Chapter 23
Faylinn
The Mage rapped twice on Lord d’Refan’s study door before stepping back and snapping to attention.
I rolled my eyes with a quiet scoff.
Just because the man thought himself a king didn’t make him any better than the rest of us. In fact, it only placed further responsibilities on his shoulders—responsibilities I wasn’t confident he could fulfill.
It was no secret that Ellowyn d’Aelius—d’Refan, now—was disgruntled. She was rarely seen with her husband and, when they were together, was cold and aloof, a far cry from the meek, scared girl I met in Hestin.
If he can barely keep his wife happy, how was he going to be able to do that for an entire realm?
“Enter,” Lord d’Refan’s voice called from inside the office. The Mage opened the door just as I heard the deep, smooth rasp of another voice inside. The familiarity of his whiskey-smoothness caused my muscles to seize as the Mage gestured me inside.
I stood, frozen, as the door opened wider, revealing Lord d’Refan’s study.
It was a large, rather ostentatious space with tall windows on the far wall, letting the late afternoon light stream inside to illuminate the ornate red rug covering the stone floor.
There was an oversized stone fireplace to the right, a fire crackling merrily in the hearth.
Bookcases covered the walls—some shelves filled with books, others with priceless trinkets—and I subconsciously shuddered at the open-grate fireplace lit next to such flammable materials.
But what drew my eye wasn’t the well-decorated space or the countless tomes full of knowledge.
Instead, I was intently focused on the man sitting in an armchair nearest the fire.
He still wore his black uniform with the two gold bars on each shoulder, while supple black leather boots covered his feet and calves.
His hand curved sensuously around a clear glass tumbler of whiskey as he slowly swirled the amber liquid.
My gaze trailed up his taught forearm to his chest and up further still to the close-cropped beard that adorned his strong jaw.
That’s new.
My perusal continued further, past his full lips and strong nose. I skipped his eyes, taking in the dark hair longer from his time away. It was still short, but now long enough to run your fingers through. There was a texture to it, a slight wave that I itched to touch.
His eyes were still the most arresting green, deep like a forest as it turns to spring, and they were glued on me.
I gulped under his intense scrutiny.
General Rohak d’Alvey.
I was undeniably and indescribably pulled to him—both in mind and body.
But the man hated me after I forcibly Bonded Ben and Asha without Ben’s consent—an action that went directly against what Rohak believed to be right and true.
Something he had confessed to me only hours before I forced Ben into the Bond.
He had every reason to distrust me.
I swallowed audibly before the Mage at my back huffed in annoyance and pushed me into the room. My bare feet left the cold stone of the hallway and made contact with the plush rug, which gave me a chance to break the intense eye contact with Rohak as I focused on the fibers beneath my bare toes.
“Soft,” I mumbled as I wiggled my toes.
I was barely cognizant of the door shutting behind me with a soft snick as Lord d’Refan laughed.
“I see you’ve ditched the boots already, hmm?” he teased loudly as he sipped from his extremely full glass of whiskey. I had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t his first of the day.
Despite the unnerving near-constant zooming of his eyes, focusing on Lord d’Refan was much easier than the alternative option.
“Yes,” I answered simply with a shrug.
“Those were made by some of the finest craftsmen in the city,” he rebuked, and I felt myself cringe involuntarily.
I’m sure they were expensive, but I couldn’t stand the hardness of them. They were nothing like a pair that a certain grumpy General had gifted to me. A pair that I kept hidden beneath my bed for reasons I didn’t want to think about—tossing such an expensive pair of boots seemed wasteful.
Wasteful. Right.
“You should have had Yanni make her a pair. Or she could have worn the pair I gave her. They would have worked fine for today.” That smoother-than-whiskey voice washed over me, and I felt my dark cheeks pink slightly at his attention.
I still refused to look at him.
“Bah. It doesn’t matter now,” Lord d’Refan said with a wave of his arm around the space.
I shifted nervously on my feet, especially as I took a quick glance at Rohak.
He wasn’t looking at me, thank the gods, but his gaze was dark.
Moody. He was always a bit grumpy and closed off, but this was different.
It was almost hatred? Though that seemed too strong a word.
Animosity? Disproval?
I couldn’t pin the emotion completely, and it was gone from his face before I could try to discern further.
“Indeed,” Rohak said blandly as he took a small sip of whiskey.
I fidgeted with my hands as my gaze tracked around the room, unsure why I was called here.
“Rune Master, please sit,” Lord d’Refan said as he gestured to the open chair to my right. I gave him a quick smile in thanks before I sank into the chair, balancing just on the cushion’s edge.
“You can call me Fay, Lord d’Refan,” I reminded him for the thousandth time.
“And you can call me Alois. Until that happens, I’ll continue to use your formal title,” he said with a shrug, and my lips pulled into a line that I hoped resembled a smile.
Fat chance of that happening. In no way did I want any sort of familiarity with this man.
“What did you call us here for, Alois? I have business I need to attend to,” Rohak clipped out, his eyes focused on me, and I squirmed under his intense scrutiny.
What is he doing?
“Yes, yes. Still the same business-first, pleasure-never friend, eh?” he teased, though Rohak didn’t smile.
Lord d’Refan let out an exaggerated sigh before draining his whiskey completely.
“Old friend, you and I have some . . . catching up to do on our own, later. For now, I wanted to pull you both here to discuss two things—Life Bonds and my wife.”
Rohak and I wore similar expressions of confusion, our brows furrowed over our eyes.
Why would he want to discuss both of those things in tandem?
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of Life Bonding your wife?” Rohak scoffed with so much derision that I winced. Whether he was angry about the Life Bonds, Alois’ choice of wife, or a combination thereof, I wasn’t sure. But it definitely set him on edge.
Alois simply hummed before tossing back the remainder of his whiskey.
“It’s obvious to everyone at this point that Ellowyn is not .
. . doing well,” He grimaced and passed the empty whiskey glass from hand to hand.
The sunlight drifting through the expansive windows caught on the glass tumbler, shooting rainbows across the room.
Not wanting to look at Lord d’Refan and unable to look at the enigmatic man across from me, I chose instead to follow the colors as they bounced around the study.
Rohak scoffed quietly as he leaned back in his armchair. The move was smooth and, though his pose mimicked complete ease, the tensing of his muscles told a different story.
Pre-Hestin Rohak would never have spoken to his longtime friend in this fashion, at least in front of other people. The nearly imperceptible frown and tightening of his shoulders showed that Lord d’Refan wasn’t the only person confused by Rohak’s demeanor.
The General had changed over the last six months, and not just physically.
“Of course she’s not doing well, Alois,” Rohak said, his voice tired and tinged with a hint of annoyance.
“You forced her to kill either her brother or childhood friend, imprisoned her parents, whisked her away to Vespera, and locked her in the manor. You restricted her access to her magic, which literally feels like a piece of your soul is missing. Did I forget anything?” Rohak paused and pretended to think while Lord d’Refan and I stared, agape.
It wasn’t often that I felt anything other than wariness toward Lord d’Refan, but now, hearing his friend’s tirade, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of embarrassment and shock on his behalf.
“Did you even ask her if this is what she wanted?” Rohak asked.
The silence after Rohak’s accusing question was deafening. Sometime during his friend’s speech, Lord d’Refan had stopped twirling the whiskey glass in his hands, the rainbows I’d eagerly traced with my eyes halted in their dance.
“Tell me how you really feel, Rohak,” Lord d’Refan grumbled quietly with a shake of his head.
He chuffed a self-deprecating laugh before closing his eyes and tossing his head back.
His whole body seemed to vibrate with tension and barely restrained anger, and I fought the urge to spring from my perch on the armchair’s cushion and flee to my room, where I’d be safe from this provoked predator.
All at once, Lord d’Refan’s head snapped forward as the hand holding his empty whiskey glass wound up behind his back.
In a motion nearly too quick to track, Lord d’Refan loosed the glass at the opposite wall.
It sailed through the air, rainbows of light spitting in quick patterns across the bookcases as it flew, before connecting with the unforgiving stone.
A deafening crack broke the blanket of silence before shards of glass tinkled as they came to rest on the floor.
“FUCK!” Lord d’Refan shouted, and I unintentionally flinched.
Rohak’s emerald eyes flicked to me once before resettling on his friend.
“Fuck, Rohak! You don’t think I know all of that?
! That what I did to her . . .” Lord d’Refan trailed off as his hands wound into his black strands, gripping tight.
He released his hair before striding aggressively toward Rohak, flinging a menacing finger in his face.
“Everything that I’ve done, every shitty decision I’ve made since we were boys had a purpose! A reason! A reason you damn well know, General,” he roared, spittle flying to land on Rohak’s perfectly pressed tunic. “Do you think I wanted to do those things to her?”
Not once during Lord d’Refan’s tirade did Rohak flinch or blink.
He simply watched his closest friend unravel with an unwavering intensity.
I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a conversation that was much too private.
There was something between these two powerful men—something broken—that couldn’t be fixed with me in the room.
“I think—no, I know you have an agenda, Alois. Where these actions fall in that agenda, I am woefully uninformed. Perhaps you could shed some light on it for me.” His statement commanded authority, even with the Lord of Vespera looming over him.
The intensity caused bumps of arousal to erupt over my skin.
Why is that so hot?
“Fuck, Rohak,” Lord d’Refan said, quieter now as he dropped the finger from Rohak’s face. He paced back to the bar cart, procuring a new tumbler before filling it full. He sipped from it leisurely, his back heaving with each breath.
Rohak and I waited in stilted silence.
“Things have . . . changed. Drastically,” he muttered the last word while sipping from his glass again.
“I have to know, Rune Master,” Lord d’Refan continued with forced calm. “Is it possible?”
I jumped slightly at being addressed and at the sudden change in conversation.
“Is—” I coughed to clear my throat. “Is what possible, sir?”
“Can she be Life Bonded even though she has no need for a Vessel?”
Rohak’s eyes snapped to me, the intensity of his stare a heady thing that nearly had me squirming both in discomfort and arousal.
I had a choice, now, to either tell Lord d’Refan about my research and predictions, or continue to keep them locked safe and away. My eyes unbiddenly found Rohak’s, and I searched his cold gaze for something—anything.
After a moment’s pause that felt like a lifetime, Rohak narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly.
“No,” I rushed out, making my decision, my eyes never leaving Rohak. “No, it’s not possible. A Mage must Bond a Vessel for it to work.” I tried to infuse as much conviction in my voice as possible.
I couldn’t describe the feeling I got when I saw an ounce of approval in Rohak’s glare.
It settled something in my soul, sparking hope that we could return to what we were before.
Rohak was my confidant—the person I could tell all of my crazy musings to without fear of judgement or rebuke.
I also knew that Rohak would take my findings to his grave, unless I gave him permission to share with others.
How nice it would be to have someone to share the burden of information with again.
Lord d’Refan spun around, his normally erratic eyes trained unnervingly on me, searching for any sign of deception.
He grunted.
“You tell no lies,” he admitted with a begrudging acceptance, and I inwardly sighed with relief, nearly forgetting that he was a Truthsayer—the last Truthsayer. His power to detect truths and lies was unheard of and unerringly correct.
Lying to him should be impossible.
But, somehow, I just did.
The why, though, was completely unknown and just another puzzle I needed to solve. I was already overwhelmed with the number of secrets I needed to unearth—what was one more?
I have to get into that Academy library . . . and soon.
“Then I would ask, Rune Master, that you keep an eye on her for me. She could use a female friend. One who is not her maid. Perhaps draw a few health runes on her if you can or something,” he muttered, and I gave him a curt nod. “You’re dismissed.”
Lord d’Refan’s posture was rigid as he gestured for me to leave.
“I expect updates,” he called as I opened the door out of the study.
“As you command,” I replied, relieved to be leaving that stifling study and Rohak d’Alvey’s heated gaze.