Chapter 37
Wolfe
“The Bonded and the Broken”
The next two days passed in a blur, a vague cluster of events that melted together in my mind, no different from drifting through the Void.
There was enough to keep me occupied, but my mind never left Elariya. I kept seeing her face and those eyes staring back at me with hurt and disappointment. And I kept feeling like the bastard I was.
Standing by my word, I hadn't seen her since our fight.
I'd purposely stayed away, deciding we both needed time apart to cool down and process.
I especially needed it to get myself back on track and rebalance my mind.
I never achieved the latter, but after hours of research with my Bloodsworn and Arielle's studious visits to the citadel, we'd come up with a few ideas for a new spell.
It was still a work in progress with theories scattered here and there that required deeper thinking and testing, but at least the ideas were there. So was hope.
All being well, I could start testing out a few of those ideas next week. Maybe I'd know more about my mage by then, too.
I'd kept my silence about Elariya's ancient magic. Thankfully, she hadn't said anything to anyone either. I'd always been open with my Veythral, but on this occasion I felt it was best to keep the secret under wraps until I knew more about her powers. Hopefully that would be soon.
I’d figured that the only way I could know more is by continuing her training with Arielle.
Right now, I needed to sleep. Or rest at the very least. It was well past the witching hour, and even with my ability to go days without sleep, I was tapped out.
I'd spent all day with Bastian and Alaric investigating the rebels.
We'd gone over intel from my spies showing a decrease in activity in the regions where the rebels had been active only a handful of weeks ago.
It would almost appear that they'd gotten scared and backed down, but the warning in my heart told me otherwise.
I felt something different was happening, and they probably had more help, perhaps others who had joined forces with them to side against me.
I'd been in enough wars to smell an oncoming threat clinging to the edges of the wind.
It had been a hundred years since I'd fought in the battle with the Isles of the Northern Seas, but the ability to smell conflict had never left me.
Galaythia had not seen civil war in my lifetime, nor my father's.
I would hate for it to happen on my watch.
Potential war on the rise was enough to deal with, but Dreynthor's name day celebration was now four days away, and I had to attend, whether I wanted to or not.
Thankfully, my uncle had left me alone since the council meeting, but I'd seen him briefly a few times. At the celebration, I was sure he'd want to speak to me because of the princess and throw his threats at me.
I phased into the silent hallway at Vyrenth Hollow and took in the stillness of the manor. Everyone should be asleep. Including her—my mage.
It was hard to believe that we only had fifteen days until her next memory reset.
Then she'd forget me. It was a bittersweet, cruel thought that she'd forget what I'd said, as if it didn't happen.
But she'd also forget the context of our argument, which was overflowing with all the things we'd never said to each other.
I passed the hall that would take me to her room and stopped before turning the corner.
I wanted to check on her like I used to before the argument, but that wouldn't help either of us. Seeing her now would only weaken my resolve. I needed to harden my heart.
Heart.
Apparently, I still had one, and it seemed to only beat for her.
I shoved the thought away, pushing it to the back of beyond, then kept going, heading toward my room.
I made it to the stairs when muffled footsteps approached on the floor above, muted by the carpet. Garrick met me at the top, his face pinched with worry.
“Wolfe.” I didn't like the way he said my name—with hesitation and an uneasiness that spiked my nerves.
There was also the fact that although he was practically living here while Elariya was in my care, I'd never seen him at this hour unless there was trouble.
“What happened?” I decided to cut to the chase; no point dragging out whatever was going on.
“It's Elariya.”
I froze, my entire body stiffening. “What happened to her?”
Garrick held up his hands. “She's okay. She's safe. It's just that she had a little too much to drink.”
I shot him a look dripping with disdain. “What do you mean, she had too much to drink?”
“Listen, Wolfe, she had a rough day. Or rather a rough couple of days. Maybe you could cut her some slack.”
Heat flared in my chest, and my hands curled into fists. How dare he advise me to do anything? “When last I checked, it was I, Wolfe Nightblade, who was Prince of Galaythia. Not you. You don't tell me when I should cut anyone slack.”
His jaw squared, and he bit the inside of his lip. “I know, and I meant no disrespect. I just thought I'd tell you why it happened.”
“You should have been watching her.”
“I was. That's why I thought she'd be fine drinking with me.”
Fucking bastard. He was drinking with her? Of course he was. Him with his good-natured mannerisms and charm had probably wined and dined her as if they were on some kind of date.
“She was absolutely fine, until she started drinking the hard stuff. I didn't realize she had any until it was too late. She thought the wine was strawberry ale. Liqueur here is stronger than that of the mortal lands.”
“Damn it, Garrick. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“It was an honest mistake. But she'll be okay. She just needs to sleep it off.”
I turned to go to her room, but he caught my arm, stopping me. “She's not down there.”
I leveled him with a hard stare and gritted my teeth. “Where is she?”
“Your room.” His shoulders slumped, and he released me.
“My room?” Of all the rooms in this big old house, she had to be in that one.
Garrick nodded.
“What is she doing in there?”
“She started casting spells on things. I didn't want to bind her in case I messed with her powers, and it was getting a little dangerous. Your room is the only spell-proof one in the house, so I thought it was best to put her in there.”
I groaned. Fuck. The room was spell and power-proofed as an extra layer of security in case anyone tried to attack me while I slept. If they did, they'd get a nasty surprise when they found it didn't work, or that I was the only one who could bypass my security system.
I barged past Garrick and marched down the hall to my room. He followed in tow, our steps echoing loudly down the corridor.
I reached my room door, pushed it open, and the world stopped moving.
I didn't know what I'd expected to find. But what I wasn't prepared for was this.
Elariya lay sprawled across my desk with her back against the window, wearing nothing but my godsdamned shirt that barely covered her thighs.
The oversized shirt hung loose on her small frame, one side slipping off her shoulder to expose the huge swells of her breasts. Her hair fell in a sexy mess over her face and shoulders, the red strands cascading over her skin like a river of fire.
Half-drunk in front of her sat one of my rarest wines, an heirloom from my great-great-grandfather, meant to be passed through the ages. But I wasn't looking at the damn wine. Nor did I care about it.
All the blood in my body rushed to my cock, extinguishing my ironclad control.
My gaze devoured her exposed shoulder, the swell of her breasts, those long bare legs. The parts hidden beneath the shirt taunted me even more. And fucking Garrick was looking at her, too.
He leaned in, brushing his shoulder against mine. “You know what, Wolfe? Come to think of it, I could take her back to my room and watch her for the night. I really shouldn't have burdened you with this.”
I snapped my gaze to him and glared as his fucking eyes roamed over Elariya from head to toe, the look in his gaze filled with the sort of doggish hungry desire I'd seen too many times before one of his hookups.
“Get. Out,” I roared like a savage.
He was still looking at her. “But I—”
“Get the fuck out, or I'll cut out your eyes.” My threat worked, snapping him out of his trance, but he looked at me as if I'd lost my damn mind. Maybe I finally had.
“Fine. I'm gone.” He held up his hands and retreated, backing out of the room, but not without stealing one last glance at my mage.
I closed the door and turned back to face Elariya.
I shook my head. What sort of trick was the universe playing on me now? I'd done everything to keep my distance from this girl, and look at us. Here in my room. Alone.
Dragging in a deep breath, I walked up to her and stood in front of the desk. Against the stained-glass window, the pure erotic vision of her reminded me of a siren sent to tempt me.
“Elariya,” I said her name in barely more than a breath. “Ziyka...”
It had been a while since I'd called her that. It was almost refreshing to hear the pet name fall from my lips.
She blinked, wobbling slightly before she straightened and stared at me. On seeing me, a frown marred her pretty face.
“You. Why are you here?” She slurred her words, barely able to get them out.
Gods. She really was drunk. “This is my room, Ziyka.”
She looked around and blinked again through squinty eyes, then frowned.
“Ziyka—”
“Go away from me.” She waved a hand to dismiss me, and crackles of white lightning shot out from her palm.
My wards didn’t even get a chance to kick in because the lightning fizzled in the air before it could reach me, turning into pink rose petals that floated around us like rain. It was the first time I'd seen her magic, and it was clearly off from her drunken state.
Her frown deepened and she continued searching the room. “Where is Garrick? I want him.”
Jealousy spiked my nerves, sending them into a frenzy, but I tamped it down. “Garrick is off duty now.”