Chapter 18 A Mother’s Daughter
EIGHTEEN
A MOTHER’S DAUGHTER
I thought Zilo would lead us back to the dining hall. I wish he would have.
Instead, we stand bathing beneath the light of the full moon.
And that’s what makes tonight so frightening.
My Goddess Moon blesses supernaturals. The fae, the shifters, even the once great and mighty dragons feel the moon’s gifts.
We’re strongest during the full moon. I think that’s what makes Creatchin so terrifying in this moment.
She, too, is at worship tonight.
An older, slender figure is at her side, her willowy limbs making her appear more like a spider than a fae. I didn’t think anyone could be more terrifying and more dangerous than the Queen of Hell but the Queen’s mother does make a good effort for second place.
Both of them stand palms up toward the moon. Creatchin’s head is tilted back so far, I can see lines creasing the thin column of her pale neck. Those big eyes of hers are like black holes staring up at my goddess. Whispers scurry from her lips like snakes sliding through grass.
“Confide in me?” she asks on a harsh dry breath to the wind.
“Tell me who? Have I found them. I will find them, Goddess. It is my duty to you. I’ll use them as we need .
. .” It’s a rattling string of questions and vows spoken over and over again.
They slither over the fine hairs on the back of my neck until a shiver runs through every part of me. “Telllll me.”
“Mother,” a slender woman whispers gently.
Mother?
The woman’s horns are dark as night, just like all the other hell fae but her dress hangs loosely around the finest glittering black wings.
Not all of the fae have them. Some have hooves.
Some horns. And some wings. But none of them are as alluring as her wings.
Moonlight beams over the silver-pressed edges of the delicate arching tips, and they just seem to make the beautiful woman more deadly looking.
“M—m—Creatchin,” she says louder, more brutally.
The queen’s spine stiffens, and she looks back at the few of us who are keeping our space. We’re closer to the black bricks of the castle walls than we are to our righteous ruler.
Her gaze looks from the girl who called her mother very briefly before passing to gaze hesitantly at the others. It’s a scared but determined look. A look that won’t admit any wrongdoing or . . . mental instability, I suppose.
She avoids the questioning gazes and instead swings her attention to where we stand. And she focuses solely on one of us.
“Zilo.” Her chin lifts higher as if the crown on her head should be greatly noticed. “Zilo, please escort me to our chambers. We have much business to discuss for our queendom.”
Queendom. Goddess, do I hate how she emphasizes that at all times.
I hate how she barks Zilo around even more though.
“Of course, my queen.” The strong and unyielding warrior of the High Hell bows low to her, but she snatches up his arm and sways along with him in tow.
She holds on to him like he steadies her.
I don’t know why that punches through my gut hard enough to steal my breath away.
And I don’t know why I can’t look away from them as they leave.
Only when I’m safely back in my bedroom do I dare consider any of tonight. Avian and Roman shed their clothes and don’t seem at all fazed by any of it. They’re content with their life, it seems.
They don’t seem alarmed by their queen’s unstable mentality at all.
“Who was that girl? The one who called Creatchin mother.” I pace the floors while Roman literally flops into bed. He’s all but checked out.
“Vanitee. Creatchin’s daughter,” Avian answers as he pulls back the blankets on the opposite side of the bed and slides in.
“Was she Ravar’s daughter?” I tilt my head, but neither of them is up for chatting. They’re simply tolerating me at the moment.
“No,” Roman grumbles.
“Creatchin doesn’t act like she’s any relation to her at all . . .” My fingers twirl through my hair, and I can’t let any of it go. We shouldn’t be letting this go! “What was Creatchin whispering to Goddess Moon about? About finding someone?”
Both men sigh, Roman twisting around to lie on his back and finally face me.
“Blow out the candle, and I’ll tell you a bedtime story, beautiful,” he says on a delicious rumble that strums all through me.
Damn. Who knew words could induce orgasms.
“O—okay.” I huff a breath and blow out the two candles on the table near the settee.
It’s so dark, I stumble against the smooth hardwood floor before a calloused hand guides me to the edge of the bed.
A warm body meets me and presses nicely against me as Roman pulls me down beneath the warm blankets.
My head never hits that soft pillow, though. Instead, he wraps me in his arms, and I’m surrounded by that hard and comforting strength of his body. The gentle weight of his head skims against my hair, and his breath fans my locks as he seems to breathe me in.
It feels good to be held by him and just have that sense that nothing will ever touch me inside the warmth of his arms.
“Once upon a time,” he says on a soothing tone. I can’t help but smile. He’s never this sweet. I don’t understand it for a second.
But I love it. So fucking much it shivers emotions all through my chest.
“Once upon a time, the most powerful supernaturals in all the realms were offered the crown of Hell in exchange for their fearless protection of our people. Our people are hated, misunderstood, murdered just for being creatures of Hell. And for a long while, that stopped. We were safe because of that exchange that was made centuries ago. Until the marriage between a rare dragon shifter and the queen of Hell was poisoned. The queen became hell-bent on the power her realm possessed. And she took a lover who craved her affection as much as she craved power.”
“Ravar,” I whisper.
His smooth arms wrap tighter around me, his fingers skimming over my stomach for a single second before he halts and simply holds me . . . like a lover.
“Yes. Ravar loved the queen. And her love destroyed him. He hunted those supernaturals, spread rumors of the terror they would bring our realm, just as they did the others. He killed many of them. His army killed even more. And with time . . . he slaughtered the queen’s husband.
The husband who she loved because of his power.
And that ruined what Ravar and his Queen had between them.
Because he was wrong to think she loved him.
She never loved either of them. She loved power. ”
It’s hard to hear the hint of sadness in his tone. He’s more gentle with me since the death of his brother. It’s like he’s finally able to lower his guard just a little. Deep down, he’s loving.
I never knew this beautifully broken man knew anything about love.
Maybe, just maybe, he does.
“After Ravar realized he’d ruined their love, he exiled the queen.
The Night Witch he deemed her. And accepted the love of his people.
His cruelty never ceased. Her hunger for power never stopped—even today.
All that came of their toxic love was the destruction of a nearly an entire race of supernaturals. ”
My brows pull together hard . . .
“Dragons?”
“Dragons,” Avian echoes on a tired tone. “Ravar made sure they were never seen again.” His voice is still that sweet sound of gentleness.
He isn’t filled with sadness the way his friend is.
They’re different in that way.
“She believes there are still dragons in this world, and she wants them to restore the power she once had,” Roman says, and when he lowers his head, he nuzzles along my neck in the slowest inhale that drives me absolutely insane.
Focus! Focus, Cersia!
“There are tales of dragon’s not far from my land. Not many. But a few. Are there dragons here, in Hell?” I ask, turning in his arms to try to regain my poor stupid attention span.
“I’ve heard there are a few in the Upper Realm. Not here though. The High Hell have hunted their kind through all the realms under Ravar’s rule for centuries. Zilo could tell you about them. But I’ve never seen one.” Roman’s breath kisses my flesh as his long steady fingers trace my lips.
My poor, poor fucking attention span. I mourn the loss of it every time he touches me.
“I haven’t either,” I confess on a weak and wavering sigh.
Why does he do this to me? I’m trying to figure out what kind of danger this psychotic queen is capable of. And all I can think about is how good Roman tasted that one time we gave in to the messy emotions he always gives me.
I’m a mess. This realm is a fucking mess.
Perhaps it is safer than it was when Ravar ruled. But I just want to know for sure.
I have to know! For Nyra’s sake.
“What about—”
“Shhh,” Roman whispers, his lips so close to mine, I can feel the heat of his mouth against mine. “Get some rest, beautiful.”
I roll my eyes, but the moment he says it, pure exhaustion sinks into me.
I am tired. I’m so fucking tired of all the endless questions and concerns I have about Creatchin.
I thought she was the rightful ruler. But why did she keep me from my sister? Why has she conditioned us to be so leery of one another now?
The tension in me relaxes in his strong arms. The heat of Roman’s body feels so good. The safety he presses around me, that feels incredible. He’s strong like Zilo but he’s soft too. Aggressive but comforting. It’s like he knows what it’s like to need someone’s touch just to feel whole.
And with time, my eyes do close as I settle against him.
My thoughts wander as my consciousness slips away.
And I dream of magic, old magic of centuries past. Ancient fae magic, nature magic, dragon magic, all of it. I feel it. The power of it so intense, it’s like waves of pleasure.
Familiar pleasure.
With that thought, for some asinine reason, I dream of Roman and Avian as well.
And even…
Zilo.