Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

FINN

Light seared its way through him, igniting every vein, blasting any trace of corruption from him. And it was pleasure, just as he had been told, more pleasure than he had ever experienced.

Finn gasped out Wren's name, and when he opened his eyes to see her – because he had to see her – Wren kissed him, her mouth ravenous with need. Her lips burned against his, her mouth opening to him, and he was helpless. She branded him with that kiss, claimed him. Not just his body. His mind. His soul.

She was all he could ever have wanted, or needed, all he had dreamed of. She was everything.

The pain in her face faded, leaving only need. Desire. And a wild relief. He felt it too, and it spiralled out all around them, threading through the forest.

Her mouth moved against his, her tongue caressing his, her hands still holding him down as she explored every nuance of his kiss. A soft moan escaped her, hungry and desperate, and he hardened beneath her, desperate for release. She had to feel his need, pressed so close against him, body to body. Just the sound she made went straight through him and he was hers, body and soul. He knew that much, knew it with every beat of his heart, with every stolen breath.

Finally she pulled back, leaving him lying there looking up at her, dazed, helpless and still needing. Wanting her, all she could give him, eternally.

Shame filled her face. ‘I'm sorry,' she stammered. ‘I had to.'

Confused and still desperate he could only manage one word. ‘What?'

But before she could explain she wilted against him, slumping down. The woman who had pinned him there, as if he had no strength left at all, suddenly could have been made of shadows herself. His strength surged back through him, the light of the Aurum coursing through his veins as if he glowed from within.

He had only ever felt a brief hint of this glory, standing before the Aurum itself.

As he'd tried to give his vows the Aurum had stirred for a moment, just a brief moment of wild hope before settling back into its long sleep. The Paladins had tried to encourage him, saying it hadn't reacted to anyone else, but that really did not help. The flame still slept and the light hadn't claimed him.

Until now.

Finn pushed himself up, gathering her limp form in his arms. Her eyes fluttered open, the long lashes matted together with tears. She gazed into his face, and those same tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

‘What did you do?' he asked, but she just curled in against him, hiding her face.

He sat there, cradling her in the darkness. Her chest rose and fell, and she shuddered in his arms.

He couldn't stay here like this. He just couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to. It was madness.

Finally, she stilled. Not sleep, not exactly. Exhaustion. The effects of such magic. He didn't know. Finn settled her as close to the scattered remains of the fire as he could and bundled her up in the blankets. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, even though he should be watching the forest around him.

But all around him the natural sounds of the forest had returned, night birds and the furtive movement of nocturnal animals, everything he would expect. It told him they were safe. For now, anyway. As safe as they could be. Nothing would dare come near them again tonight. The light Wren had called into him, channelling it through herself, had burned all the darkness away. From the forest in their immediate vicinity. From him.

What had happened back there?

He checked his side as best he could in the firelight, but there was no sign of any bitemark, let alone the insidious infection he would have expected. He was whole and unharmed, his skin as smooth as it had ever been.

Shadow kin bites were at best fatal. In the worst case they could infect their victim and turn them into monsters like themselves. Servants to the ghostly presence of the Nox, which lingered on in the world, with no real will of their own.

That would have been him, if not for Wren.

But the pain he'd seen written clearly in every line of her body wasn't right either. She knew the secret words, the othertongue that the maidens who tended the Aurum learned. He remembered hearing it in the heart of the Sacrum, when they gathered together. The statues of the chosen stood around, silent and unmoving, their faces like masks. Those magical songlike words used tried to wake the Aurum. And someone must have taught her.

The queen. It had to be the queen. Queen Aeryn of Asteroth. The one who Wren knew only as Elodie. Who else could it be to know such things?

How was he going to explain that to Roland? Come to that, how was he going to explain Wren to him? Because even an idiot like him could see it. Even if she hadn't had the locket with Roland's likeness in it next to her own. Even if he hadn't heard the rumours about the Paladin and the lost queen.

He knew Wren had hidden the diary in her bags. He should find it and read it, discover as much as he could, so he could present a complete report when they finally reached Knightsford.

But he couldn't bring himself to do that to her.

It wasn't that he had qualms about breaking a confidence, not when the security of the kingdom was at stake. He'd been in his native Sidonia to gather information, as one of the few able to travel between the two kingdoms with any ease. While the crown prince would kill him on sight, and take every pleasure in it, not everyone felt the same way. Until Leander took the throne, Finn still operated under a measure of protection. So long as he always returned to Asteroth. So long as he never dreamed of betraying those who had raised him. Or of ever going home for good.

But he didn't even know where home was. Not really. Finn was lost between two worlds, trying to make the best of it and find his own path forward.

So why did the idea of searching for the diary in Wren's bag and reading it feel like it would be the worst kind of treachery? He didn't owe Elodie anything. He didn't owe Wren?—

Except he did. Especially now. He owed her his life, his humanity, everything.

The pulse of light still ran through him, a steady beat in time with his own heart, the liquid pleasure still not entirely abated. When he looked at her exhausted face, with the long black hair coiling about it, at the delicate contours of her features and the sensual mouth he longed to kiss again, he knew he was in trouble. Deep trouble.

Finn had fancied himself in love before. There had been lovers at the court, various daughters and sons of the nobility who liked to slum it with the ward of the Grandmaster, to risk fraternising with a son of Ilanthus for whatever thrill it gave them. He'd enjoyed his time with all of them, knowing all along the reaches of the relationship and parting without much regret. But he had never felt the fierce rush of need he felt whenever Wren was near. There had never been a moment like that second when her lips met his.

Finn didn't know what to do with it. It couldn't be natural. It couldn't be right.

In Ilanthus, where his people gave themselves over willingly to hedonism in honour of their dark goddess, such feelings were celebrated. But he had not been raised in Ilanthus, and Asteroth frowned on such things. Feared them. With good reason. What would Roland say if he confessed it to him?

A spear of shame ran through him. If he confessed his feelings about Wren to the Grandmaster, he'd have more problems than that. Especially if she was who he feared she was.

He couldn't keep thinking about it, about her. Whatever this was, he needed to push it down, force it from his mind and take charge of his own body. He could never act on it again and no one could ever know.

Not Roland, and especially not Wren.

Never.

From somewhere far away, on a breeze perhaps, he thought he heard laughter.