Chapter 46 Leavetaking
Leavetaking
MARIGOLD
I was in heaven.
I slumped against the wall, barely breathing, barely thinking, barely holding myself together. I felt so good, so content, so…perfectly languid.
And not at all shaky anymore.
My eyes flew open, and I looked down at my hands. They were no longer trembling. And I could hardly even feel the shiver beneath my skin. I was dizzy with the release of it, so relieved to feel normal again.
And then I saw Radven.
He was across the room, slumped against the wall. And his clothes were in shreds.
The bottom fell out of my stomach.
In half a second, I was at his side, dropping to my knees beside him. He was conscious, thank god, and though he was already attempting to push himself up into a sitting position, he was clearly dazed. Stunned.
“What happened?” I said, supporting his arm. But I could already guess at the answer. If I was no longer feeling the build-up of essence beneath my skin, then…
“What happened, butterfly,” he said with a mild groan, “was that I’m so good your orgasm blasted me across the damn room.”
“That’s impossible.” My face was on fire.
“Clearly, it’s not.” He flashed that devilish grin at me, even as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s a good thing you’re wearing those pearls. Otherwise you might have shot me all the way up into the stars.”
“I’m so sorry,” I told him. “I had no idea that that could happen, or I wouldn’t have—”
“You would have. Because I had no intention of stopping until I tasted your full pleasure.”
Aren’t we cocky? My entire body blazed, but his words didn’t entirely mitigate my guilt. “Well, I’m still sorry I hurt you.”
“This was nothing.” He gave a grunt as he rose to his feet. “And next time, I’ll be prepared.”
I didn’t point out that there probably wouldn’t be a next time.
Despite his suggestion that I come to visit—or vice versa—we both knew how impractical that was.
Not to mention dangerous. And we still didn’t even know if I could create a bridge again tonight, let alone in the future, without him or his brothers to help me.
Now that Radven was standing, his clothes looked even worse.
His shirt was little more than strips of fabric dangling down his chest, the strap of knives beneath cracked and frayed in multiple places.
All that remained of that printed scarf he’d donned for the festival were a few colorful threads. And his pants…
I averted my eyes, but Radven noticed.
“There’s no shame in looking, butterfly,” he said, grinning. “You won’t offend me.”
I mean, he was absolutely impressive. And I wouldn’t have minded another peek… But judging by that arrogant smile, his ego didn’t need the encouragement.
“Isn’t Alastor waiting for us?” I said. “We should probably find you some new clothes so you don’t scandalize anyone.”
Radven shrugged, his eyes laughing at me. “If you insist.”
A few minutes later, he’d acquired a fresh shirt and pants from one of the other rooms. I didn’t bother asking him if they belonged to him or some poor unsuspecting member of Talon’s crew.
I was still a little shaken by what had happened.
Shocked that somehow I’d managed to unleash enough essence to throw Radven across the room despite the pearls around my wrist—and without even realizing what I was doing.
Sure, I’d been distracted in the moment, but I hadn’t realized I was this…
volatile. I could have killed him. All because of an orgasm.
I was definitely going to need therapy after this.
Another good reason for you to go home, I told myself. This world wasn’t just dangerous for me—I was dangerous here. And I couldn’t risk hurting anyone else. Not when so many had already been hurt because of me.
It killed me to leave, though. For every deadly beast or mad sorcerer in this world, there was also magic, and wonder, and so many strange and beautiful things that I’d never get to experience.
For all my insistence that I didn’t belong here, I had to admit a part of me had woken up the moment I set foot in Therador. A part of me had come alive here.
You feel that way because a part of you does belong here, I reminded myself, looking down at my hands. I had this power because I was a descendant of someone from Therador who’d traveled to my world a long, long time ago. I was of both worlds, and I shouldn’t let myself forget it.
But that didn’t mean it was right to stay here, either.
Alastor was waiting for us, as planned, with three horses.
“Oak is over there,” Alastor said, gesturing with his chin as he handed Radven a set of reins.
Radven and I both glanced over.
About half a block away, Octavian held court in front of a growing group of townsfolk. He looked…
Magnificent. Just like he had in those moments right before he and Radven and Alastor had gone racing after Mordren—like a legend come to life.
It was impossible to tear my eyes from him—he was magnetic, the sort of person who captured and held the attention of everyone in the vicinity.
And while he didn’t exactly look cheerful—how could he, given what had happened tonight?
—he was clearly in his element. He almost looked like he was… enjoying himself.
Beside me, Radven gave a low chuckle. “Oak could never resist an opportunity to preen a little. Glad some things haven’t changed.” There was no judgment in his voice, just…something that sounded curiously like relief.
And I wondered if, perhaps, I was finally getting a glimpse of the true Octavian.
Even from here, I could see the way people looked at him—with open admiration and even worship. He wasn’t just a celebrity in this world—he was a symbol of hope after a night of tragedy. A bright light in the middle of the dark.
“Was it always like this?” I asked softly. “Before the curse, I mean?”
“Often,” Radven said, and there was both amusement and wistfulness in his voice.
“If he’s such a big deal here, why didn’t more people recognize him earlier?” I asked. “Why weren’t they flocking around him all night?”
“We’ve been gone for too long.” It was Alastor who answered me this time. “Most people have either forgotten or given up on us.”
Not Talon and his crew, I wanted to say, but Radven spoke first.
“He has a quality about him,” Radven said.
“A natural quality, nothing to do with his other power. In your world, it’s the thing people refer to as the ‘it’ factor.
” He smirked a little at that term. “He’ll always attract some attention, even when he’s trying to lay low—he can’t help it.
But when he truly lets himself shine, it’s something else completely. Something impossible to ignore.”
I completely understood. He was talking about that presence I’d noticed the very first night I’d met them all, that thing that even now made everything around Octavian seem…
faded, somehow. Less important than the man at the center of it all.
The people around Octavian hung on his every word, and some reached their hands up towards him like he was some sort of messiah.
“We should go,” Alastor said suddenly.
Radven nodded, and another look passed between them. I could guess at the questions in that look—did we interrupt this scene to tell Octavian where we were going? That I was leaving?
“Don’t interrupt him,” I said before the brothers could speak.
“Let the people have this.” Because I knew what would happen if we told Octavian I was going.
I didn’t think he would try to stop me, but—at the very least, he would insist on coming.
And after overhearing what had happened between the brothers in the woods…
I didn’t want to cause another argument. Not now.
It was also possible that I was a coward, and that I couldn’t bring myself to face him one last time.
It was easier, less complicated this way.
But I told myself it was an act of selflessness—that I was giving up my goodbye so the people of Ring-Around-the-Hill could be blessed with a few more moments of Octavian’s warm, uplifting presence.
It was the least I could do, considering that tonight’s tragedy had happened because Mordren was trying to get to me.
Thankfully, the brothers didn’t try to change my mind.
Without another word, we mounted our horses and rode away from Octavian.
It had been years since I’d ridden a horse—not counting the hours I’d spent hanging upside-down when I was taken by Laitha, of course.
And the horses were skittish after all the explosions and chaos of tonight, jumping at every noise, jerking their heads toward any sudden movements on either side of us.
It was a miracle that I managed to keep my seat in the saddle.
It was different once we exited the town, though. Outside the walls, there were fewer distractions and noises to scare the horses—but the creatures were spooked for a different reason now.
“They can smell the roving beasts,” Radven said, and I wasn’t sure whether he’d read my mind or was simply musing to himself. “The beasts are always wilder when Leonaris is full.”
“Leonaris?” I asked. “The Mythic One?”
“The moon.” He gestured toward the sky, and I glanced up, catching a glimpse of Therador’s three moons before our horses carried us beneath the trees.
Radven went on, “Each of our moons is named for one of the Mythic Ones—Leonaris, Vela, and Erys.”
I whispered those names to myself, committing them to my memory. I didn’t have the time to learn all of Therador’s legends and secrets, but I would hold on to those details I could.
We picked up our pace after that. I clung desperately to the reins of my horse as I bounced in the saddle, praying I wouldn’t fall off.
But it got harder when Radven steered us off the road and through the trees. We had to slow down a little—for which I was incredibly grateful—but the terrain became uneven and unpredictable beneath the horses’ hooves. And it may have been my imagination, but the air shifted, too.
No, it’s not just your imagination, I told myself when I saw the way my horse’s ears flicked back, as if it could hear something on the wind. Behind me, Alastor’s horse let out a low nicker.
I should have asked them for a knife or something. Just in case we encountered one of those roving beasts. After my close calls with the basilisk and the boarlath, I wasn’t eager to learn what other creatures wandered in these woods.
As if in response to my thoughts, a low, keening sound snaked through the trees.
My horse jerked, tossing its head, and if Alastor hadn’t reached out to grab my reins I probably would have been thrown to the ground.
“What was that?” I asked, unable to keep the fear from my voice.
“Something we don’t want to meet,” was all he replied. To Radven, he said, “We need to be quick about this.”
Radven glanced back at me. “How fast can you ride?”
“Uh…” If I was going to be perfectly honest… “Not fast enough.”
“She can ride with me,” Alastor said. He leaned over and took my arm. “Come over here. Quickly.”
It took some clumsy maneuvering, but somehow I managed to climb from my horse onto his, then settle myself in the saddle in front of him. By the time I got my skirts untangled around me, Alastor had tied my horse’s reins to his saddle. Then he slid an arm around my waist.
“Hold on,” he said into my ear.
And we were off.
We charged through the trees, and I clung to the saddle for dear life—though honestly, it was really only Alastor’s arms around me that kept me from flying off. My hair whipped around my face, blocking my vision, so I just squeezed my eyes shut and held on tight and prayed we didn’t have far to go.
At least I’m not sitting in front of Radven, I thought, noting how snugly my butt was pressed against Alastor.
If Radven had been pressed against me the way Alastor was now—strong arm around my waist, muscled chest against my back, thighs squeezing mine, crotch rubbing against my butt with every stride of the horse—I wouldn’t have been able to think straight.
As it was, even though I refused to think of Alastor that way at all, I still found the position incredibly distracting.
I could feel far, far too much of Alastor through his pants.
And his scent…god, I was drowning in it.
Even with the danger all around us, all I wanted to do was lean back against him, breathe deeply, and—
Pull yourself together, Goldie. This isn’t a smut novel.
Alastor jerked the reins, and his arm tightened around me as he steered our horse sharply to the right.
My eyes flew open, and I pushed my wild hair out of my face. Radven rode just ahead of us, but otherwise, I couldn’t see anything but trees and shadows all around us.
But I heard it.
Heard them.
That terrifying keening noise was closer now. And this time it wasn’t just a single, solitary sound. It was a chorus of terrifying, groaning wails, coming from all around us.
We were surrounded.