Chapter 11
SEAN
“Of all people,” Sean said as Isobel marched him from his father’s quarters, “it had to be David Berkeley.”
Isobel sighed, slowing several floors down, spiraling around and around the large atrium below. “I shouldn’t be surprised you already know each other. The Light always has us where we’re supposed to be.”
She talked about the Light like they spoke of their Great Mother. Like it was an omniscient deity they worshipped.
Perhaps they did.
Maybe this was one big cult.
She lowered her voice. “Has he always been so—”
“Dickish?”
The tiniest smile graced her face. “I was going to say provoking.”
“He knows exactly what to say to get under your skin.”
“Hmm. Galadaine wasn’t like that.”
He’s not Galadaine, Sean thought. Because if she expected David to be like his ancestor, then she’d expect that of Sean as well. He couldn’t have those beliefs piled atop his shoulders. It was too much. He’d crumble under the weight of expectation.
Her expression took on a troubled cast. “Let’s change the subject. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Alright. Where are we going?” he asked because he also didn’t want to talk about David.
David, for all intents and purposes, could go fuck himself.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Ominous.
Outside, the sun was high in the sky, puffy white clouds mingling with sparks of rainbows, but Sean’s gaze dipped instead to the curves swaying beneath Isobel’s jade dress. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he shake this? It was like she’d flipped some switch in his head.
The libido switch.
He hated it.
He trailed her through the forest, far from anything and anyone. The only sounds came from the chittering birds, the wind rustling leaves.
And her footsteps. Slow and methodical.
Welcome to the show.
The history he’d learned replayed through his head, and with it, new memories filled in strange details he’d not thought possible. Cheerful recollections of Lhynion’s brother conflicted with Sean’s real-life knowledge of David Berkeley.
They were brothers. They just…had different ideas. And fell in love with the same woman.
What was he supposed to do with that? Their shared history didn’t change their turbulent past.
But other memories were creeping up as well. Memories of a girl who looked too much like Isobel. Meléan had been beautiful like her. Lovely, but flawed. Volatile. Spoiled.
“Say you love me more than him, my love.”
“Do not make me choose, for I fear you’ll not like my answer.”
After a time, Isobel turned to face him, expression tight. “There’s more you need to know.”
Sean leaned a shoulder against a tree beside him and held a hand out in invitation, though he wasn’t certain how much more he could take.
She fingered the vial at her neck and slid it up and down the chain.
It had changed from when he’d first studied the delicate charm.
Now violet and scarlet swirled together inside.
At his interest, Isobel dropped the vial. “You’ve learned our history, so let’s talk about our future.”
He pointed at her jewelry. “Start with that. What’s the necklace?”
She hesitated, her chest swelling with a deep breath before she said, “It’s—your life.”
Sean blinked, cold tendrils sprouting around his throat. “What?”
“You heard the story. When Lhynion died, he died for Meléan.”
A brief image of a sword aimed for him flashed through his mind and disappeared.
“The part we didn’t tell you is that as he died, Meléan swore she’d repay him.” Bel clamped her bottom lip between her teeth.
“She’d repay him? Repay a life?”
Bel paced away, arms crossed. “They call it a blood debt. It’s old magic—rarely used, not well understood. But Meléan was impulsive and sometimes unwise.”
“Stupid.” He pushed off the tree. “I think stupid is the better word.”
Bel paused to scowl at him.
Attempting to ease the insult with a chuckle, Sean smoothed a finger over the wrinkle in her brow, then wrung out his hand at the burn. “Why does it hurt to touch you?”
A faint smile appeared, followed by a bitter laugh.
“It’s all part of the deal. The healing magic Meléan created is all-powerful.
It bleeds through my skin, and my kiss is a huge amount of it.
If you’re unhurt, the magic has nowhere to go, nothing to do, and if it’s not blocked in some way, it builds up and causes pain.
It’s just…part of my fate. Your destiny is to lead this realm away from destruction.
My destiny…” She looked away, pursing her lips.
He angled his head to catch her attention. “Your destiny?”
Her gaze wandered back to his. “Is you.”
Above him, birds chirped. The light of the sun imparted a deep gold quality to the world around him. All of it disappeared as the gravity of what she meant settled on his shoulders. “Me?”
She flopped her arms out in a helpless gesture. “She swore to repay a life, and here I am, your protector.”
“What could I possibly need protection from?”
The emerald of her eyes clouded, secrets hidden behind a guarded expression. She drew breath, dithering before answering. “There are predictions you’ll face a great deal of danger.”
Exhausted by the constant secrets, Sean studied her face, wondering how much she wasn’t saying. He didn’t know this girl, not really, but more memories appeared in his head—memories of her smile, her kiss, her voice whispering love into his ear.
He kept his tone even. “You’re telling me that a woman who lived one thousand years ago promised a dying man she’d repay him a life, so now you have to die for me?”
The thin wobble in her voice barely registered. “Blood debts are binding. Your great-grandfather gave his life for my grandmother, so I offer mine for you.”
A portion of his frustration expelled in a short sigh. “This can’t be real life.”
“Magic like this travels through bloodlines, Sean. After Meléan swore the oath, the vial of Lhynion’s blood was passed down through my line.
When you were born, my mother bound it in silver and placed it around my neck.
Now it can’t be removed.” She yanked hard on the necklace, only succeeding in digging the metal into her skin.
“The liquid inside is no longer blood. It channels you, connects us to each other.”
He didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.
“I don’t pretend to understand it,” she said, dropping her gaze to the ground.
All those soft curls fell around her face, framing it perfectly.
Her bronze skin gleamed in the sunshine.
He could have made a list of everything he found most attractive in a woman, and the amalgamation would not have come close to this one’s beauty.
Sean tried not to let that distract him.
Being beautiful didn’t make her any less vulnerable, and judging by the crease in her brow, the way she nibbled at her full lower lip, the person inside that exquisite facade was nervous.
“So how are you supposed to protect me, then?” he asked. “I don’t want a bodyguard.”
A blush rose to her cheeks. “It’s so silly.”
He waited, letting her gather her thoughts.
She toed the ground. “The debt essentially recreates the relationship Lhynion and Meléan had.”
His voice went lifeless. “Recreates how?”
Irritation sharpened her words. “I know you’re not this dense.”
“I’m sorry.” He gestured in her general direction. “You’re standing here, a virtual stranger, telling me you’re in love with me. I’m allowed to be confused.”
A faint smile lit up her eyes. “Fair enough, but denial doesn’t look good on you. The debt was forged with love and it will be paid with love, and it gave me the unique power to heal an immortal’s death.”
He rubbed his forehead, willing away the blossoming headache. “The power to undo death?”
“The power to undo your death. The healing part is just a bonus. I take the injuries into myself and heal them.”
“And you can only do it with a kiss?”
Again that blush, but she didn’t look away. “When you were a child and you fell and scraped your knee, your mother, I’m sure, responded the way all mothers do. She would hold out her arms, and say, Let me—”
“—kiss it and make it better.”
She nodded.
Incredulity took hold. “So.” How was his voice still so calm? “You’re saying that this woman, who looks like you but is not you, promised my ancestor she’d repay him a debt owed in blood, and because of that, you’re in love with me, and you will steal my death with a kiss.”
Isobel pressed her lips together. “When you say it like that, it sounds so ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous. You can’t possibly expect me to believe this.”
She blinked twice and burst into laughter. “I’ve imagined having this conversation with you a hundred times, but I never imagined you might not believe me.”
“This is unbelievable, Isobel. You have to see that.”
Staring at him like he was some unsolvable puzzle placed before her, she straightened her shoulders. “Is it not true that I have healed multiple injuries by kiss alone?”
“Yes—”
She stepped closer. “Is it also true that you have felt connected to me since the moment we made eye contact?”
“Well, yeah—”
“And is it true that you have hated David Berkeley from your first breath?”
He tilted his head back and forth. “He hated me first—”
“And did we not just tell you that David’s ancestor and yours fought over me?”
“Okay, I see where you’re going—”
“So which part do you think I lied about?”
Sean grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop. “I’m not saying you lied. I understand that you believe this. What I’m saying is that I don’t believe it.”