Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
WINDSONG
B astian walked in silence beside Sage. The sun was just coming up over the ocean, the pastel hues of a new day painting the horizon in its glory. They had spent the entirety of the night on that turret, discussing options.
The princess had not minced words. Her father was not, nor ever been, the ruler he presented on the greater realm’s stage. He was calculated and reaching and paranoid. Mekale didn’t hold back. There wasn’t much love left between them. Over the years, it had been replaced by well-earned distrust.
Though Mekale’s skepticism originally stemmed from self-preservation, she’d learned early on that Calian viewed her and her brother as royal chattel. Over the years, she watched her father’s true motives creep into all aspects of the kingdom. And her wariness grew. She had taken to spying on him, gathering information, staying one step ahead. Being prepared.
Unwittingly, Calian had trained his own daughter to become his best investigator. Her astute observations, her ability to play the game, became so attuned to this court and the king’s thinking that she recognized the moment her father began acting out of character .
To be certain, though, the princess started a journal. When the culmination of oddities became more common than uncommon, she snuck into Calian’s personal study. There, she learned exactly how many fae had gone missing over the past six months. Far more than had been disclosed.
Hundreds had disappeared.
That wasn’t all she uncovered. Calian had been in near-weekly communication with the late king of Hornhall. The two rulers had been working together on the issue, in secret, utilizing both kingdoms’ strongest resources: the Warborn and the King’s Knights.
Bastian was the only one who didn’t understand why that correspondence was so prolific. The princess explained. While both kings played the appropriate roles, regarding each other as equals in public, it did little to underscore what those in the inner court circles knew to be true: The relationship between the two was, at best, tolerated disdain.
Still, two rulers setting aside their personal opinions and collaborating over a national crises was nothing revolutionary. What made the letters curiously unique was who had been deliberately omitted from the discussions.
Everyone…
The Warborn of Windsong and the King’s Knights of Hornhall all thought they were working under the behest of their sworn sovereigns. Even Lord Venderson appeared to know nothing of Calian’s collusion.
Then the communications abruptly stopped, a month before the King of Hornhall died. Right around the time the princess had noticed a more dramatic shift in her father’s demeanor.
The ‘ checking out’ Bastian had observed on day one. It wasn’t due to any immortal boredom or carelessness. The king was being manipulated by someone. Or something …if the princess’s theory was correct.
Today’s tourney was the final piece of the puzzle Mekale needed to draw her own conclusion. For today was the first day Calian stopped caring if his children lived or died.
“I don’t think you should go back to your chamber,” Sage said, pulling Bastian from his thoughts.
He’d been so lost in them he failed to notice they had arrived at her bedroom. She opened the door and stepped inside, scanning the space with an attention to detail that would make an assassin proud.
“Stay here.” She faced him. “Stay with me.”
It was a logical request, given all the information they now possessed. The challenges they were about to face. But the look in her eyes… It went deeper than rational thinking.
And it wasn’t really a suggestion.
Bastian stepped over the threshold. “The implications of this. Should anyone see us…”
“Have already been implied.” She closed the door behind him.
“I can always hunt down the guard and kill him.” He grinned.
A breathy chuckle. “No one needs to die on my behalf.”
She walked over to the bed and sat down. “Besides, the opportunity for that has passed.” She pulled off one of her satin slippers and sighed with relief. “He will have already told half the castle staff by now.” The second one came off. “Windsong is nothing if not thorough in its gossip.”
Bastian hadn’t considered what that gossip might entail for Sage. He had still been processing what occurred with the demon in the tub when the guard rushed in. Then he’d lost his mind and kissed her. Everything else stopped mattering.
Everything but her.
There hadn’t been a moment since that gave space for introspection. Every second had been spent deciphering how best to get out of this castle alive. Until now.
“I’m sorry,” he lied. He wasn’t sorry. Not in the least.
Sage looked up. “For what?”
“For compromising your agenda here. ”
She stared at him. Stared at him without a trace of emotion on her face.
“It’s remarkable,” she finally said.
Bastian didn’t miss the change in her tone, the chill of it. He replied, “What is?”
“Your ability to lie to yourself.”
He blinked. “You would rather I be pleased? That your relationship with the prince might be questioned should he believe the chatter of servants.” Bastian shook his head. “I don’t think–”
“Then you shouldn’t talk,” she said.
He closed his mouth. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had spoken to him like this. Certainly not done so and lived.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He turned for the door, choosing avoidance. “I’ll speak to the prince. Clear up any rumors.”
“Is that what you want?”
He reached for the door. “I want whatever you want.”
“Then why don’t you ask me,” she challenged. “Are you afraid of what I might say?”
His hand stilled on the door handle. He breathed in and out through his nose, his jaw grinding together so tightly he thought his teeth might shatter. Yes! He was petrified of her effing answer.
Bastian didn’t turn back, his fingers flexing over the handle. “Do you want me to fix things with the prince?”
“No.”
He didn’t allow a second of hope, instead asking, “Because you can fix it yourself?”
“If I wanted to, yes. I can take care of any rumors on my own.”
He had no doubt. The thoughts of how she might, though…they shredded him.
Bastian forced his body to turn from the door. “Have you changed your mind about becoming a princess?”
Her green eyes met his. “Becoming a member of this court was never what I wanted.” The steel in her gaze softened. “I was only repaying a debt. ”
His face must have done a good job conveying his confusion, because she continued, “I was only ten years of age when my parents died. My older cousin, Gideon, took me in. He provided the funds and training I needed. But there was a cost to his generosity.”
She glanced away. “He never specified what it would be until last year. That’s why I am here.”
Bastian had never wanted to murder anyone more than Gideon. But that urge would have to wait. “Will your cousin accept another form of currency?” He ground out, “For this debt. ”
“I don’t know.” She slowly lifted her gaze, exhaustion evident in the languidness of her limbs, the heaviness of her eyelids. Her soul… “I’m sure he will think of something.”
Gideon was definitely going to die. Slowly. Bastian couldn’t fathom what type of male would take in a child, a family member , only to make them a pawn. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“Leave with me,” he said. “Come to Earth.”
She gave him a wan smile. “I can’t leave. I have too many counting on me here.”
“They can come, too. Whoever it is.”
“It’s more complicated than that, Bastian.”
“How?” He started toward her. “How is it more complicated than that?”
She shook her head and wisps of hair slipped free of her braids, falling around her face. “I’m tired. We need to get some rest, or we’ll be no use to anyone later today.”
“Is it the fae from the tavern?” he persisted as his anger mounted. “Is that what makes this complicated ?”
“Keep your voice down,” she bit out, sitting up straighter. “I told you who he is.”
“No.” He stopped in front of her. “You really didn’t.” Even though Bastian recognized what was happening, he was powerless to stop his next words. “Half-truths is all you’ve given me. Same as you have done with the prince. ”
“Don’t you dare!” She shot to her feet. “After all I have done for you.”
“Ah, but you’ve’ done for him, too.” He towered over her. “Tell me, Lady Kerrington, is it me, the prince, or the tavern rebel you do the most for?”
The room’s temperature took a nosedive. Sage didn’t bat an eyelash, didn’t tense a muscle, but the ring of gold in her eyes flared with a halo of fire. She snuffed it out as effortlessly as blowing out a candle. A reminder of just how deep that well of power in her went. How dangerously close to experiencing it he was.
“I will not be spoken to like that,” she warned, her voice like ice.
He rocked back on his heels. “How long did you intend to carry on this charade?”
She didn’t balk. “Until I got the information I needed.”
“For who?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want any secrets between us,” he said.
“You don’t want them…now?” Sage tilted her head. “Are you going to share yours? Or do you just expect me to unburden mine?”
“Which of mine do you need to hear?” he intoned coolly.
“Why don’t I list them for you?” she said with unnerving calm. “Starting with, you making yourself the villain in every conceivable story. Is it for those you care about most? So they might appear the lesser of your family’s perceived evils?”
He didn’t budge, didn’t breathe. Her gaze raked over him, as if she could see every chink in his armor. “Your presentation has become quite good, your reputation across the realms undisputed. You almost convinced yourself.”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, if only to keep them from shaking. “By all means, continue.”
She did. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Putting yourself last. Doing what is best for the unit, instead of acting on what feels right for yourself.”
“I’m starting to think you would prefer me to be an asshole.”
She took a step toward him. He hadn’t realized he’d even moved back. She asked, “How long did you wait to let anyone know you mastered all four elements?”
He stared at her. “Years.”
“Why was that?”
“I wanted my brother to unlock his powers first.”
“Why?”
He glanced to the door. He should leave. He would leave. How did she know?
“Why was that important to you, Bastian?” She blocked his path. “Why did you need Eirik to believe he beat you to them? Why was it imperative that none of your family know?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Just answer me.”
“Because it needs to be him!” he snapped.
The silence of the room snapped back at him–deafening in its attention. The words he’d left hanging in the air.
“Eirik is my twin, but he got all the aspects of our lineage that are good.” Looking down, Bastian ran a hand though his hair. “I have this…this darkness inside. It’s constant. Always in my ear, always singing to me. I can’t be the Chosen One.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t deserve to be.”
“You do.” The sadness in those two words was almost too much to bear. “Bastian, your biggest battles have already been waged. With yourself. Nothing else can compare with that manner of war.”
He shook his head, lining up a million disputes. Not a single one crested his lips.
Sage took his hand, which forced his attention back to her–to the undisputed connection that flowed between them. “You have armed yourself well. To the teeth. All I need to know is–”
He pulled away .
Her brows furrowed. “Bastian…”
He took a step back. It felt like cleaving off his arm, but he took another one.
“Don’t.” She reached for him. “Don’t do this.”
He looked into her eyes, then did the only thing he knew how to do. He welcomed the familiar isolation, his old companion–the dark. He reached for the door handle. And shut it down.
T he bond between them went taut, dangerously taut–a string on the verge of snapping.
And then it disappeared altogether, as if he had flicked a switch and simply turned it off.
Bastian walked out of her room and closed the door.
The pain was acute, precise, like a sucker punch to the gut. The air left her lungs.
Sage doubled over. She gasped, one arm around her middle, the other reaching out in vain. Toward a door that wouldn’t be opening.
She dropped to the floor. What had she done? The sensation was paralyzing, a crippling assault, caging her mentally and physically. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think past this hurt.
Then…a shift… Some token of kindness.
A tendril of a breeze, warm and calm, came from under the door. It swept over her, stroked invisible fingers down her spine, over her nerves, and infiltrated her mind with its soothing melody.
Sage couldn’t help but lean into it. She let it take her, relinquishing all control to the trance-like state. She closed her eyes and gave into the coaxing pull of that tender breeze, slipping further away from the here and now, until she was free falling through time and space. Transported into another world. A world where this loss had not occurred. A world where the steady, rhythmic sound of his boots walking away no longer existed.
She woke up in in the same position she’d fallen asleep, only one thought in her head. Bastian. Who he was to her. What that meant. How best to proceed now.
Sage rolled onto her back, noting the way the shadows crept over the walls, the scattered copper and scarlet light that saturated the stone.
She jerked upright. Holy fuck, it was near dusk! She’d been asleep for the entire day.
She leapt up and spun in place, frantically trying to catch her mind up with her body. The celebration. A ball tonight in their honor. She only had a couple hours before she would need to be downstairs. Two hours to set her plans in motion.
Hopefully enough time to figure out exactly what those plans were.
Sage beelined for the bathroom. She could plot her next steps while she showered. She needed to meet Wilkes, explain the changes, and set a new course. Then she had to find Bastian and apologize for pushing him. Pray he could forgive her.
The prince... Gods, she owed him some sliver of truth. She really liked him. He was nothing like his father. Griffith was kind, gentle and intelligent, he deserved a bride who loved him for all he was. Not someone whose only goal was to fulfill a stupid debt, persuading his affection only as a means to an end.
Seeking revolution had been her only motivation in agreeing to Gideon’s plan. A change so great Sage had been willing to sacrifice her future happiness to incite it. Change that could undo all the past wrongs of their kingdom–to rip out the fangs of the beast that had consumed Ventus.
But she had been wrong. She couldn’t fix any of it with past anger trailing her, dogging her steps, creating more innocent victims. The prince was not responsible for his father’s actions. He should not pay the price for them.
And he wouldn’t. Not if she had anything to do with it.
Sage turned the faucet to scalding, stripped, and stepped in. Gideon would be her biggest obstacle in all of this. She would have to find another offering, propose another deal to serve as payment for the debt she owed him.
She eased back into the blistering hot water, let it wash over her, while weighing each and every turn of events she could recall. She searched for long lost clues. Anything that might pinpoint why her cousin was so set on this union.
He hated the royals of Windsong and Hornhall, same as her, but his anger clearly was driven by other factors. She wanted to protect those she cared for, willing to give her own life for theirs. Be the change it took to bring about peace. Gideon wanted more.
He craved absolute power. No holds barred. He wanted every last shred of former glory restored.
Her mind raced across the years, back through time. To the life stolen from her. A time when she didn’t have the weight of a drowning world on her shoulders. She closed her eyes.
And was there once again.
Ten years old. Running, giggling through the grand halls .
Her father and Gideon’s father were brothers. Her cousin was the oldest of three siblings, and the only one who survived the siege. Sage barely remembered any of them. They had been fully grown, at least a century old, by the time she had been born. What she did recall were fleeting vignettes of memories stored in the back of her mind from holidays and festivals when they would visit court.
She always sensed their fathers were close. She could still conjure up the sound of her uncle’s voice, laughing boisterously with her father at the end of the long table in the dining hall. Both males had been larger than life, similar coloring, dark hair and forest-green eyes–the same as hers.
Sage adored her father. She could only assume Gideon felt the same about his. As different as they now seemed.
Her cousin took after his mother, though. Sage struggled to recall the woman at all, other than her striking appearance. Gideon had the same fine-boned aristocratic face, long limbs, and snow-white hair. The only trait he shared with his father was their bloodline’s infamous eyes. The combination made quite an impression on the court ladies and household staff whenever her cousin would pay a visit.
Gideon’s younger brother had been aloof, preferring to spend his time in the training yard over the keep. Just as handsome as the others, he had dark hair, always uncombed, and dark eyes.
But it had been the middle cousin Sage liked most of all. Aaron was jolly like his father, with silver hair he tied back at the nape of his thick neck, and eyes the color of sharp steel. The warrior always made a point to talk to Sage. He smelled of the mountains and stole treats for her from the kitchen. She often wondered how different her life might have turned out if he had been the one to live.
The water was dropping to a reasonable temperature. Quickly, Sage shampooed her hair and took a bar of soap to her skin before turning off the shower and stepping out. She wrapped herself in a soft robe and piled her hair up in a towel.
She’d ask Wilkes for suggestions on dealing with Gideon, after she told him everything she learned from the princess. She glanced out the bathroom window on her way to the door. The setting sun had ten minutes left, at best. She could make it to the beach in that amount of time.
She stepped into her bedchamber.
And stopped dead in her tracks.
“Hello, cousin,” Gideon drawled from where he relaxed on the settee. One arm draped across the curving back, his long, elegant fingers drummed indolently over the crushed velvet edge. The casualness was at odds with his pitch black, expertly tailored, not a wrinkle to be found, suit. He had forgone the cravat though, choosing instead to leave the top button undone, highlighting his toned chest beneath. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all.” She kept her face neutral as she walked to the armoire. “Did you come to check up on…things?”
His eyes tracked her every movement; she could feel them through the robe. “No need to watch your words. I spelled the room against possible spies,” he said. “And yes. I wanted to see for myself how my investment is faring.”
She took out a dress. “I have moved on to the final round. Did your acolytes not tell you?”
“They did. But the final round is not the real prize. Have you secured the prince?”
She was glad she hadn’t turned around. She wasn’t sure she could hide the fear that crawled up her spine. Did he know about Bastian and the encounter with the guard?
She steeled her nerves and faced him. “Unless he has changed his mind over night, then yes. I believe he will choose me. When the time comes.”
“Why might he have a reason to change his mind?”
Warning bells pealed in her head. He knew.
Sage walked over to the bed and laid the dress out. “You tell me, Gideon. Did he find a reason?”
Her cousin looked her over thoroughly. Her stomach rolled at the roving gaze that was anything but that of a family member. He had never crossed that line. He enjoyed toeing it too much. But the threat lived rent free in her mind. Right beside the last thread of her morals. How far would she be willing to go to keep those who mattered most protected?
“No.” He shifted on the settee, the movement easy but calculated, as all his movements were. “Safe to assume the castle might run a little slow tonight, though. Seeing as half the kitchen staff never showed up for work this morning.”
Her gut twisted. She should have known her cousin would have his spies planted strategically. The servants’ deaths were on her hands.
“A clumsy mistake. One, I’m sure you won’t repeat.” He stood, as graceful as a cat, and asked with a casual, terrifying calm, “Is the dragon going to be an issue?”
Her throat bobbed. His eyes eagerly noted it .
Despite every instinct in her body screaming at her, Sage didn’t avert her gaze as she replied, “No. He was just something to sample.”
This was how it always went with Gideon. Everything was checks and balances, games and power. He alone kept her secrets safe, her friends guarded. He was her savior. If he ever felt underappreciated, he could destroy all of them. As easy as swatting a fly.
She busied herself with smoothing out the gown. “It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Gideon walked over to stand beside her. “You and I have worked too hard for this.” He looked down at the dress and ran a finger over the delicate stitching of its bodice.
She did shudder now. At the intimacy of the implied touch. His attention slid to her. “Was he worth it? Risking my wrath?”
She looked up at him. “As I said, I made a mistake.”
He reached out and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “That’s not what I asked.”
She stayed very still. The calluses on his fingers were reminder enough, despite his polished appearance, that he still practiced often. Her cousin was one of the most efficient killers to ever walk the realm. Without magic.
With it… She didn’t want to find out if she could take him. Not here, not yet.
A half-truth then. She replied, “No, he was not worth risking your wrath.”
Gideon stepped back. If he was pleased, if he was angry, his face revealed none of it. “I have something planned for tonight,” he said. “Your skill at deception will be paramount.”
It wasn’t a request. “You won’t tell me now?”
He grinned. “There is no fun in that, dear cousin.” He turned for the door, his powerful steps signaling the warrior beneath the elegant finery.
She watched his back as he stepped over the threshold. Never once glancing back, he let the door close behind him .
Shit!
She dropped the robe, pawed the towel off her head, and quickly donned the dress. She was running desperately short on time. Now she had this conversation to add to her ever-growing list of discussions.
Sage headed for the secret door. Nothing good could come from Gideon being here. All she could do was try and keep her head in whatever game he was playing. And hope to hell they all lived to see another day by the end of it.