39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

J udging by the sun, we should be able to move again soon. Apparently, the keys that power the archways can only be used once every six hours, and the gate only stays open for a few moments at a time. Fortunately, our several-hour rest between rune arches has us overlooking a picturesque fjord.

"It was made that way in an attempt to detour their use for transporting armies. They were created with peace in mind, with a goal of uniting the courts," Razenna says, tugging on my hair. After today, there will be no new hairstyles to try out. I smile, feeling the accomplishment of trying them all out.

"There." She holds up a mirror, and I gasp.

"I love it."

This style is similar to the first braid Razenna gave me, with a prominent voluminous braid that travels down the center of my skull. However, this time, there are several smaller braids up the side of my head traveling vertically into the center braid. Razenna wove in metal bands, some with rune markings, and the main braid has a red scarf woven into it, giving it a flash of color. I haven't seen any of the other women with this style yet.

"This style might be my favorite so far; what does this one mean?"

Razenna's jaw clenches as she looks at me through the mirror. "War." A flash of something crosses her face, some sort of realization or recognition. "We should be able to use the gate now. Grab the sword. Everyone should be there by now."

Razenna uses her necklace, and we ride through the gate, which leads us to an outpost.

It's small and some rushed attempt at decorating the place was made. As we enter the dining hall, I'm met first by Mads, whose eyes travel up to my hair and then widen. Across the room, drinking from his whiskey glass, Ciaran spots me and chokes.

"Are you trying to tell us something, Razenna?" he asks between coughs.

"It's the last style. She wanted to try them all." Razenna joins Ciaran and pours two glasses from the decanter.

"Just feels like a bit of an omen." Ciaran eyes me suspiciously and then sips from his glass again. I notice now that the scarf he usually wears in his hair is red like the one in my own. I suppose the general should always be ready for war.

Razenna returns to the table and hands me one of the glasses. We find our seats just as August enters. He, too, notices my hair but seems less surprised by it. He rubs his hand through his beard and sits at the head of the table. The inglenook fireplace behind him is ablaze, which is good since the outpost doesn't have glass in the windows. The warmth of the fire is broken up sporadically by brisk gusts of wind.

Luc and Sven arrive with a small chest, which Sven places on the table. Luc strides around the room and stands near me, shooting me a smile.

I return it as an icy drop of dread dips into my chest. He's been telling everyone who will listen about his half-fae girl who is going to be his emissary. I fear with each new fae he tells, the shackles to my debt tighten.

Razenna opens the chest with a female I don't recognize, and she examines the rocks inside, one by one, under a small spyglass.

"I assure you, it's all there," Luc says as he pours several glasses. "Go ahead and count it, but we should toast." He holds up his glass. "To new beginnings." Sven mirrors him, smiling a little too much. Was he always this smiley?

"It's legitimate." The female fae says.

"I trust you held the other end of your bargain?" Luc asks, directing his question to August. "No one knows I'm paying you with fallonite?"

"It was a strange request, but yes. We kept our word," August says. "No one knows except who is with us now."

Razenna brings the sword and copy of the tome to Luc, who examines them with more light near the window.

Something doesn't feel right. My muscles tense, and it's hard to breathe. "Not now," I whisper and scan the room. Candelabra, chest of rocks, angry Ciaran: I name three things and wiggle my toes when August lightly brushes my arm.

He looks down at me with gentle eyes. "You're projecting," he says quietly. "You're anxious, maybe a little sad. Concentrate on my fingers." He slides them gently up the back of my arm and makes slow circles on my back.

August's eyes trace my lips and the curve of my neck. I glimpse one of his fangs as he bites his lip. Images of him pressing me against the wall at the Samhain festival flood my mind. He's such a good kisser. Oh, I need to feel those lips again.

Just as I consider pulling August to the next room, the doors burst open. A breathless messenger tumbles in with a sealed envelope.

"Pardon," he says, chest heaving. "Urgent message for Lucanis from Helios Castle."

Luc rushes over to the messenger, yanking the envelope from his hand.

He turns his back to us before cracking the seal and reading the letter. An uncomfortable silence stretches on as Luc reads, broken up only by the heaving breaths of the messenger. The faces in the room are tense, and Ciaran mouths ‘bad omen' to Razenna.

August rests the palms of his hands on the table, leaning in. He does not meet my gaze this time but instead looks like a predator reading the room, ready to strike if need be.

An unnatural sound breaks the silence. It starts out low and builds. It's coming from Luc. His maniacal laughter builds, and as he turns around, my heart stops. His expression is something between a grin and a grimace. Tears flow freely down his face, and his bloodshot eyes scream insanity. Sven runs to him and takes the letter, eyes scanning it.

Luc stops sobbing, or laughing, whatever that was, and looks across the room at August. His face hardens and he sniffs, briskly wiping tears away from his face. He seems inches taller now, posture gaining rigidity. Suddenly to his right Sven drops to one knee bowing his head before Luc.

"What's going on?" I whisper to Razenna.

Luc wipes a hand down his face once more and strides languidly towards me. His eyes are wild and rimmed with tears. I'm frozen in place, confused, and more than a little frightened. A sharp, cold gust of wind cuts through the room.

"My father is dead," he says flatly. "I'm to return to Helios and claim the throne. I'll be taking you with me." He stops beside me and shifts his focus to August.

The atmosphere in the room is even more tense now. "I'm very sorry for your loss," August says. His concerned gaze reaches mine once more, and my lip shakes.

"Don't look at her!" Luc shouts so loudly, and suddenly I jump back, throwing my hands up over my mouth. "Don't you look at her!" His voice is shrill and erratic. "I see the way you look at her. She's mine. She works for the good of Helios now. I won't have you marring her with your feckless hands."

August's eyebrows furrow, and he raises his palms. "I think you're just upset . . ."

"Upset?" Luc practically screams at him, spit flying through the air. Mads and Ciaran move closer to us, but August raises a hand at them, and they stop.

"I think you're upset. There's nothing going on between Bronwyn and myself." His tone is gentle, as if speaking to a child. I know he is just trying to calm Luc down, but his words sting.

"She's mine," Luc says more quietly now, "and you can't have what's mine. You've got all this nice land here. How would you feel if someone came up and took it?" He laughs coldly. "You know what? I think I'll do just that."

August stands at full height and steps towards Luc. "I'm trying to be understanding Lucanis, but if you make a threat against my court again, you're going to regret it."

"It's no threat. I'm coming for you." Luc points at August's chest for emphasis.

"I'd really like to see you try," August growls.

"Try and stop me," Luc whispers, and within the blink of an eye, he grasps my arm, and we phase.