I merely stepped out of the way during his visits.”
For the longest time, hellish celebrations were a reprieve. I knew, even if only for a few days, I’d be left alone.
Ryc’s stern stare softens. “It is not jealousy, little love,” he says. “But it is concern. Sabien and his mate Morgana share the proclivity of hunting mates. Turning them. To say they are not well received by the council is an understatement.”
Eons old vampires hunting mates to turn?
Why? It can’t serve anything other than spite.
“The Sovereign Queen of Erus cannot be associated with Sabien,” Ryc says, his tone firm.
“I am not Sovereign Queen,” I counter. “Not yet.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” Ryc deigns, heaving a sigh.
“And you are a fool if you think I’m going to let this opportunity slip past,” I quickly retort.
Silence stretches on between us.
“My other option is reaching Cerwiden,” I say, and his lips become a fine line. “I’ve neither visited nor have any trustworthy contacts in those lands. Ylara I trust.”
“And Sabien?”
I hesitate to answer.
“Sabien serves a purpose,” I finally say.
“I see,” he sighs. “I’ll send word.”
The half-prepared argument on my tongue dies as his words sink in. I sit frozen, staring at the handsome fae before me.
“What?” I manage to find my voice.
“I cannot promise the vampire court will agree to meeting, but I will send word requesting an audience,” he says with a sigh.
That’s it?
No further argument? No contention? No stipulations? No terms?
It’s too good to be true.
“I do have one request,” he says and I’m unable to keep the small smile from my face.
Ah, there it is.
There’s the expected exchange.
“If he agrees to meet, no bartering,” he says with a slow shake of his head. “Erus cannot and we will not be indebted to vampires.”
It’s not an unjust or unfair ask.
Meeting with vampire royalty is a danger to Ryc and his position within the council. He’s going to be meeting with a natural enemy of the living. The least I can do is refrain from making the meeting any more damning than it needs to be.
Pulling myself from my seat, I close the distance between us. Leaning close, I brush some of his hair aside, leaving a soft kiss upon his cheek.
“Of course,” I whisper. “And thank you.”
“Thank me when we’ve reached the other side,” he says, his voice low as his hands find my hips. “Once we’ve gotten through this.”
“You keep giving me what I want, you’re going to create a creature worse than a demon,” I reply and he laughs.
“Dare I ask what could be worse than a demon?”
“A spoiled fae,” I quip and he bursts into laughter.
His grip on my hip tightens as he leans back, reaching across the desk. Snagging the small, jeweled box Fenryn left, he straightens himself, holding it between us.
“I’ve kept this for a very long time. Always on my desk or with me during my travels,” Ryc says, his voice soft as he slowly turns the box in his hands.
Whatever it is, it’s a beautiful thing, encrusted with glittering emeralds. They scatter the early morning light coming through the windows. Cut to resemble ivy leaves, the silver snakes between each gem like vines.
“It became a reminder,” Ryc adds.
“A reminder?” My brows crease.
He smiles, lifting his eyes to mine. “To keep searching for you.”
Turning the box, he pries it open, revealing a silver ring nestled on a bed of black velvet. A gleaming, square faceted moonstone shines with hues of iridescent blue across its surface. Like the box itself, the silver band resembles twining vines.
Much like the veilflowers.
The air in my lungs evaporates.
A gift of silver.
“While this isn’t how I wanted to give this to you,” he says, the regret in his tone clear, “I hope you’ll accept it anyway.”
I stammer, trying to find the ability to form words. The idea of wearing what is essentially a visible brand causes my blood to sing. And I don’t know if it’s the foolish fae or the damn demonic part of me that finds wearing Ryc’s brand thrilling.
“Ryc, I don’t have a gift to return,” I finally manage to say.
He gives me a confused look. “You still haven’t read The Joining.”
I clamp my mouth shut and he laughs.
“Didn’t you promise Lilith you would by the end of the week?”
“I promised I would. I never promised when,” I retort and his laughter grows. “It’s no fault of mine Lilith has little experience in bartering with demons.”
“I would be concerned if she did,” Ryc laughs. He pulls the ring from the box and sets the box aside. “You’re not expected to have a gift right now. That is, unless you’d like to be married this instant.”
My wide-eyed, silent stare causes him to laugh again.
Taking my hand, he holds the ring over the end of my finger.
“Do you accept my gift, Vestaris Moonshadow?” he asks, his eyes never leaving mine.
The sound of my name upon his lips is enough to leave me drunk.
“The last time you gave me a gift, it came with your attention,” I say, my voice rather breathy as my heart pounds. “What comes with this one?”
Ryc smiles and gods, I forget how to breathe.
“My heart, little love,” he answers gently. “And all the years I have left in this realm. Until I find you again.”
I wasn’t expecting such an answer.
Not one so brutally beautiful.
My voice leaves me and head whirling, heart pounding, I nod.
He barely has time to place the ring on my finger before my hands are on his face, drawing his lips to mine. The taste of him too easy to drink.
He is mine and I am his.
Desirous heat shoots through me, a flame he stokes with little effort. My hands fly to his shirt, undoing the first three buttons with a fluid ease. His laughter breaks our kiss, and he nips playfully at my lower lip as he draws back.
“You’ll be made to spend the entire day in bed if you keep on,” he warns and the timbre of his tone tightens my stomach.
“We’re not going to?” Gods, I sound like I’m pouting.
He laughs again, kissing my cheek. “No, little love, we’re not.” He kisses the corner of my lips. “Today, we’re joining Ollora to celebrate the autumnal equinox.”
We’re going to venture into the city?
“Openly,” he adds with a smile.
Openly?
My jaw falls slightly agape as I realize what it is he means.
We’re going to enjoy today… as an engaged couple.
He’s presenting me to Ollora as its future Sovereign Queen.
Shit.