24. Specter of the Past
~ GRACE ~
After Donavyn was angered by Voski and shoved him out of the stable, I was worried.
But Bren assured me, it was how the men dealt with each other.
She’d urged me to come with her to the dining hall to eat while they sorted it out.
She seemed unhappy, but not afraid. And I didn’t know what else to do. Voski was so angry again.
“Donavyn will handle it,” Bren said confidently, though her expression was weary. “Leave them to it. I want to hear your story. Did he really deny the bond and not even take you during the heat?!” she said, shocked.
Reluctantly, I left the stable with her and made our way toward the buildings.
I tried to tell her the story, but struggled to keep my train of thought.
I could feel Voski—angry, afraid, humbled, sick…
I kept looking back over my shoulder in the direction of the stables.
I could feel Voski struggling. Wrestling. Resisting… and then softening.
I was so distracted when I felt the shift in him, I stopped walking, and Bren turned, looking concerned.
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure.” We stood on the path just outside the main building courtyard. Men approached from four different directions, all them in pursuit of the warm scents that flowed out of the dining hall every time the doors were opened.
Then, as I considered going back, I felt Koa alarm, at the same time shouts rose around us. I was sending to her and watching back the way we’d come, when a thick hand landed on my arm, and a deep voice muttered, “There you are.”
Half-expecting Ronen had somehow found out about our subterfuge regarding our absence, and already mentally preparing my pleas for forgiveness, I turned—and froze at the sight of a handsome, richly dressed man, thirty years my senior, with gray at his temples, and an expression of angry satisfaction on his lined face.
Lord Breckon.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The man to whom my father promised me.
“How did you—?” I breathed, but I couldn’t get the sentence out before he gave a savage smile and a mocking bow.
“My Lady Grace, how satisfying to finally see you again.”
I gaped, my head empty, as Bren stared at me. “Grace? Who is this man?”
“This is Lord B-Breckon,” I faltered on the word.
Bren’s brow furrowed, but she turned to him and pasted on the manners I’d seen her use in Fyrehold, her expression wary. “It is lovely to meet you, of course, Lord Breckon. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure before?”
“You wouldn’t have, of course,” he said, his smile fading. “The Lady Grace hasn’t seen fit to introduce me or inform me of her whereabouts so I might introduce myself.”
Bren looked from him to me, and my heart sank.
How had he learned I was here? All the way in Vosgaarde? I’d told no one. “Lord Breckon is my… that is…”
“Her betrothed,” he supplied.
Bren’s brows shot up. “That’s—but… what?!”
I opened my mouth to explain, but Lord Breckon was clearly not in the mood for niceties, he tightened his grip on my bicep and dragged me into the courtyard. “My carriage is this way.”
“What?” I blinked, then braced my feet, pulling him to a halt. “No!”
He turned on me, his expression fierce, probably because I’d shouted the word, which caught the attention of the men following.
We were suddenly surrounded in a bubbling crowd, some asking questions, others making demands, Bren trying to explain—and Breckon firmly refusing to let me go.
To my relief, our squad brothers surrounded us, so even when he turned as if he’d just pull me bodily across the stones, there was no space to move.
And the crowd grew. My head spun. I reached out for Koa. ‘Koa, please. Tell Kham I need Voski!’
‘We come.’
She and Kham had already been out when we woke this morning, but the image she sent was of them flying fast.
“Take your fucking hands off her, you—”
I almost wept when Voski finally appeared, shoving through the crowd, Gil in his wake, and was caught by Ronen.
But of course, Breckon had no interest in these men. They were commoners in his eyes, and held no influence over kings.
My heart swelled when Voski snarled, but I was also terrified Breckon would accuse him of a crime. I wasn’t sure if the laws were the same in Vosgaarde. But in Fyrehold, a common man assaulting a Lord would be thrown into chains.
“—she’s my mate. My One. Our dragons are bonded. By divine appointment, her place is here.”
My mouth dropped open as every Furyknight around us snapped their heads to stare at Voski… claiming me?!
“That’s a very pretty speech, young man, but irrelevant. Our marriage contract was witnessed by the King of Fyrehold himself.”
My heart sank as the fire in Voski’s eyes rose. I tried to reach him through the link, almost weeping with frustration when my words couldn’t get through, yet he continued to push reassurance to me through the bond.
‘Just breathe. I love you. And I’ll protect you to my dying breath. I swear it.’
Voski’s eyes were pained whenever he glanced at me, and furious when he stared at Breckon.
The men argued, and I knew I should speak. Should resist. Should fight. But I stared at my mate, frozen in a tidal wave of love-strangled fear, my dragon now circling overhead, chittering to me because she’d lost her words in her disquiet at my fear, and the men all growing angrier.
Everything was wrong.
I swallowed a sob and began to fight. Clawing at Breckon’s fingers, trying desperately to pry his grip from my arm.
I wasn’t going back. I didn’t care if Koa and I had to flee. Or hide for the rest of my life. As long as Voski was with me, as long as we remained. I couldn’t go back.
But Breckon barely registered my touch, looking down his nose at the men, and curling his lip in a sneer whenever he spoke of me.
He is a firm man, but he loves to ride, just as you do, Grace. You’ll find your connection in that, I’m sure.
My father’s words reached me across the events of the last few months.
I’d had no idea what waited for me.
I should never have agreed.
I hadn’t wanted to agree, and he knew it. But the estate was failing, and I was the only child.
“Perhaps there’s been some mistake,” Ronen said quietly. “Why don’t you join us at the Academy? We can review—”
“There will be no review. It is a mere courtesy that I speak to you. She has led us on a merry chase, and clearly seduced you all as well. She’s a known troublemaker, and I came with the approval of our king.
I’ll encourage her to send letters of apology for whatever trouble she’s caused once we’re home and settled. ”
He didn’t wait for a response, but turned on his heel, dragging me with him as he extended his free hand ahead of him and plowed through the men who wavered, uncertain if they had right to stop him.
But none of them did.
“No… no!” I gasped, clawing at his hand. “I’m not—I won’t—”
“Let her go!” Voski snarled behind me. I twisted to look over my shoulder, to plead with him not to hurt anyone—only to see him caught mid-leap by Ronen and Gil, one on each arm.
“…Dear Lord, you’re a dramatic lot, aren’t you? I paid good money to marry her, and she won’t leave my sight until we are married and she’s with child. Perhaps later she can return to play with your dragons again. But until she’s bred, she remains with me.”
I sobbed, and struggled harder, tears on my cheeks now as Voski lost all control, and was tackled by our brothers. It took four of them to take him to ground.
Voski cursed. The men shouted. Koa and Kham screamed overhead, and more dragons gathered.
I fought, bracing my heels in an attempt to stop our forward motion, but Breckon was a strong man.
He worked with horses, hunted regularly, and managed his own stables.
I was drawn inexorably forward, scrambling, one moment looking back, pleading with Voski to stop, because Breckon would charge him, I knew.
And simultaneously praying he’d find a way to remove this man from me, remove me from him, remove the threat—take me back.
“Grace! GRACE!”
“Stop—Voski, fucking stop!”
His scream tore my heart in two and I fought like a cat—grabbing, clawing, spitting, uncaring how it looked or sounded.
I would not go. I could not leave. He could not take me from my mate!
Breckon swore and gripped me so tightly, I felt the dig of his nails, even through the leather. I vaguely registered a fine carriage, and nervous horses trying to bolt, but held by tall, expressionless footmen who wouldn’t help.
Panic sang in my heart, and blinded me as I wrestled and twisted, trying to run back to Voski, who continued to bellow and roar, and was being held down by our brothers, while Bren stood between us and them, looking back and forth, her face pained.
“Let her go!” she barked, storming after us. “Let her go!”
Breckon glanced over his shoulder, but scoffed—then slid to a halt before running into a broad, leather-clad chest.
“Lord Breckon, is it?” Donavyn’s voice was low, calm, and edged with warning. “I’m Donavyn Arsen. General Donavyn Arsen.”
My heart flipped in my chest. “General, please—Lord Breckon is from Fyrehold and—”
“Silence!” the Lord snapped. I jerked, sucking in a breath to scream at him—until Donavyn shot me a look and I snapped my mouth closed. But I didn’t stop trying to pull free.
Breckon turned back to Donavyn, and I saw him hesitate. Donavyn was younger, but carried the air and authority of a man at his peak. No doubt Breckon had heard his name, and understood his rank.
“She is my betrothed, and here by duplicitous means.”
“I assure you, the dragons are far from duplicitous, and Grace was Chosen. As you can see, Koa is very concerned.” He pointed over our heads. Breckon eyed the dragons warily.
“You call the beasts off,” he muttered. “She is my betrothed. I have a contract with her father.”
“She’s a Flameborne, and in training.”
Donavyn’s tone was so resolute, spoke so certainly of my position here, for a split second, I thought Breckon would concede.
But then he raised his chin and braced himself.
“In that case, once she has married me and given birth, she may return to complete her training if she wishes to do so. But until then, if you’ll excuse me, we have a great deal of travel ahead of us, and an heir to produce.”
I thought it was Koa who screamed, the shriek jangled in my head with such volume.
But it was me.