Chapter 12
Gareth
I’d checked my outfit twelve times. Twelve damn times. I don’t remember ever before being so concerned with what I was wearing, but then, I’ve never been in competition with other men for a woman’s heart. Not just any woman’s, but my soon-to-be-bride’s.
Stopping at her room, I take a deep breath, knowing full well that Sevrin will be there.
Like a dog, marking his fucking territory.
He’ll sleep wrapped around her, while the rest of us just have to lay on our cold beds without a beautiful woman to hold.
Still, I’d told Harper I’d give the Hollowborn a chance, so I’ll keep my word and give the motherfucker a chance.
Who says I can’t be flexible?
Knocking on the door, I wait a painfully long time, but no one answers. So, I open the door, only to find that Harper and the Hollowborn are already gone. Of course they’re already gone. I close the door and hurry down the hall, making a beeline for my father’s private dining room.
I hadn’t been surprised when my father invited all of us to dine with him tonight.
He was, after all, trying to do everything in his power to make this treaty work.
I just… I guess I hadn’t fully prepared myself yet to share space with the Hollowborn.
He felt like a problem for another day, except my father had made that day today.
Someone nearly runs into me from another hallway.
I step back, hand on the hilt on my sword, and see Lucien dressed in dark grey and a signature green shirt.
He says they make his eyes “pop,” and he’s not wrong.
His muscles are tight, and his eyes are far away until they land on me.
Then he smiles. Which is strange. My brothers and I have smiled more at each other since Harper came than our entire lives.
“Running late?” he asks.
“I didn’t think I was. Until I didn’t find Harper in her room.”
His grin widens. “Well, I try to be a little fashionably late. You want all eyes on you when you enter a room, afterall.”
I roll my eyes. “You sound like a woman.”
“What? Men can’t be proud to look good?”
“No,” I answer as I continue through the academy grounds.
Lucien matches my stride. “So, Alaric said you and Harper finally banged?”
I cast an irritated glance his way. “Can nothing be private with you two?”
“Not when Alaric and I are sporting hard-ons while waves of pleasure are washing over our bodies, and we know exactly where those feelings are coming from.”
“Waves of pleasure, huh?” I mutter.
I hope that means she enjoyed it.
“Look at you, you old so-and-so. You’re practically blushing!”
“Have I punched you lately?”
“Yes, actually,” he says, straightening his cuffs. “Now, what are we going to do about this Hollowborn? Cold shoulder him? Subtle insults just to remind him of his place?”
I turn to him, trying to find the words to explain what I want to say, when Alaric comes rushing up.
“We’re late,” he says, out of breath.
“Hardly,” Lucien responds, smirking.
I sigh. “Lucien just asked me how we should handle the Hollowborn…”
Alaric takes a few deep breaths. He’s wearing a black suit with hints of gold. “I guess things have changed a bit.” He seems to want to say more, but he doesn’t.
I decide the hell with it. “I gave Harper my word that I would try with the Hollowborn.”
“What?” Lucien looks baffled. “Why?”
To my surprise, Alaric sighs. “Because, things have changed.”
“How?” Lucien asks, and he’s looking for a fight.
I’m grateful when Alaric is the one to answer.
“We first decided that Harper would not be permitted to be a dragon rider. We failed in that endeavour, and I’m sure we’re all glad we did.
” Lucien doesn’t disagree, so he keeps going.
“Then, we hoped this peace agreement would fail. Except, in meeting the Hollowborn, and seeing the way he treats Harper, we have to agree that he seems sincere in his goal to create peace between our two people. And as much blood and death as the three of us have seen in this war, we all have to agree that putting an end to the bloodshed is what’s best for everyone. ”
Lucien’s mouth has dropped open, but he slams it shut. “And you two are already that confident that this Hollowborn isn’t just planning to betray us?”
I speak without thinking. “I’m not confident, but Harper is, and I trust her.”
“So do I,” Alaric adds.
Lucien combs his hand through his long blond hair, messing up the strands. “So, we’re just fine with this asshole banging our woman?”
“I don’t think we said that.”
He gestures with his hands, as if to say, “What then?”
“Progress won’t happen overnight,” Alaric explains quietly, “but we should go into this dinner like three men who want to make peace, not war. Do you really disagree with that?”
Lucien takes a long minute to respond. “I don’t want him touching Harper.”
“Agreed,” both of us say with ease, but Alaric continues, “but for the sake of our people, we need to give this peace thing a shot.”
Silence ticks by.
Lucien rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll give him, and this peace thing, a chance, but I’m not above punching him in his stupid Hollowborn face if he crosses me.”
That’s good enough for me.
The three of us walk to the castle, and to our father’s private dining room, together.
Guards open the doors, and inside we find father at the head of the table, the Hollowborn, with his ridiculous face paint, beside him, and Harper at the Hollowborn’s side.
On my father’s other side is Elder Thorne, glowering at the enemy across the table.
I move quickly, taking the seat on Harper’s other side, and my brothers sit in the seats across from us, giving me a look. They know what I did.
“We’re all here. The feast can begin,” our father remarks, and within seconds, servants begin setting out dishes.
We don’t have to say a word. Our plates are filled with foods of every kind before the servants drift back, disappearing into the shadows, leaving us to enjoy our meal in relative peace.
But I’m not focused on the food in front of me, not when Harper looks like a goddess before me.
Her long golden hair has been brushed to fall perfectly down her back, and she wears a pale green dress that looks as thin and delicate as paper.
She catches my gaze and gives me a smile.
I remind my heart to keep beating and try to focus on what I should. Like my enemy seated beside me.
Watching the Hollowborn, I notice that he studies each dish carefully before putting a little on his fork and sampling it.
I know he’s not checking for poison, since we all ate from the same dishes, but it takes me a minute to realize that he’s probably not seen a lot of the foods we eat.
This… this is a chance to get to know him better. To show Harper I can try.
“King Sevrin–” I begin.
“Sevrin,” he corrects. “We will be in a family unit with Harper tomorrow. You can address me informally.”
I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’m trying. Hard. “Sevrin, are our dishes unusual to you?”
Before he can answer, Elder Thorne jumps in, “All his people eat are slugs and other disgusting creatures.”
“Actually,” Sevrin corrects, “most of our food comes from the sea, since our lands aren’t very fertile, but we do have some plants and animals. Nothing like this though. You guys have so many colors and so many things I can’t even begin to identify.”
“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Harper says, giving him a smile.
He leans down and kisses her gently, and I resist the urge to kick his chair out from under him. “A lot of our meat is beef, from cows, and chicken, from, well, chickens.”
“Thank you, that’s helpful,” he says.
I give Harper a look, and she gives me one back. It’s a look that says she’s noticed I’m trying and appreciates it, and I feel like a kid in school, excited to be acknowledged.
“Is it strange to be surrounded by dragons when you’re used to your bone wyrms, Sevrin?” Elder Thorne asks, with a sneer.
“It’s King Sevrin to you,” the Hollowborn corrects softly, but there’s steel beneath his words.
Elder Thorne’s face turns red. “Of course, my apologies, King Sevrin.”
“It is wonderful to be surrounded by dragons,” he explains, taking a bite of his filet mignon, his eyes widening as he does so.
“But we thought your kind preferred to be surrounded by the dead.” Again, Elder Thorne’s words are aggressive, bordering on rude.
My father shoots him a look. “Not that there’s anything wrong with such a thing.”
Sevrin seems to consider his words with care.
“The Hollowborn have the unique ability to raise things from the dead. There is a limit to our abilities, however. If we choose to raise something as big as a dragon, it requires a lot of our magic. And it takes a lot of magic to keep the bone wyrm functioning. In that way, we have a bond, similar but different, to what the dragon riders have with their dragons. For smaller creatures, we can raise a whole army of them. But although we have the ability to raise the dead, it doesn’t mean we want to be surrounded by the dead.
We like life,” he glances at Harper, “and beauty. It’s just that our lands don’t provide much of either. So, we survive the best we can.”
“By insulting the gods by raising the dead,” Elder Thorne mutters.
Our father shoots him another look, but Sevrin answers, his tone respectful, “Both our people have tried using boats to cross between our continents, but nothing survives the creatures in the deepest of waters. We use boats for fishing close to the shoreline, as do your people, but both our kinds gave up on traveling long distances by boat a long time ago. Dragons, or bone wyrms, are the only way to travel… and Hollowborns cannot bond with dragons, so this is our only choice.”
“And it’s an innovative choice!” our father says, lifting a glass of ale. “We look forward to learning more about your customs and ways.”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to sound too stiff.