Chapter 21

Calen

Iswallow the amber liquid in one burning gulp. The subtle notes of oak and spice turn to acid on my tongue as I glare at the ominously teetering piles of correspondence, but not even liquor can numb the dread in my heart. Grabbing the first scroll, the words blur as I read reports of violent clashes on our border with Brimora.

Bile sears the back of my throat as the list of the dead and dying imprints on my eyes. Four wounded in our ranks and a dozen humans killed.

I sweep my arm violently across the desk’s surface and parchments scatter in an explosion of chaos, glass shattering against the floor, ink bleeding into abstract figures on the pages.

“Damn you, Az.”

The curse tears from my throat as I attempt to calm my racing heart.

“You may have doomed us all, this time.”

Were it not for his absence, we wouldn’t be in this mess. He always has to put his ass on the line for heroic missions, which inevitably leaves me to clean up the mess. He has to be the one to save everyone, and I’m left struggling to prevent our realm from descending into civil war.

What happens if Azran and Ela are dead, their bodies rotting on a dark street in Nyths? How do I save Lóna?

Rumors are already circulating around their disappearance. Neither have been seen in the city for months, and our people’s trust is disintegrating before my eyes.

Units are reporting deserters and none of our messengers have returned from Morilanthe. Amrynn is out there doing gods know what and it reeks of deception. She will do anything to position herself in the widening power void.

Without Azran’s vision to unite us, how long can allegiances born from sacrifice and bloodshed withstand before dissolving entirely? If this goes on much longer, the territories will descend into madness and make the unifying wars pale by comparison.

Doubt festers like poison in my heart as I contemplate the possibility that the reward for our years of struggle might vanish in an instant.

My shoulders sag under the invisible weight of my responsibilities and I bend to gather the papers at my feet. Stacking the missives and reports in a pile, I rearrange the desk as best I can.

A small piece of parchment crushed under my boot catches my eye. Flattering the missive as best I can, my gaze traces Vesta’s word. Looks like I’ll be seeing her tonight.

I let out a heavy sigh. She’s the only one keeping me sane, although she’s another reminder of all I fear. How can I protect her from what’s coming? I can’t shield against all threats, not when they’re coming from all sides.

A knock warns me before Barus steps in. The intendants’ eyes dart to the mess on the floor before his mouth opens.

“Anything I can help you with, General?”

“No, I’m fine.” Seeing Barus stand still, I motion towards the scattered paperwork before sitting back in my chair. “I’ll take care of it.”

The map carved on the surface of the desk draws my attention until Barus clears his throat.

“You may go. I’ll call for you if I need anything.”

Barus takes a step back hesitantly, his brows furrowed together, but I don’t repeat myself. He knows better than to question a direct order.

Returning to the map, I find myself contemplating unthinkable options as my fingers brush over Zetrea’s territory. Our world oscillates precariously atop this elaborate house of cards only Azran could maintain, and we’re in dire need of strong allies. One decisive gust and everything collapses. Who do I turn to without Azran?

Confronted with the prospect of his indefinite absence, an impossible choice presents itself. I’ve never met the King of the Fae, but he’s by far the oldest and most cunning there is. He’s probably older than Mor, and gods know the knowledge and power he holds. Our best chance might lie in an alliance with Airdan.

Bile rises in my throat once more as I consider our options. Do nothing and watch anarchy devour society from within, or dare an alliance.

A plan forms in my mind, a last resort to save the Fae and prevent the realm from descending into chaos. I fist my palm, my decision made. The Fae need a strong and visible leader, not one stuck behind a desk all day.

“Barus,” I command as the intendant freezes in the doorway.

“Yes, General.”

“I need you to set up a town hall for all citizens in two days’ time and a council with Averion’s captains tomorrow.”

“General?” Barus’ eyes widen.

“Times are changing. Set it up.” I muster my sharpest tone and let the General in me take over, leaving no room for debate.

“Very well.”

Barus retreats with a quick nod, and as soon as the door closes behind him, I dig through the stack of documents in front of me.

I find a blank parchment and a quill and get to drafting until my hand hurts.

Rummaging in the carved desk, I retrieve the official seal and envelopes. Breaking the wax stick with more force than necessary, I hold it to the fire’s eager flames before letting molten red beads drip on the four envelops, sealing them.

Tharrion’s missive will raise his arched brows, but he was ever the pragmatist. Irann will no doubt require leverage to assure the cooperation of the Wood Fae. Keryth should be receptive to my words. Only Amrynn’s response fills me with dread, for she has the most to gain from our disarray. Hopefully the promise of shared rule here will distract her restless ambition, if only temporarily.

Four letters, four hopes for salvaging unity amongst our factions.

Revulsion curdles my stomach, but I force my stiff legs back to the liquor cabinet and swallow another searing mouthful. Liquid courage, or at least numbness, before undertaking the last distasteful task of this awful night.

I draft another short missive that I tuck into the pocket of my trousers. This one doesn’t require a seal, for it’s going to an old friend, only a single letter to decorate the back of the envelope.

”M.

Dark times await come dawn.”

When Vesta strolls into my bedroom, I’m ready to surrender every fiber of my being to her touch to escape the dread tightening its hold on my heart.

Worry mingles in her emerald eyes as she sheds her dress, but I pull her close, our bodies the only truth that matters now. Determined to scrub anguished choices from my mind, I let myself drown in this stolen moment until we’re both spent.

I sag against the headboard as she pants, her body laying across the bed at an angle. Her chest glimmers, flushed peaks still tight from moments before. As I admire her body, guilt stirs in my gut. Stuck in my own despair, I’d relegated my adoration for her to an afterthought.

“Stay the night,” I offer.

Vesta hops off the bed as soon as the words leave my mouth. She grabs her short dress, lying on the floor, and slips it on effortlessly with her back turned to me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, longing for her to unburden her fears and voice every doubt festering inside her so I could banish them for good.

“Dove?” I murmur, craving the gift of her trust.

“Stop calling me that.” Her sharp tone rings in the air. “I’m not a bird whose fate is to be caged for a man’s pleasure.”

I repress a frustrated growl and sit on the edge of my bed, still naked.

“Do you know why I call you that?”

She lets out a huff and turns to face me.

“Because you’d rather have me trapped here with you than free out there. No matter the consequences. No matter if it kills me.”

I’m on her in seconds, madness shaking my heart.

“No.” I grab her by the throat, tightly enough to silence her but not enough to cut her access to air. I reign in my anger as I wait for her to meet my stare. When she does, challenge lingers in her irises, along with a hint of lust.

“Because doves symbolize freedom, and I’ve always understood and respected that about you.” My thumb brushes against her throat before I release her. That she believes me capable of harming her hurts more than any blade could.

“If being with me feels like a prison, leave,” I say. “I don’t want that either.”

I’m about to step back when her gaze falls on my mouth.

Her hands go to the thin straps on her collarbones and slide them over her shoulders. Her delicate fingers land on my wrist and she pulls me against her.

Warmth radiates from our bodies so close together, and my pulse quickens.

She reaches for a kiss on the tip of her toes, eagerness guiding her tongue as she claims my mouth. My arms wrap around her waist, letting her take the lead.

She pushes me until my back hits the wall, sending a rush of heat through my middle. Her hand grabs mine and guides it towards her throat.

I tighten my hold on her neck and a moan escapes her lips as one of her legs slowly rubs against my thigh.

“Make me sing,” she whispers against my mouth, her warm breath caressing on my face.

As she relinquishes control for the first time, I vow to never make her regret it. If it is pain she seeks, I will oblige, merely making her wish she had offered sooner.

I lift her off the ground and press her body against the wall as her legs cross behind my back.

Grinding against her, I devour her neck, licking and biting until her moans fill the air. Her wetness coats my hips as my cock slides against her entrance, circling and taunting.

Her fingers dig into flesh as she grips my shoulders tightly, and her hold threatens to send me over the edge. I am ready to repent for my sins at her altar.

I return my focus to her mouth and position myself at her entrance, still teasing her tense bud of nerves with the tip of my length.

I hold her up with one arm while the other goes back to her neck, gently caressing her skin, feeling her pulse beneath my fingers.

A gasp leaves her mouth when I can’t hold back anymore and plunge inside her. I tighten my hold on her throat.

She’s dripping with wetness as our bodies collide, each thrust reverberating loudly in the room. Her eyes roll back as I move in and out of her.

She chases her release and I cling to each ecstatic cry—heavenly notes to my ears.

“See how well you take me?” I whisper against her mouth.

I release my hold long enough for her to suck in another breath before I dive back inside her and claim her lips again.

Her release nears as her pussy clenches around my cock and she shatters in my arms.

Vesta loosens her hold on my shoulder and I slowly let her down, my hands on her back to steady her.

I’m readying myself for her to pull away, but she sags against my chest and deposits the softest kiss on my skin instead. I instinctively hold my breath, willing this moment to last a lifetime.

I consider repeating my offer for her to stay, or even for me to have food brought up, but I opt against it. I’ve pushed her enough for one night.

A newfound trust has bloomed between us tonight, and I will sacrifice all to defend it. Joy swells in my heart as I watch her dress and tie her red hair in a low bun.

“Good night, Dove.”

A smile tugs on her swollen lips as she opens the door.