44. Veyka

My mind mirrored the whirling eddies of the void. Arran showing up in the training courtyard, looking every inch the male he'd been before that horrible day in the cursed clearing. Watching Barkke and I sparring. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of the bond between us so demanding I'd nearly staggered under the force of it.

But the mate I'd known would not have intervened. He knew me well enough, trusted my skills enough to let me defend myself. My Arran would have known that Barkke, for all that he was a well-trained and brutal terrestrial warrior, was no match for me.

The urge to spar with him when he demanded it had almost overwhelmed me. Were we ever more whole, more attuned to one another than when we battled hand to hand, blade to blade? Yes—when we fought side by side.

Because the only thing I missed more than the warrior who had challenged me in the sparring ring of the goldstone palace was the male who had taught me to trust myself and my magic.

And I almost gave in. I knew that fucking him would be devastating. But feeling the weight of his battle axe, pushing it away, battling against someone who was actually my match… I craved it. I craved him. And still, it would have been a mistake. For so many reasons, not the least of which was it made me vulnerable, and I could not allow that in front of the terrestrials. Not if I wanted them to heed my warnings about the succubus, to truly accept me as their queen.

Then the anger in his gaze, the fury that set his eyes burning not with desire but with wrath… I had to get him away before he shifted. I had not seen Arran in the moments after my disappearance from our Joining, but I understood the loss of control and the consequences of it. Ripping apart our enemies was one thing, punishing those who betrayed us; those I would always support. But the Brutal Prince was known for his control; we could not afford for him to lose it, no matter what damage I'd done to his soul by shoving a sword through his heart.

I moved quickly. Even with my mind in tumult, my heart threatening to shatter inside of me, I was in control of that ember of magic inside of me. I stepped through the void, bringing Arran with me, and knew that it would work. That even though my power was tied to him, and our relationship was in fragments, I still commanded the void.

Arran, however, had no idea what to expect.

He hit his knees hard as we landed on a mountain top, one of the many we'd woven our way between on our journey to Eilean Gayl. Still firmly within Annwyn, but far enough away that even a flying terrestrial shifter would struggle to reach us in the time it took to have this conversation.

"What was that?" Arran demanded.

No blades of grass elongated to reach around my boots and hold me in place. I supposed that was as good a sign as any. He was angry, but he did not view me as the enemy. At least, not as one who needed to be restrained. Not yet.

I licked my lips, taking a step back to give him space to gain his feet and still keep plenty of cold mountain air between us. "The void power."

His laugh was sharp, humorless. "That is a legend."

"If you have trouble swallowing that, just wait until you hear what else I have to tell you." He did not laugh at that. I crossed my arms over my chest. For once, not to highlight my breasts and taunt him, but to protect myself from the inevitable pain. "Not a legend. A prophecy. One that you and I fulfilled on the day of our Joining."

He stood, and suddenly the several feet of space I'd put between us was not nearly enough. I could see the fight in every inch of his powerful body. He'd dressed in the terrestrial style, drawing from an armoire or bedroom that had probably been his for hundreds of years. Despite the cold, punishing wind ripping across the mountaintop, he did not shiver. No hint of gooseflesh rose along his exposed throat. I imagined I could see the uppermost branches of his Talisman. I wanted to trace every line with my fingertips, to feel his heart beating beneath. Maybe that would ease this shattered, broken thing inside of me.

But Arran did not move toward me, and I would not force myself upon him. His jaw ticked and the familiarity of it nearly brought me to my knees.

I'd never known anyone so well, not even Arthur. There had not been enough time. But Arran… I recognized the clench of his muscles and the tightening of his jaw. I knew him intimately, and I'd let him know me. That loss felt as painful as the memories.

When he opened his brutal slash of a mouth and spoke, his voice was hard but calm. "Tell me."

A command from the Brutal Prince. Not my husband or mate.

Half a day he'd been at Eilean Gayl, and he already knew something was wrong. Why else would we be here and not in Baylaur? Why else would he be missing his memories?

Slowly, I exhaled. I forced my arms to relax and hang at my sides. Arran's expression was hard, that unforgiving mask he wore to keep all other emotions at bay so that he could make clear decisions and intimidate those around him. I was not intimidated by him, but by the scope of explaining the last year of my life. Everything had changed. I had changed.

I turned away from him, looking out across the tall green mountains. The higher peaks around us were dusted with snow, but this one was all grass and craggy rocks. It was still brutally cold. I did not bother trying to encase my heart in ice as I summoned up the words to explain. There was no protecting my heart from Arran. There never had been.

"Seven thousand years ago, the Ancestors fought the Great War," I began.

"I know the history—"

"No. I don't think you do," I said sharply. I leveled him a look that promised violence if he interrupted me again. He stared right back. When I did not back down, he crossed his arms and lifted one black eyebrow. I would not get any more agreement than that.

"The Great War was not about the Terrestrial and Elemental Kingdoms. Or at least, it was not entirely about that. The exact details are vague, but…" I chewed over my next words. What to explain, how much, to a male who did not know me and had no reason to trust me. The truth; or as close to it as I could manage. I owed Arran that much. "Our Ancestors were not fighting each other. They were fighting something else, something worse. A great darkness."

I waited for any sign of recognition. A flicker of his black eyes, a shift in his stance, anything to indicate that he sensed the gravity of what I was explaining, that he recognized the importance of this on some subconscious level, even if he could not fully place it.

Nothing. He truly does not remember.

"The succubus."

He did not react.

"It takes over the minds of men while they sleep. It sinks into their consciousness, rendering their body into a monster. They feel no pain. They will stop at nothing to feed, to tear apart those around them." The only sign that Arran was internalizing any of it was that infernal tick in his jaw. I wanted to scream. "Entire villages destroyed as husbands and fathers wake in the night, taken by the succubus, and feast on the flesh of their wives and children. Hundreds of them moving in packs, waves of darkness that overcome even the most skilled fae warriors, because they simply do not stop."

I could see the horror of it, playing across my mind with the clarity that could only be conjured by memory. The human village burning. The mass of succubus encircling us in the clearing above the faerie caves. The half-body of the fae male crawling across the forest floor.

For a second, I envied Arran the loss of those terrible memories. They still haunted me, waking and dreaming.

Arran uncrossed his arms, one hand fingering the head of his axe. "How do you kill them?"

I saw the calculation in his eyes, then. This was why he was such a successful battle commander. He did not allow himself to be overwhelmed by these horrors, which allowed him to make a plan. Ancestors, I'd missed him. I'd missed having a true partner.

I curled one hand around the hilt of a dagger to keep from reaching for him. "Flames will hold them back temporarily. Beheading seems to work. The surest way is with amorite blades. Once one has been taken by the succubus, there is no redemption. There is only death."

His face betrayed him, black gaze narrowing in disbelief I was certain he did not mean to show me. "Amorite is a gemstone, not a weapon."

I held his gaze. "Until now."

Without breaking eye contact, I drew one of the curved blades from my back. Arran did not flinch, but he tracked the movement. His eyes changed, so slightly that months ago, I would have missed it. But now I recognized the beast within him, straining for control.

Did his wolf see me as a threat? I would have thought that even if Arran could not remember me, that his beast would recognize me for who—and what—I was. But maybe even that had been taken from me.

I lifted my other hand, laying the blade across my palms so that he could examine it. "Gifted to me by my brother. The rapiers, my knives, and Excalibur."

A step closer. He leaned in. I tilted my hand so that the blades caught the watered-down winter sunlight overhead, clearly illuminating the swirls of silver. It was beautiful, the sparkling amorite contrasting with the steel to create a pattern like curling smoke, unfurling along the delicately curved blade.

Arran examined it closely, but did not reach for it. Nor for me. When he stepped back, I slid the blade back into its sheath.

"Five blades. Against an enemy that comes in the darkness."

I nodded. "The amorite is effective against them even in its gemstone form. Wearing it will prevent possession, though they can still tear you apart just fine."

Arran's fingertips lifted to trace the stud in his ear. I'd given him one of my own earrings after we found out the truth in the faerie caves. "You said men. This is a human plague."

If only.

"It began in the human realm. Perhaps because they are weaker and more feeble-minded, they were easier to possess. But I've seen them take a fae male as well, in the forests outside of Avalon. Annwyn is not safe."

The words were hardly out of my mouth when the Brutal Prince spoke, his voice clear and strong. "We must protect Annwyn."

There he was—the male I'd fallen in love with. The one who had taught me not only that I was worthy of love, but that my kingdom was as well. The king Annwyn needed.

I searched his face, trying to find some sign that the male who had loved me lived inside of Arran still. The thick arch of his brows was just as it had always been. The muted sunlight deepened the shadow of stubble along his strong, square jaw. His dark hair would feel exactly the same curling around my fingertips, impossibly silky for a male who'd rightfully earned the title of Brutal Prince.

I felt my fa?ade, the placid elemental mask I kept in place, beginning to slip.

I wanted to reach for him, to throw myself into his arms and let him comfort me. It had taken me so long to allow him in, to admit that I loved him, only for him to be ripped away. First physically, and now… I did not even know how to describe the agony of having my mate standing right in front of me, but feeling him lost.

My fault.

Every terrible thing that had happened came down to me. Arthur was murdered to put me on the throne. We were lured to Avalon so Gorlois could capture me. The succubus had returned to Annwyn because I had begun to open the rifts.

Maybe it was stupid and selfish. But I could not bring myself to tell him the part I'd played in it all. That my void power was the reason the succubus had come to Annwyn again after seven thousand years.

He would figure it out. He would have more questions. Arran Earthborn had not become the commander of the terrestrial armies by being stupid.

But he already looked at me with such conflict in his ominous black eyes, I could not give him one more reason to doubt me. The Arran who loved me would never have blamed me, would have helped me work through my guilt. But this Arran? I didn't know, and I was too scared to find out.

I hooked my thumbs around the daggers on my belt. Arran marked the movement. His eyes had not left me since I'd brought us here. But if there was desire burning in his eyes, I could not see it. Not behind all the other emotions. Maybe that was why I did not see the next question coming.

"What about us?"

All the air was sucked from my lungs. My fingers began to tingle. The void called to me, promising sweet escape. If I let myself go now, maybe I could travel to another realm entirely. A place without this love and attachment that had led to such pain.

A low growl rolled through me, rooting me to the spot. Issuing a command.

Arran's eyes remained unchanged, expectant.

"What do you want to know?" I said, hating the choked whisper.

"Our marriage was arranged, demanded by the Ancestors to keep peace between our kingdoms."

"That is not question." But I still knew the answer he wanted.

Another faint growl, this one from his lips. "But we are more than husband and wife, king and queen."

I waited. A second, then five, ten. A full minute. Arran stared at me, waiting.

Fine.

I planted one hand on each hip, readying for a different sort of battle. One that would not involve blades, but would hurt so much more. "We are mates."

He shook his head slowly. My hands curled into fists.

"It is more than a legend." I felt my frustration rising. It was not fair to be angry at him. He was trying to piece it all together. But I could not stop it. I was held together by my own stubbornness and the echo of a love lost. It wasn't enough.

"You were the one who recognized it for what it was, this bond between us," I said, my voice rising with each word. "And now, you don't even believe me."

I felt the growl of his beast rolling through me. It was so fucking perfect. I'd missed him so much. And even though I was coming apart into a thousand tiny pieces, still desire for him unspooled inside of me. The way that growl soothed all the broken edges of my soul, saw the darkness within me and did not retreat…

Arran's brows knit together. "I do believe you. My beast—"

"Thinks I am fucking delicious. I know what that growl means."

Arran's eyes blew wide, his mouth curling into something like a snarl. I wanted to regret my brash words, but it felt so damn right.

"You can hear my beast."

I can talk to him too.

"Get out of my head."

Fuck. Me.

It wasn't going to be a blade or a succubus that killed me. It was the male I loved—systematically chipping away pieces of my heart.

The heart he had healed.

Maybe some of us just weren't meant to be happy.

Maybe it had been foolish to think I even deserved it.

I turned away, stalking to the edge of the mountain where a sheer drop fell away, a thousand feet or more. If I was lucky, maybe a strong wind would come along and knock me off of it.

I waited for Arran to join me. Knew that he would. I even knew what his line of thinking was going to be, because we'd been here before. In Baylaur, he'd spent hours lecturing me on duty and trying to ignore the desire raging between us. I had changed since then, but Arran had been thrown backward—to the male who would do anything for the sake of his kingdom, rather than his mate.

"We need a plan of action. If the succubus is coming for Annwyn, we must be ready," he said from behind me. From the pressure in my chest, I knew he'd left a solid two yards between us.

"What do you think I've been doing here?" I said, refusing to look back at him. "We need amorite. It is the easiest form of protection. Every piercing, every necklace, is one less terrestrial we need to worry about ripping us to shreds while we sleep."

"There isn't enough. Not for every male in Annwyn. We must prepare for a fight. Summon the armies. We should be using the amorite to forge weapons." His voice was full of command.

"How typically terrestrial of you, to choose the violent approach."

"Do not pretend that you are above violence."

I closed my eyes. Forced myself to feel the weight of the blades strapped across my back, the daggers hanging at my waist.

"I crave it," I said truthfully. "But it was you who taught me the importance of strategy."

"Then listen. Learn."

The superiority in his voice had me spinning on my heel. "You may be three hundred years old. But until a few days ago, you were in an enchanted sleep. Nuance is not a terrestrial strength, even when you're not incapacitated."

It almost felt normal. Like we might have been sitting at the Round Table, sparring until we came to an agreement. But Parys was not here to offer a clever quip. Cyara had not been listening carefully, waiting to share her insight. I even missed Gwen's brutal but efficient way of cutting through the bullshit.

Arran's black eyes were unreadable. The commander's mask, firmly back in place. I knew that expression well. He might believe me, but he did not trust me. He also did not understand all the intricacies at play, not yet. If he did not trust me, then I had to make the best decisions I could without him. I still had Lyrena and Cyara.

I extended a hand, even knowing that touching him would be torture. "Let's go back."

He did not reach for me. "Why was I in an enchanted sleep?"

I blinked. No. No, no, no, no, no.

"You are the only one who can tell me."

My throat was closing, but somehow I managed to get words out. "Lyrena and Cyara were there as well. And Isolde."

His eyes flickered with recognition, then shuttered again. "The faerie refused to tell me anything useful."

"Isolde is a loyal friend."

"Tell me the truth, Veyka."

My name on his lips was my undoing. I could not hold back the dam, the flood of words, my confession breaking in an uncontrolled wave.

"We went to Avalon to learn about the Void Prophecy. We were lured into a trap and attacked by an enemy from my past." I did not go into detail about Gorlois or who he'd been in the twisted story of my past. I could not give him those parts of me again, not now, not like this. "I killed him. And in the process, I nearly killed you."

"Y… you…" I had never seen Arran stumble over his words. Not once. Not ever.

"Me," I whispered, watching his face crumble. Watching any chance I might have had of winning back his love disappearing as I spoke. "I was the one who stabbed you in the chest with Excalibur. I am the reason you nearly died."