Chapter 51
Chapter Fifty-One
Lex
Papers littered my desk, stacking nearly an inch thick in some areas.
Maps, numbers, firsthand accounts were all strewn haphazardly about, resting wherever I tossed them once it became clear that they didn’t hold the answers I desperately needed.
For weeks now, I’d sat in this office, poring over whatever tomes and scrolls Fay found that mentioned the Far North and its inhabitants.
It was as Fay warned, however. Our knowledge of the northernmost part of Elyria was woefully inept and incomplete.
A spattering of accounts spoke of nations with rudimentary language and a penchant for violence, but after one ancient scholar tried a bit too hard to bring them into this century, he was promptly chased away by men hoisting serrated spears imbued with runes and blood.
While the account was interesting, it gave us fuck all of what we needed to try and launch a rescue or, gods forbid, a recovery mission.
I’d just about given up any hope of bringing Itanya home, hardening my heart to the fact that, even if we did find her, she would be irrevocably changed.
I tried desperately not to think of my own time in the dungeons beneath the Academy in Vespera, but unwanted memories haunted my thoughts like shadows in the night the longer I dwelled on the horrors that awaited Itanya in captivity.
I groaned loud and long, trying to grind away the thoughts by pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets.
Unfortunately, the memories and images were still there, blended together with Itanya’s too-serious face.
Lights popped behind my eyes and my head pounded in time to the thud of my heart.
Folami is going to be devastated.
And that killed me.
She’d just begun letting Ilyas and I past her well-built defenses but, as soon as Itanya was stolen, Folami retreated immediately. Her light and open expression fell, revealing the stony underlayer that served her well in the decades since her enslavement.
Despite the fact that Folami was a True Bond and not a Life Bond, I swore I could still feel the disappointment and utter sadness radiating from the spot in my chest where her Bond lived.
Or perhaps that was just my own heart breaking.
A knock on the door had me pulling my head from my hands with a slight groan.
What now?
“Come in,” I rasped, tugging at the ends of my hair in an effort to get them to lie flat. I figured it would be Talamh or even Torin, but I was surprised by a disheveled and exhausted Vessel.
“Oh,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s just you.”
Peytor raised one chestnut eyebrow in my direction, no doubt at my tone, but I didn’t have it in me to care or antagonize him today. When it was clear I wasn’t going to bite, Peytor closed the small office door behind him, encasing the two of us in private silence.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I asked. Peytor fiddled with his hands, eyes trained firmly on his worn leather boots. I didn’t want to find Peytor attractive, but it was something that simply couldn’t be helped.
Even with the obvious uncertainty that guided him here, there was something simply magnetic about him.
It was the intensity with which he lived his life—every action was purposeful, every word carefully measured.
He loved hard, kept those he cared for close, and protected them with every fiber of his being.
It was simply the way Peytor d’Aelius was created, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to him.
Secretly, I still wanted him to join our triad, wanted to be one of those people he so ardently loved and fiercely protected, though it was a desire I’d buried in the wake of the attack on Lishahl.
“Find—” he cleared his throat before continuing. “Find anything yet?”
I shook my head, closing my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see any disappointment or pain in Peytor’s expression.
“She’s not doing well, Lex.”
The comment snapped my eyes open once more, my gaze fixed on the d’Aelius heir.
“You don’t think I know that?” I hissed, pain lancing through my chest.
Peytor shook his head, chestnut waves bouncing around his shoulders. His denial incensed me because the insinuation was worse than his original accusation.
“Then you think I know and simply don’t care? That I’m just, what? Wasting my time in here, hiding away from her?”
Peytor widened his stance and puffed out his chest as if preparing for a verbal battle. Despite the topic of our argument, I felt my cock twitch at the defiance in his gaze, in the hard set of his jaw.
“Which is it, d’Aelius? How little do you really think of me?” I spat, my own hurt over Peytor’s apparent disgust with me bleeding into my question.
“I don’t, Lex. I know you care for her, but have you even tried to get her to talk about it?”
“Have you?” I fired back, gesturing wildly with my palm.
I felt my anger building, a rising inferno that was difficult to contain.
Months of searching, and I’d come up with fucking nothing.
The feelings of incompetence and that I just wasn’t good enough for Folami threatened to pull me under completely each day.
Now, however, they boiled together into something far more raw and visceral.
I pushed up from my chair, hands slapping against the desk as I fixed Peytor with a sneer.
Anger flashed in his eyes like lightning before a storm.
“You are her Mage,” he gritted between his teeth, muscles beneath his tight cream tunic distracting me momentarily.
“And you are her lover,” I whispered, the fight bleeding from my limbs. Peytor reared back in shock, his expression almost comical if the situation weren’t so dire.
“You are not?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. The fight seemed to drain from him, too, as I hesitantly shook my head.
“No,” I croaked in distraught admittance. “No. Not since we Bonded. It was necessary for the Bond to snap into place, but . . .” I gestured at the parchments beneath my hands. “You know what happened.”
“But you both looked so . . . happy at the wedding.”
“Yes. But then Itanya was taken when we relaxed.”
Laughing roughly with a shake of my head, I removed my hands from the desk and tucked them beneath my arms.
“Everything changed,” I said lowly, studying the maps on the desk with an unfocused gaze. “Everything except her love for you.”
Peytor grunted as if the statement actually made physical impact.
“I—” he paused. “It was never my intention to take her from you.”
“Just as it was never my intention to take her from you.” I raised my gaze to meet his.
There was pain there in his eyes, confusion, and a reluctant respect as well.
“Can’t you see, Peytor? I never wanted you on the outside of us.
You were always integral to Folami and, thus, integral to our triad.
Like it or not, you’ve always been a part of our group, just on the fringe. ”
Peytor chewed his lower lip for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. When he didn’t say anything more, I shook my head and sat heavily in the chair once more.
“Go, Peytor. Go be with Folami. Comfort her in whatever way she needs,” I said tiredly. I pushed the back of my head into the chair, hoping to relieve some of the building tension.
“And if I want to join?” His question was quiet, a bit timid.
I stopped rocking my head back and forth, pausing to ruminate over his question.
“Say that again?”
“I said, what if I want to join? Your triad, that is.”
I sat up fully, then, leaning my forearms against the desk to fix Peytor with a probing gaze.
“Why?” I asked, probably harsher than I intended, if Peytor’s wince was any indicator. He said nothing for a moment, and I drummed my fingers against the maps in agitation and anticipation. “Why, Peytor?”
“Because your triad is fracturing,” he blurted, and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, my fingers stalling completely.
“Your triad is fracturing. Anyone can see it. Folami spends her nights with me. You spend your days and nights holed up here, pushing everyone away who could possibly help you. Ilyas haunts the halls like a specter. Your triad is broken, and you need help.”
There was no malice in his admittance, just observation and fact.
I blew out a breath, rustling the papers as I sat back heavily once more.
“And how would you joining fix it?” I asked dully. “Because if it’s just for Folami, I’m telling you that won’t repair us. You would have to be in Peytor. Completely and utterly in. That means we share everything, Peytor.”
Peytor’s mouth flattened into a grim line, and I barked a laugh.
“You hate me that much, don’t you. You offered to save my triad because you love Folami, maybe even tolerate Ilyas, but there is no love for me, is there?” I scoffed and waved my hand in dismissal. “If that’s all, I have a little girl to save.”
With that, I turned away from Peytor, effectively dismissing him completely. But I couldn’t focus on the maps littering the desk. My eyes stung, suddenly filled with unshed tears. It fucking hurt that Peytor wanted nothing to do with me.
Was I that intolerable?
I drummed my fingers as I stared sightlessly.
“Why are you still here?” I rasped, trying to keep the emotion from my voice and failing miserably.
“You’re looking at an upside-down map, Lex,” Peytor said gently, his thick calloused hands coming into view as he quickly turned the map the correct direction. My cheeks heated, and I grunted a quick thanks.
“Lex,” Peytor coaxed again, all previous ire gone. “Lex, please look at me.”
I was a slave to his command, my eyes pulling from the map beneath my hands to the man standing in front of me. Peytor sucked in a small breath at the emotion brimming in my gaze, threatening to spill down my cheeks.
“What? Is this what you wanted to see, Peytor? Did you want to know that your words cut me deeper than they have any right to? That despite your obvious hate and disgust toward me, I still want you? That I still care about you and desire you? And not just because you’re attached to Folami.
Because there is something just . . . solid about you.
Ilyas and I are emotional, we’re flighty.
Folami has walls upon walls, something Ilyas and I understand but don’t know how to break through.
But you? You’re steadfast. You’re strong.
There is something grounding and comforting about you, Peytor.
But to know you want nothing to do with me when I would want everything to do with you? That cuts deepest.”
I let a few tears fall, then, before using my shoulder to wipe them away.
Before I could turn my head to catch the tears on the other side of my face, Peytor’s strong, calloused palm cupped my cheek.
With motions that were tentative and way too gentle for the vitriolic way he spoke to me, Peytor wiped away the evidence of my pain with the pad of his thumb, slowly massaging my cheek as he did so.
“How can you think that, Lex?” he murmured, never extracting his hand. “I thought the hate was sort of foreplay for us, to be honest. It was I who thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
I frowned, trying to think of how Peytor would come to that conclusion.
He smiled crookedly and shook his head. “It wasn’t as if you were declaring your desire for me to join your group, Lex.
You moved Folami into your rooms and left me in mine.
You offered to let Itanya sleep in my room when she wanted because you knew I was a father to her, but you never once offered for me to join you all.
I was constantly on the outside looking in, jealous of what you all had and hating myself for desiring a position in your group, for desiring you. ”
Peytor began to pull his hand from my face, but I caught it with my own, pressing a kiss to his palm, which caused him to hiss in a breath.
“Seems we were both a bit blinded,” I said softly, my lips delicately brushing his skin with every word.
Peytor hummed in apparent agreement, and I relinquished my grip on his hand to fix him with a serious stare.
“We’re going to need better communication if we want to make a quad work,” I said, and my heart jumped in my chest at the smile that broke over Peytor’s face.
I rose slowly from my chair, padding softly to the other side of the desk, my gaze never leaving Peytor’s. He turned as I walked, always keeping his front to me as if I were a predator circling their prey.
I didn’t speak again until we were chest-to-chest. His fell with rapid breaths, clearly as affected as me. My nose came to his chin, my lips to his neck, where I slowly leaned forward to press chaste kisses down the column of his throat.
Peytor groaned when my mouth made contact with his heated skin, and I felt goosebumps erupt over every inch I kissed. I pressed forward until our bodies were completely flush, surprised at the straining erection in Peytor’s pants.
I hummed against his throat, eliciting another groan from his chest.
“I told you,” I whispered between kisses, “that we share in our group. It is always a give and a take. And that means everything, Peytor.” I reached down suddenly and grasped his hard cock through his pants.
He moaned loudly, and I was thankful for the Air Wards Talamh insisted on for each room in the palace.
I stroked Peytor from root to tip, as much as I could manage with his trousers still on, before covering the head of his cock with my warm hand.
He twitched violently in my hold, and I smiled wickedly against his ear.
“So are you going to give or take first?”