Chapter 30

She was exquisite. There were no other words for the way her kisses tasted. And when she’d taken him in hand, Remis had begged the gods or whoever might be listening, not to let him spill himself within her palm. The sounds she made were music to his ears. Sounds that had made everything his ears had taken in before not even worth hearing in comparison. Her cunt was a silken dream that he never wanted to wake up from. Sadly though, it had come to an end eventually and they’d both gotten dressed again.

For the first time since he’d met the woman, she actually appeared as if she’d finally relaxed. Her steps were slow as they made their way back to the bedroom, her cheeks flushed from sex, and her curls quickly unwinding from her braids. She caught the way his eyes trailed over her now, her cheeks darkening further, then she made quick work of taking out the rest of her braids and smoothing a hand over her mane.

They both slipped wordlessly below the covers, lying still, and staring up toward the ceiling. Remis stretched his hand across the sheets, found her ungloved hand, and held it in his. She sighed, soft and sweet, the sound having him bite back a smile. When they finally fell asleep and woke the next morning they were more than hand in hand, they were a tangle of limbs.

Light was coming in around the curtains. It kissed her skin and somehow haloed her hair as the mass of it was sprawled over his chest. Her head rested on his stomach, her steady breaths blowing against the hairs that trailed down his abdomen. Last night he’d not bothered with his shirt and he was undoubtedly thankful for it now.

He was the first to wake and he was too terrified to move and ruin this perfect morning. Tenderly, he twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. He’d woken on more than one occasion with a woman still intertwined with him in bed, but he’d never stayed. There was always something more important to do than lounge in bed. While he knew whatever he’d be facing today would be with her at his side, he couldn’t bring himself to end whatever this was. This…peace.

“You’re awake,” she mumbled against his skin. “You’ve stopped snoring so you must be awake.”

Remis dropped the curl he’d been playing with. “I do not snore.”

She lifted her face, turned toward him, and arched a questioning brow. “You do. Quite aggressively. Do your lovers often flee from you in the night just so they might get an ounce of rest? I considered shoving the stuffing of these pillows into my ears.”

“I’ll have you know that no woman has ever fled my bed in the middle of the night.” There had been a time or two when the women had snuck out of his home before he”d awoken, but that couldn’t have been because he snored…could it? He’d always assumed that they had someplace to be.

Her long fingers spread out over his abdomen. She felt along every curve and dip up to his chest where she paused to run her fingers through the hair that was scattered there. Meira looked up at him through her lashes and smirked as though she didn’t believe him.

Remis took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the cursed mark upon it. “Kindred said you could only be rid of the curse if you killed me or if the witch who’d created it removed it herself. Have you chosen to end my life or have you chosen to keep it yet? My future rests so fully in these beautiful hands.” He surprised himself with how calmly he asked the question. Death was no longer something that intimidated him. He’d faced it several times on the way to this damned city and it’d lost its hold on him.

Something in the depths of her green eyes dimmed. “Maybe I’ll end you. Maybe I’ll keep you. I do so love to have you on the edge waiting to know.” That smile of hers lost a bit of its luster. “As for the curse, I would assume that I had created it but I do not know how to be rid of it.”

“We could always return to Kindred. Maybe she could tell you how.”

Chilled morning air rushed over the place where the witch had just been. The lift of the blanket exposed his legs where his pants had ridden up his calves. And Meira was standing, reaching for her weapon belt, and clasping it around her hips.

“Maybe,” she echoed, pushing her hair from her face. “What have you got to do for this business your father wishes for you to attend?”

The moment he’d wished to go on forever had come to an end. Remis found himself wanting to drag her back into the bed, to throw the blanket over their heads, and never come back up for air. Instead, he kicked his legs over the edge and rose. His shirt, waistcoat, and boots were somewhere in the living room.

Though, in regards to the business he needed to address, he was aware of an envelope with his father’s seal still sitting on the mantel across from the bed. He’d not wanted to open it yesterday and the urge to do so hadn’t somehow grown this morning. Tightening the drawstrings of his trousers, he made his way to the now-cold hearth.

The red seal mocked him. He glared at the parchment for a moment longer before snatching it and ripping past the wax. His father’s neat script gave instructions with no evidence of care or emotion etched into the words or phrasing.

“It seems we ran a bit behind schedule. We are to meet a gentleman today at noon at The Bearded Maid’s Tavern. He’ll have further instructions for us.” He crumpled the thick parchment in his hand and then tossed it into the fireplace.

Light filled the room as Meira pulled the curtain back and looked out at the sky. “You’d better hurry along then because it’s nearly noon now.”

Nearly noon? Had they truly slept that long?

Remis blinked back his confusion and went to find new clothes. When he’d dressed from what was a well-stocked wardrobe, Meira was already waiting for him by the door, her hair neatly pulled back into a thick ponytail. She offered him a new cloak.

“The house seems to be adequately stocked,” she mumbled.

A nervous sort of buzzing was building up in his veins. It was different from the almost pleasant worry that came with the curse and hung over whatever his and Meira’s relationship was becoming. This was the unsettling feeling that had haunted Remis most of his life. An ever-growing need to appease his father strangled by the knowledge that it would likely never happen. Now he was going to negotiate on his father’s behalf. One mistake could cost him everything. If he managed to tarnish the Lexmore name he didn’t doubt his father would find a way to make him pay even further. He thought of his sister then. Had to swallow down the guilt of not writing to her yet. Said a prayer that their father was leaving her to her studies and not taking out the anger he had at Remis on her instead.

Cloaked, with clammy hands, and Meira walking at his side, they headed toward The Bearded Maid’s Tavern. The horrible feeling tightening in his chest and clogging up his throat followed them the entire way. He’d hardly given the great city of Croughton a second glance, only stumbling along the sidewalks looking for their tavern.

Eventually though, the orange sign with a beard painted below the tavern”s name came into view. Remis tried to breathe through the terrible knot in his throat but found he couldn’t quite fill his lungs no matter how he tried. Meira was watching him now, eyes narrowed. He tried his best to give her a smile, to put on the face of confidence he always wore, and forced his shoulders down away from his ears.

“Are you okay?” she asked, placing her hand on the door when he tried to open it.

“Of course.”

His future depended on this meeting. This would be where he saw his hopes and dreams either secured or squashed.

Reluctantly, she dropped her hand, let him open the door, and they both entered The Bearded Maid. The scent of stale mead immediately assaulted him. After a second, Remis’ eyes adjusted to the dim lighting revealing private booths along one wall and several filled tables across the main floor. A hum of chatter filled the room.

He didn’t know what the man they were meeting looked like, only that his name was Austious Bromade, a curious name indeed, and that he’d have with him a yellow carnation. Sticky liquid under his boots made his footsteps noisy while he walked further into the establishment. His eyes scanned over worn painted wood and strange unfamiliar faces. Remis stopped as he spotted a yellow flower set at the end of a table.

“There.” He pointed. “Find a seat at the bar and I’ll get you when we’re done?”

Meira was frowning but she nodded, looking over her shoulder once before leaving him alone. His stomach flipped, but he ignored the feeling, refusing to give in to it. Giving his best grin, he slid into the booth across from the man who’d been shuffling through a stack of papers. He didn’t even look up when Remis sat, only sighed loudly.

“Austious?” Remis cleared his throat.

“Yes?” He turned another paper over, eyes scanning the ink.

“My name is Nikremis Lexmore. I’ve come to discuss business on behalf of my father, Artemis Lexmore.” Remis held his hand out across the table.

Austious set the papers down and looked up at Remis over the rims of his glasses that had fallen down his crooked nose. Lantern light that hung overhead reflected off the man’s bald head. He wore a white robe over a loose white shirt, and while Remis wondered how he kept the garment so clean in a place like this, it was not unusual for someone who worked closely with the emperor himself to wear the family”s color.

He dropped his hand but leaned forward. “We would like to offer our service in all lines of business pertaining to fabrics and dyes.” Swallowing the rest of his nerves, he added, “as well as filling the need for ‘Project Empire.’” His father had not given him any explanation of what this Project Empire deal was only that he wanted to procure it.

With one finger, Austious pushed his glasses back up his nose and sat taller. The borderline annoyance that had darkened his features melted away to outright surprise. He smiled at Remis, leafing through more papers that were next to him in the seat before handing a small stack to Remis.

“Fabric and dyes may be harder to get you into. There’s been interest in those particular avenues that Mr. Hamza had—god rest his soul. Project Empire though…” Austious’ hazel eyes were large as they took Remis in. “Do you know a mage?”

Remis stiffened. Why would he be asking of a mage? That feeling that had been haunting him was growing tenfold. “I’ll be off to the School of Magestry in the spring myself,” he answered.

Austious beamed. “A true patriot then! Wonderful. Yes, this particular business pays quite handsomely should your bid be accepted. Did you know Mr. Hamza had a special interest in the prestigious school? He donated money every year to ensure that they could offer their students the very best. Over half the students also received jobs in his employ. You’re a very lucky man.”

Nodding along, Remis did his best to hide his confusion. What did his wish to be a mage have anything to do with patriotism? What did it have to do with this Project Empire? And what sort of business was his father readying to partake in? He hated mages. Hated that Remis had ever discovered his connection to magic and wished to build upon it.

“All the information is here.” Austious patted the stack of documents. “What was your name again?”

“Nikremis Lexmore.”

The man picked up a quill, dipping it in ink, then snatched up another paper and messily wrote down his name. “Yes, right. Review these documents. Complete the necessary bid at the end of each and be sure to have it delivered to the address here.” He tapped a finger at the top corner of the page. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you—”

“We need to go.” Meira appeared at the end of the booth. She’d pulled the hood of her cloak up over her now puckered features.

“What’s wrong?” Remis clasped the papers, ignoring Austious’ scowl.

“I—” Meira looked carefully over her shoulder and dropped her voice to a whisper, “We need to leave. Right now.” Her pale green eyes were wide, conveying the urgency of her demands. He felt a trickle of unease passing from her, coming from that bond that kept them tied together. That he felt it at all must be a testament to how deeply she was feeling the emotion.

Holding the documents against his chest, Remis nodded and turned back to Austious. “Thank you so much for your time. We will be on our way and I will get the bid completed and sent. Do you need anything else from me?”

The man only waved a hand at them and turned back to what he’d been doing before Remis had sat down. Quietly, Remis slid out of the booth and followed Meira’s cloaked form, but before they’d even made it a couple of steps someone called out her name.

A deep raspy voice called again, “Meira?” Heavy footfalls accompanied the question. Was that anger he heard in the man’s voice?

But Meira kept walking. It was actually Remis who dared a glance at the person who was quickly approaching. A tall muscular man with blond locks tied back at his nape and wearing the same leathers Meira wore. Another scale rider then. He did know her. Why would she run?

The man caught up, snagged Meira by the wrist, and forced her to a stop. Frustration flared inside of Remis as he glared down at the hand that held his witch.

“Meira. Dragons. What happened to you?” Whoever this was, he was turning pink with anger. He cast an even darker look toward Remis who straightened his shoulders.

“Let me go, you’re hurting me,” Meira said through her clenched teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing? We thought you got hurt or worse were dead after you went after that dragonis. And now I find you here with some stranger?”

She strained against this man’s hold and Remis swore his vision pinpointed on the white knuckles surrounding her wrist. “I can explain if you just—”

“You’re damn right you’ll explain. Tell me now why we shouldn’t cast you out of the legion?”

“I can’t. Not here.” She tugged at his hold on her again.

Remis shoved a hand into the man’s chest, sending him stumbling back a step but causing him to let Meira go. “She asked you not to touch her.”

“And who the fuck—” The man’s attention caught on the fabric circled around Remis’ hand. His eyes bulged as he stepped forward and ripped the fabric until the huntress mark showed. “No.” He gave half a laugh. “No, not possible.” Then he tugged the glove off Meira’s hand exposing their matching marks. “Meira. Tell me what I’m thinking right now isn’t true. Tell me you’re not a damn witch.”

All the blood had drained from Meira’s face as the man spit the word ‘witch’ out like it was poison and she stood utterly frozen in place.His eyes were roaming over her, searching, wide, wanting, and full of rage.

“Tell me it’s not true!” the stranger yelled, spittle flying from his lips. All eyes were turning toward them now, conversations quieting for a chance to listen to the spectacle happening. Meira only looked down at the ground and fisted her hand.

Wind passed before Remis’ face. The motion had been so fast he hadn’t even seen it coming. One heartbeat they were standing toe to toe with this angry man and the next Meira was on the floor clutching her reddened cheek while he stood above her with murder in his eyes.