14. Regent
REGENT
Fucking poison of all things. I was careless. I let my guard down for only a moment, and we were ambushed. Stupid.
I barely cling to consciousness as I grit my teeth, welcoming the satisfying pain.
Esther’s voice fades in and out as thunder crackles around us, rain pelting as Reene gallops beneath us.
It comes in phases, in and out, as I focus on my magic to push out the thick, ink-like substance from my bloodstream.
“Come on, Regent, stay with me,” Esther’s voice echoes as I’m shifted to the side, falling over the horse and being caught by her. “Fuck me, why are you so heavy,” she gripes under my weight as I try to focus on placing one foot in front of the other.
The shadow of an abandoned cottage comes into view, fading in and out at the edges. She barges through the door, and I’m flung onto something soft. My insides squirm as I work quickly to heal my body, but it’s not working at my request.
I feel pressure on my arm and throat, and then my arm is on fire. I try to push away the pain, but I’m pinned into place as acid eats away at my flesh. The world starts to drift, but then I feel something far more important try to leave, and I reach for it.
“I’ll be back,” she whispers, and I cling to her wrist. She won’t come back. She’ll run. Why wouldn’t she? Her soft hand slips out of mine, and I groan as I try to get back up and chase after her, but my body defies my request.
I try to growl, to overpower the shit in my veins as I grow frustrated.
Sometimes help is good, a familiar voice beckons.
Greers and humans are not bad by nature.
They don’t mean to be easily influenced by my sister.
It’s why it’s important for you to keep the balance, Neina’s voice says wistfully, gentler than any whisper on the breeze, but strong in its presence as any god is.
I try to push her out, the memories and times spent together. A past I long ago abandoned.
Laughter echoes as the Fates beckon. She comes, one whispers. It is time. The other applauds. Meet us at the bottom of the sea, they say in unison.
My body trembles as I fight the gods who have cursed my existence since birth, and I try to reclaim my mind.
I grab onto something solid and hear the scraping of feet and a voice, “Regent.”
My eyes burst open, and I immediately release my hold around her thin neck. I scan the room, ready to fight the gods, ready to fight the assassin. But I only find Esther as she drops to the floor, clutching at her throat.
We’re in an abandoned cottage, the cold air ripping through the broken wood. The storm booms around us, pelting rain flooding a corner of the room, which has since grown moldy.
Reene and Grimace are also inside, sheltered and otherwise unharmed. A small hanging pot bubbles in the middle of the room with something that smells vile.
My attention then focuses back on Esther, who shoves herself off the floor, adjusting her throat and busily working as if I didn’t just try to choke her. A flood of remorse fills me. My mouth tastes of ash and grass, and I moisten my lips.
“Drink more of this,” she instructs as she hovers over me. I catch her hand holding the half-broken ceramic cup that spills a brown liquid over the side.
“What is this?” I croak with only a fraction of the power that often carries in my voice.
“If I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?” Her forest-green eyes challenge me. Red streaks her cheek, a small gash that’s since stopped bleeding. Her shirt is shredded down the front, and her red braid is matted and sticks to the side of her neck.
I awkwardly adjust myself to sit, my insides squirming with a strange, nauseating feeling. When I look down, I realize my leather coat and shirt have been removed. My gaze sweeps back up to hers.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you don’t have anything I’m interested in,” she says, repeating the same words I once said after pulling her out of Lake Mahoori.
I slowly take the cup out of her small hand and sniff. I can’t help but watch her as she stands, checking on the small flame and the concoction of fuck knows what she’s brewed. But when I take another sniff, I identify the separate ingredients.
I take a mouthful, grimacing. It’s foul, but I throw it back. If she’s learned how to make potions, especially ones to counter potent poisons that can knock even me on my ass, this little greer isn’t any ordinary runaway.
I’ve known that from the moment she was caught in my net. I’ve been in denial about it, pushing through until I can sell her off for my own gain, but it feels ironic now. That when she should’ve left me for dead, she remained.
She stirs the brew and then walks over to the bench, where she cuts an apple in half with one of the twin blades the assassin was carrying.
She walks over to Reene and Grimace, throwing them half each. It’s surprising to see my mare take a liking to her. I place the empty mug to the side, uncomfortable that my markings are out in the open, but considering the circumstances, I permit it.
I check in with my magic, barely a wisp of its original glory, but it will recoup in time. I clench my fist and release it. Well, at least I can still move it. This wouldn’t take long to heal, either, if it weren’t for the fucking poison slowing everything down.
“What’s your relationship with that assassin?
” I ask from the shadows, my voice gravelly and dry.
I don’t miss the way her next step slightly falters as she walks to the door and peers outside.
The night is still howling, the cold breeze sweeping through.
The climate doesn’t affect me, but I can see the goosebumps prickle along her skin.
Esther closes the door again and faces me, arms crossed over her chest. She slides down the door, bags under her eyes, face hollow. She’s exhausted, yet her eyes glow fierce in the dim light.
Her hands rest on her knees as she looks at me from across the room. “He’s my childhood friend. But whatever he was back there wasn’t him. He’s under some kind of enchantment or—”
“Has been ordered to kill you. Alliances to one’s kingdom are made all the time over personal relationships.”
“He’s not like that,” she quickly berates, defending the man who not only tried to kill me, but her as well.
Yet she defends him with such fierceness.
An uneasy irritation unfurls in my stomach.
It was only moments before we were attacked that I had her pressed against me, my cock hard, almost giving in to a temptation I know I shouldn’t touch.
It lives inside of me like a beast, on edge around her, pacing back and forth, ready to force her into submission. And I can’t fucking stand its potency.
Tonight, it almost got us killed.
I have teased, flirted, stolen from, and slept with many women, but none of them—whose names I can’t even remember—flicker even a flame against the part of her that rouses this beast within me. And that’s what makes her dangerous.
“Will you tell me who is hunting you and why?”
She cocks a cruel smile. “What does it matter to you? You’ll be done with me in a few weeks. You only care until it’s not your problem. Or you could save yourself the hassle and just leave me alone now.”
An uneasy and exhausted tension runs between us. That’s not an option.
“There’s something I need from the Volmere auctions, and the only way I can obtain it is by distraction. You will act as that distraction.”
She huffs out a haughty laugh. “And what makes you so sure that selling me will work?”
“Because you’re beautiful.” Her gaze snaps back to me, her eyebrows crinkling in confusion.
“Those who seek power are blinded by beautiful things. They presume the more polished the beast or blade, the sharper it will be. All you have to do is be there. I’ll create the rest of the distraction.
And then we’ll never see one another again. ”
She scoffs and stands back up, as if she’s not able to handle sitting in one place for too long. There are many questions I have about this little greer’s existence. But prying does me no good.
One thing, however, does irritate me. “Why didn’t you just leave me in that village?” She could’ve left me for dead. I would’ve survived, but it would have taken me a lot longer, though I would’ve hunted her down within days, anyway.
Even on her own, she will survive. She’s as tenacious as she is gifted.
She can hold herself in hand-to-hand combat, knows potions, is contracted to a foreign and seemingly pointless beast, and is cursed with something that grapples with her earth magic.
She will, no matter what, with or without my presence, survive.
“Because you saved me once,” she says as she wraps a cloth around her hand and removes the pot from where it’s boiling. “I might not like the fact that you plan on selling me. But I owe you that much.”
I come to stand, my body aching as each muscle stretches. “I didn’t think you would care for such semantics.” I stop behind her, but she seems unfazed as she searches through the various herbs and bottles on the decaying wooden bench.
I place my hand beside hers, encroaching on her space. I focus my acute hearing on her heartbeat, a steady rhythm falling over me as hers hastens. Safe. She is okay, and it fuels me with male pride as her heartbeat becomes erratic.
“Isn’t this little game what almost got you killed last time?” she asks, turning and facing me head-on with that defiant look, forcing my dick to twitch. This insubordination is what makes me want to force her into submission. Have her on her knees begging for my forgiveness.
“That didn’t almost kill me. It was barely a scratch.”
She smirks as she skims her feather-light fingers over my forearm, and then her sharp nails dig into the healing wound on my arm. A guttural noise escapes me, even when I try to hide it.
“Sounds like more than a scratch.” Her eyes betray her as they move to my chest and then dip to my stomach with sensual intrigue.
“As you can tell, I’m used to scratches.
” I lift my hand to her cheek, wiping over the smear of blood there.
The wound isn’t deep, but it’ll most likely leave a blemish.
Her face naturally melts into my hand, and I feel her magic prickle alongside my own, like a song and dance that is starting to understand its chant.
So, I pull my magic in, chastising it. “Did he do this to you?”
She removes my hand, slowly sliding it down her neck instead. “He didn’t mean to. It’s not like Blaze.”
“Don’t say his name in front of me,” I growl. My fingers daringly feather around her neck, reminding me of how delicate she still is. “I don’t want to hear the name of the man who tried to kill you, the man who you prevented me from burying six feet under.”
Her breath falters, but she pushes out, “If we encounter him again, please don’t hurt him.”
My hand tightens around her throat, an irritation growing as she pleads again for another man’s life. Especially one who so daringly attempted to kill her. But who am I to think I am any different? Didn’t I grab her by the throat only moments ago?
I soften my hand, following the heat of her fingers as they dance along the new scar on my arm, as if mesmerized by it. I can’t look or pull away as the tension between us pulls like a hungry beast. I’ve been starved all these years, I realize, as if only waiting for her.
I want to shove her away just as violently because of it, and yet I’m enchanted, unable to pull away, but resistant to leaning into this gravitational power.
“If he comes for your life again, I won’t hold back, Denva.” Her bottom lip drops, and I can’t help but trace it with my thumb. “Unless, of course, that was your plan all along. Maybe you coerced me in that barn, hoping that he took me out.”
It’s ridiculous. I know that because she wouldn’t have gone to this measure to find us safety. But it wouldn’t be the first time the greer and human alike have tricked me.
She scoffs and brings the knife in her hand to my throat. “If I wanted you dead. You’d already be dead.”
I smirk at her threat. “Not from lack of trying.” I press into her, my cock hard as the smell of her arousal flares my nostrils. The tip of her blade pinches against my skin. Her heart rate picking up, and the smell of her, fuck me, it fuels my hunger.
“I’m starting to think you like a blade to your throat,” she whispers, her gaze dipping. I lean into her, angling her defiant chin away and rubbing my nose against her throat, smelling her.
Fucking divine.
She smells of blood, battle, the mountains, and me.
Her throat bobbles as she says, “You called out for a woman while you dipped in and out of consciousness. Who is Katarina?”
The feeling of an icy avalanche brings me back to my senses, the name sobering whatever fixation I landed myself in with this little redheaded greer. I push myself away, adjusting my rock-hard cock. I cannot be led by my primal needs.
“Don’t ever ask me about that name again,” I grumble as I walk toward the door. Suddenly, this forced proximity is too much of a temptation to bed her. If I don’t leave now. I may never escape this enchantment.
“Then stop asking me questions about my past as well,” she says over my shoulder as I hover at the door.
“For once, we agree on something, Denva.” And then I walk into the pelting rain, hoping that the separation and fresh air will fix my fucked-up head, because obviously that poison was tainted with something else.
It had to be.