Chapter Sixteen
Theodor
The Battle of Courage
“My dear Theodor of Fhomhair. What have you got yourself into now?” the angel asked in a tone that sounded whispered on a cloud. He walked around the edges of Boraleashe’s bed, more like gliding.
“Thank you for gracing me with your presence.” Theodor dropped to both knees, his head bowed. Harahel smiled down on him and gently touched the top of his head, sending peace and comfort through his wounds like balm.
Harahel scanned the room, his light eyes narrowing when he didn’t spot who he was looking for. “And where is my rebellious son? Hiding from me, I presume?”
“Mozraath is not here. He’s back in Fhomhair, your grace. I came alone.”
Harahel stared at him for too long before he accused, “I can smell his hellfire.” Harahel’s expression turned reprimanding. “What have the two of you done?”
“Your grace. Please. There is no time. My heart… it’s… he’s dying. Will you heal him?”
Harahel went to Boraleashe’s side and gazed down at his battered body with beautiful empathy.
He brought his steepled hands together in the center of his chest and whispered delicate words, a prayer Theodor couldn’t decipher.
Harahel’s hands began to glow with angelic energy before he bent forward and waved his palms over Boraleashe’s shredded torso.
Theodor didn’t interrupt. He didn’t speak a single word, didn’t dare breathe until the gashes began to mend and heal under the white light.
By the time Harahel stopped waving his palms and muttering blessed words, Boraleashe’s life-threatening wounds were nothing more than dark red welts that would leave a badass scar for him to tell glorious stories of.
Thank you, gods. Thank you.
Theodor rose from his knees and hurried to Boraleashe’s side in time to see his eyes flutter closed and his body drift into a deep sleep.
“He needs time to rest, but he will survive… and make a full recovery,” Harahel said, stroking his hand down the length of Theodor’s hair.
“I have not the words of my gratitude, your grace.”
Harahel raised his hand, silencing him. “Theodor, Lord of the Autumn season, there are always consequences when you make deals in the underworld.”
“I know,” Theodor said around a tight jaw.
“For your sake, I hope you are sure.” Harahel glanced behind him at a resting Boraleashe. “If he is not in love with you, your days will be numbered, young king.” And with that gut-stirring warning, the angel vanished in a flourish of pearl-white, silken garments and peaceful light.
Theodor paced the floor, contemplating the deal he and Mozraath had made in the underworld before his heroic arrival in Amárach. He knew he’d made the right decision, no matter how dangerous.
Theodor had heard his name whispered on Boraleashe’s wind. He felt his regret, his loneliness, his fear, and… his love. Boraleashe hadn’t meant to call for him, hadn’t done it consciously. It was his soul that had called out all its own… his distressed wind… and Theodor answered.
But he’d needed the underworld’s hellfire to defeat the Snow Trolls, so he’d made a pact with Mozraath’s demon father, Roguth Dralvoreth, the Superior of the ruthless Valvaron clan.
It was he who’d granted Theodor the power.
But as Harahel warned, everything came at a cost. If he was wrong and he’d saved a man who did not love him, his core would fracture beyond repair, his heart would wither, and he’d die within a week, if not days.
And he’d spend his miserable afterlife in the underworld serving Roguth.
He loves me. I know it. He just couldn’t feel it before. He didn’t trust me then… but now I have given him reason to. Theodor caressed Boraleashe’s smooth forehead, listening to his even breaths. I feel it.
Boraleashe’s daughters and servants stormed into the room before Theodor could fret further over his contract.
The youngest all but threw herself onto the bed, still in her full armor. She placed her forehead against his stomach. “Father.”
“How… What?”
Theodor remembered Boraleashe’s oldest daughter, Enosabe, being the far more controlled, less emotional one. She stared in shock at her father’s healed chest, then up to Theodor for an explanation.
He would not disclose what he’d foregone or all he’d gambled to save Boraleashe’s life.
All the young heirs needed to know was that Theodor was there, and this time, he was not leaving the Arctic World without his heart, his king consort.
Theodor had been selfless—he’d sacrificed much and was faithful to the gods… he’d earned the love he so desired.
Boraleashe’s viceroy, Adresin, cleared his throat to get all their attention. He stood in front of so many chamber attendants and healers that Theodor was surprised he hadn’t heard them come in.
“I must ask that you allow us some privacy to tend to our lord.” It was a polite way of Boraleashe’s man telling them to get out.
“It’s an honor to see you again, lord. My father all but assured us that we’d never see you again.
” Enosabe led him and her sister, with several of her elite guards flanking them, across the immaculate grounds of Mirador Keep.
“He’d returned from Fhomhair with a defeated spirit, conceding his fate of the curse. ”
Theodor accepted the tour only because Boraleashe’s healers were tending to him, and his presence wasn’t required in the bath chamber.
His love would be out of sight for a few hours, and then he was returning to his chambers for the evening, and Theodor dared anyone to try to stop him.
He still possessed the hellfire, and of course, he wielded Gold Reaper, meaning he had the most dangerous weapon in the realms. It’d be foolish and suicide for anyone to challenge him.
“Yes,” Kallos rejoiced, her bright smile and silver eyes reflecting off her steel armor. “Your timing was impeccable, King.”
“I would have proudly died at my father’s side with my men,” Enosabe professed with her chin held high, her fur-collared robe dragging on the ground, her palm resting confidently on the handle of her sword.
Theodor almost smirked. Both were going to make great rulers of Amárach. It was inspiring how well they complemented each other. One kind, radiant, and full of hope, the other stern, focused, and full of command. He hoped they were ready to rule because their time had come.
“I will always show up for him. I believe he knows this now.” Theodor gave them those few words of reassurance, then continued in silence on the wide cobblestone path.
Enosabe ventured toward a garden of ice sculptures sitting on an untouched blanket of the whitest snow in all the kingdoms. Instead of trimmed hedges and towering oak trees like at Theodor’s palace, the Arctic World had twenty-foot-tall frozen carvings of the gods and other majestic creatures of their realm.
The intricate details in the glistening ice were breathtaking to gaze upon, but Theodor’s mind was elsewhere and had nothing to do with décor.
It’d been almost two hours since he’d cleaned himself up and waited in the company of Boraleashe’s daughters.
But he’d waited long enough. He needed to put eyes on his heart. Now.
“Thank you both for the tour. But if you will excuse me—” Theodor interrupted a lengthy story Kallos was reciting about an ancient part of the Keep that he didn’t care about. “—I’d like to go back to Boraleashe’s chambers for the evening.”
“Oh, um, sure. I mean, of course, lord.” Kallos muttered, then turned in the opposite direction, leading back to the main entrance. They had to almost jog to keep up with his rushed steps. “If I may ask, Lord Theodor?”
He didn’t slow his strides, but he nodded at her to ask what she wanted.
“What will happen next?” Kallos directed the question at him, but her older sister answered.
Enosabe’s face was calm except for the deep crease that’d settled in the center of her forehead, her voice hard as steel. “Our father will wed the Treasure of the Realms, and we will rule the land of Tir an Amárach… together.”