Chapter 23 Grayson
Part of me hoped that with the house empty and a plan in place, Quentin would be willing to talk. But she skirted around the house, watching me from a careful distance and trying to control the chaos that was brewing inside of her.
It felt right to sense her again. There was a signature undercurrent of chaos that Quen possessed and it spoke to me at such a level that I should have known she was my bound long before I ever found out.
I wanted to force her to talk. Take up all of her space until she had no other option but to forgive me.
But if I did that, and she didn’t straighten her thoughts in time for our meeting with Hunter, I ran the risk of losing her in some way, and that was enough to keep me silent.
Instead, I satisfied myself by begrudgingly stalking her whenever she was close enough.
It pleased me how she still moved with ease throughout our home.
How it responded to her by turning handles and surfaces gold.
She was still mine, whether or not she was ready to admit it.
Pulling gloves on, I sat in the kitchen and began to prepare the oleander. Quen took the seat opposite me. Her eyes focused on the flowers as I slowly destroyed them. She yawned, barely hiding it behind her hand.
“Why don’t you go to bed?” I suggested, pausing my work momentarily.
“I don’t think—” She yawned again. “—that I’ll be able to sleep.”
I placed the flower in the bowl in front of me and looked up at her. “You must be exhausted with everything that’s happened over the last few days.”
“If I’m honest, I don’t really know how I feel.”
“Hmm. You always have struggled to articulate your feelings if it’s anything other than anger.”
She tossed a full biscuit at my head. It smacked me between the eyes before dropping onto the table.
Quen’s lips trembled as she tried to suppress a laugh.
Her beauty was unmatched; sitting with her legs crossed on the chair, a large mug of coffee in front of her, and glowing gold from the prayers she was being offered.
Her ring finger was bare sparking hope in my chest. If I were a painter, I would have captured her likeness so as to never forget it.
“Hilarious. I’ll have you know that custard creams are now banned from our household.”
“You can’t do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because you deserved it.”
We lapsed into silence again and I picked up the flower to work, but it was useless. I could sense her rising anxiety.
“What is it that’s bothering you, golden girl?”
“Apart from the fact your brother is a psychopath and plunged us into war over my existence?”
“He takes control freak to a whole new level,” I mused with a hum. “But yes, aside from that, what is on your mind?”
“I’m worried about Cass and Sophie.” A beat of silence and then, “And James and Charlie. Gareth. I didn’t even get to see Sal.”
“Quentin, are you telling me you are worried about every mortal on Earth?”
“Not all of them. Just the ones I’m close to.”
“Why are you worried about them?”
“There’s so much that’s going wrong down there. I want them to be safe, Gray.”
“They will be.”
“I want to be able to see them again. To go to Charlie’s wedding. To spend time with my family.”
“You’re homesick,” I said, finally pinpointing the issue behind her anxiety.
She dropped her gaze to the table. “I don’t know if I would call it that. Y… This is my home.”
I caught her correction. Quentin Scott had too much pride to bend first, and that was fine. I would grovel at her feet the moment we were done with the minor inconvenience that was my older brother.
“But it is not the place that holds good memories for you,” I clarified as I set the flower down again. “It is not the place you grew up in or the place that holds all those who are dear to you. For example, you have never had to question Cass’s loyalty, but Erik’s…”
“I trust Erik, but we’re all wired to look after ourselves first up here.”
“It is a trait that serves us well in our environment. You would call it some sort of behavioural advantage.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about acclimatising to Elysia.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I asked Cassidy for your hand, I told him I would move to Earth to be with you.”
Quentin lifted her head, locking her eyes with mine. “You’d leave Elysia? What about if you become leader?”
I shrugged. “I will figure it out. Your comfort is more important. I know Cass means a lot to you, which is why I told him I would move.”
In the silence that followed, I noted how her anxiety subsided, no longer calling to my responsibilities. Her eyes filled with tears before she blinked them away.
“You have nothing to worry about, Quentin,” I assured her.
“Thank you.” The words came out as a whisper. “I think I might go up to bed.” Stubbornness was often beaten by awkwardness. She pushed her chair back and rose, golden tendrils lazily drifting in the air around her. “Will you be coming up soon?”
“In a little bit,” I answered her honestly. “I’ll finish this and then I might go for a walk on the grounds.”
“I don’t want you out there, Gray.” The worry laced her words. “It’s not safe.”
“It’s still our property. Nothing will happen to me.”
“Okay.”
She lingered, as if wanting to say something more, but quietly left me to my fatal creation.
By the time I had finished soaking the blade in as much of the oleander as possible and taken my walk around the grounds, it had crept into a new day.
Sleep evaded me and instead I paced the house, but the urge to find Quentin grew stronger as the hours passed.
Eventually, I gave in to my desires and climbed the stairs, heading directly to our bedroom.
Quentin laid in bed, her eyes closed and the covers tangled around her frame. There was a crease between her eyebrows. Always thinking, even when she should be at peace. I was meant to bring her peace in the way she brought it to me.
Carefully, I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to take my eyes off her.
The golden glow was as strong as it had been when she first appeared in the hallway with Andreas.
Whatever she had done or said, the mortals had clearly listened.
They believed in her and were putting their all into praying to her.
“You are a force to be reckoned with, Quentin Scott,” I whispered, pushing some hair away from her face.
My fingers skimmed her cheek gently as I wondered if there would ever be a point in time where I was not in awe of this woman. Regardless of what came her way, she maintained enough composure to plan and carry out the steps that were needed for survival.
I pulled my fingers away as the burning heat of shame consumed me. I was her bound. I was meant to protect her and bring her peace. And yet, I had been a cause of her pain.
Chaos. Destruction. Vengeance.
Everything I touched was tinged with my responsibilities.
Even when I had the best intentions, I still managed to douse my actions in the darkness that was inside of me.
It had never bothered me as much as it had since Quentin walked into my life.
Her love and acceptance were like a drug. I craved it.
Dropping my head into my hands, I pulled at my hair. She should have been safe in her bed at home. She should have been planning dinners with her brother and bickering with James in the lab. Instead, she was preparing to face off against my brother.
I lifted my head and looked at her again.
I wouldn’t allow it.
Quentin would not stand across from Hunter in a few hours’ time.
No one would.
Getting to my feet slowly, I leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. Quen hummed and turned over, curling herself up. For a moment, I thought about her gift and how useful it would be, but I would never take it without her permission. Never betray her trust like that.
“I’ll be back for you. I promise,” I told her softly.
I padded out of the room and went to my study.
I hoped they would all forgive me for what I was about to do, but this was never their war.
None of this boiled down to Erik or Elva or Ignacio.
The rest of the council had been pulled into an argument that had been raging on for years.
Quentin wasn’t the cause, as she believed, but merely the tipping point.
This war was personal. It came down to me and Hunter, and that was how it would end.
Sitting down at my desk, I drafted a quick letter.
If I knew my big brother at all, then he would be awake, pacing and stalking and planning his moves with military precision.
As I sent the letter off, I hoped that his predictability hadn’t changed.
And, without waiting for a response, I went downstairs, grabbed the pocketknife laced with oleander, and soundlessly left my home.
Standing up on the cliffs, I let myself feed off the chaos that pounded through the air.
The storm was raging, and I wanted to be in the eye of it.
For it to begin and end with me. The rain was icy.
Heavy drops hit the ground with such force that it left dents that grew until they formed puddles.
Bright flashes of lightning and deep rumbles of thunder rolled out across Elysia as the Gods fought.
I let go of the last constraints of my control and became vengeance.
The blue bled away from my irises until nothing but black was left, and my aura pulsed around me, breathing steadily as we waited.
My toes curled inside my shoes, grounding me, and my clothes stuck to my skin.
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood to attention.
Years ago, at the peak of the last war, I was reckless.
I took orders and dived into the mess without too much of a thought.
Not until it my friends were at risk. And even then, I hadn’t done enough.