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Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

ANDRIN

R ane followed me as I headed toward the King’s Grove. Several nobles attempted to draw me into conversation after I left the courtyard. Understandably, they wanted to know more about Mirella. For too long, Autumn had seemed all but certain to fail. Now, hope shimmered in the air.

But I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Not when the male I trusted most in the world had broken my trust.

I could always sense when he followed me. He’d been doing it for the better part of four centuries.

But I was also well aware that I sensed him because he allowed it. When Rane Laruthian didn’t want to be seen, not even the most skilled tracker could detect his presence. His stealth was his gift—and a talisman against the darkness that crept over Autumn. According to our lore, his ancestors had sprung from shadow itself, in a time when Autumn’s magic was balanced and thriving. Light was a powerful force, but its strength was also an inherent weakness. When it burned too brightly, it devoured itself.

It needed the darkness. The children of the shadows protected the light. And Rane protected me.

But just like the land, we were plagued by imbalance.

The air in the Grove was cool, its thick grass dappled with sunlight. Water splashed in a large, multi-tiered fountain. Hedge-lined paths cut winding trails to stone benches that flanked statues of revered warriors of old. The Grove’s walls rose tall and imposing around the secluded sanctuary, ensuring privacy. But that wasn’t their primary purpose.

They existed to protect the Edeloak, the heart of Autumn’s power. The massive tree dominated the center of the Grove, its branches casting a thousand shadows on the ground. Orange, yellow, and red leaves fluttered in a gentle breeze. Here and there, some of the leaves withered. I kept my gaze away from them, and I didn’t look at the patch of brown grass that spread at the tree’s base. Moss covered the ancient oak’s branches, some of which hovered just above the ground like long fingers poised to dig into the soil.

I skimmed a hand along one thick, round bough before facing Rane.

He stopped, his expression shuttered. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“Do you?” I folded my arms. “Why don’t you enlighten me.”

“Don’t be like this. Walto’s daughter is a prize, and you know it.”

The anger that had brewed under my skin since the herald announced his return surged to a boiling point. “You seem to know everything I’m thinking and feeling. Why even have a conversation, my lord?”

His jaw tightened. “You use my title to put distance between us. Is this the start of a punishment? You’re angry that I crossed the Edelfen, and now you’ll force some kind of public separation to ensure the whole court is aware of your displeasure.”

In a blink, I gripped his shirt in both fists. Hauling him onto his toes, I let my anger fill my voice. “The only member of this court who needs to worry about my displeasure is you. I ordered you to stay away from the Covenant. You went anyway, conspiring with humans and bringing Walto’s daughter into our midst after I specifically told you to put her out of your mind.”

Resentment glinted in his purple eyes, but he didn’t fight my hold or try to pull away. “I didn’t conspire. I bargained.”

“It doesn’t matter. I told you not to go.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty, for seeing an opportunity to save your kingdom and pursuing it.”

The anger boiled over, and I shook him. “Damn you, Rane, you reckless, disobedient fool. Don’t you get it? Nothing is saved if I lose you .”

His eyes widened. Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue hot and demanding. But I wasn’t interested in capitulation. Gripping his shoulders, I spun him and slammed his back against the Edeloak. Swallowing his grunt, I thrust my tongue hard against his, taking control of the kiss.

For a second, he resisted. Then he gave in with a sigh, opening under me so I could take what I wanted.

And I wanted everything. The worry and fear of the past two days flooded me, urging me to push him harder against the tree. To pin him and, yes, punish him. If I did, that meant he was real. If I could hurt him, I hadn’t lost him to the nameless, faceless monsters neither of us could ever really conquer. We could only battle them…and lose a little bit of the war each time.

Blood roared in my ears. More pounded to my cock, which pushed painfully against the fastening of my trousers. I drove my hips into Rane’s, grinding our dicks together.

He groaned into my mouth. He was just as hard. Just as desperate and ready. As if he wanted to prove it, he clawed at my back. Slid his fingers into my hair and hooked a leg around my hip. Sucking at my tongue, he rutted against me.

The scent of bellclovers floated in the air, and I knew he’d dislodged the blooms in my braid. I’d have to punish him for it. But not with the separation he’d spoken of. Never that.

I cupped his jaw as I deepened the kiss, stroking so hard and deep he couldn’t spit me out. Our panting breaths and mingled groans warred with the sounds of the wind dancing through the leaves. My dick leaked in my trousers as I rocked my hips, dragging my shaft up and down his.

It wasn’t enough. Then again, it never was with him. Always, I craved more.

Stepping back, I yanked him away from the Edeloak. “I want your mouth,” I growled, shoving him to his knees.

His hands shook as he fumbled my trousers open and freed my dick. He winced when I tangled a fist in his hair, then moaned when I gripped my shaft and thrust it roughly into his mouth.

Perfect, wet heat surrounded me. Head-spinning pleasure tightened my balls, which swayed as I widened my stance. Rane licked and sucked, swirling his tongue up and down my dick with masterful skill. The feathers and vines around his throat rippled with his movements. Black hair slid over his shoulders as he sucked at my cockhead, his purple eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Bracing a hand on my thigh, he moved his mouth to my sack, nuzzling one heavy globe and then the other. When precome swelled at my slit, he drew back and licked it away.

“Suck,” I ordered, driving my hips forward and forcing my shaft deep into his mouth. My cock nudged the back of his throat, gagging him. He coughed but recovered quickly, hollowing his cheeks as I began plunging between his lips. Holding him steady with a fist in his hair, I quickly fell into a bruising rhythm.

It was too good. I wasn’t going to last long. His fault. I’d punish him for that, too.

Gripping his hair in both hands, I fucked his face, driving hard and deep. His eyes watered. His grunts vibrated up my shaft to my nuts, whipping my pleasure higher.

“Are you sorry?” I demanded, my hips snapping.

Rane gagged again, coughing around my dick as he nodded.

“That’s my good boy,” I growled, tightening my fingers in his hair. I gave him a few vicious pumps, then pulled out and slapped my glistening shaft against his cheek before stuffing his mouth again. “Show me how sorry you are.”

Defiance glittered in his eyes even as he obeyed, his head tilted back and his jaw stretched wide to accommodate me. Color stained his cheekbones. Drool slipped down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. His nostrils flared as he absorbed my brutal thrusts. The King’s Grove filled with my harsh breaths and the slick, fleshy sound of my cock punching into his mouth.

His erection was a swollen bulge between his legs. He had to be aching. Probably, he wanted nothing more than to stroke himself to release. But he was trapped on his knees, subject to me in every way possible. The knowledge was its own kind of pleasure.

My orgasm struck in a white-hot flash—blinding and painful in its intensity. A guttural cry broke from me as I thrust a final time and pumped seed down Rane’s throat.

He swallowed around my cockhead, tight tissue milking every last drop from my dick. My breath sawed in and out of my chest as I stared down at him, mesmerized by the ripple of his thick throat. The flush in his cheeks and the hard line of his jaw. When I was spent, I pulled from his mouth and braced a hand on his shoulder. He pressed his forehead to my thigh. The cool air of the Grove teased my damp, softened shaft. Together, Rane and I caught our breath.

Someone cleared their throat.

With an inward curse, I straightened, hastily tucking myself away before pulling Rane to his feet. Belatedly, I realized the newcomer’s arrival had floated at the edges of my consciousness for several seconds.

I just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge him.

Rane licked come from his lips, which threatened to tighten my dick all over again. Gaze on a spot over my shoulder, he straightened his clothes with unhurried movements.

“Othor,” he said a touch louder than necessary, “you always have such excellent timing.”

“Behave yourself,” I mouthed, reluctant amusement tugging at me.

Rane grunted.

Hiding a smile, I faced the High Priest of the Autumn Court. Othor stood at the edge of the fountain, the tip of his Edeloak staff resting on the ground. The hem of his robes dusted the grass. The breeze played with his honey-blond hair. Blue eyes the same shade as mine were serene—and seemingly unbothered by Rane’s obvious irritation.

I knew better.

“Cousin,” I said, stepping toward Othor. “I think I can guess why you seek an audience. But I don’t presume to know anyone’s mind.” I smoothed a hand over my beard. “If only I could persuade others to follow my example.”

Behind me, Rane huffed.

Othor inclined his head. “My apologies for intruding, Andrin.” He looked past me, a line forming between his brows. “Are you certain it’s wise to be so…active around the Edeloak?”

Rane came to my side. “In my grandfather’s day, the whole court used to fuck in the King’s Grove for a fortnight to celebrate the harvest.” Rane leaned toward Othor and lowered his voice. “That’s two weeks.”

Othor smiled thinly. “Thank you, Rane, I had no idea. It’s not like I’ve written any books about the history of our people.”

He’d written several, along with numerous treatises on magic and the Old Language. And his staff wasn’t merely ceremonial. For a priest, Othor was no slouch in battle. Rane’s stab wound had healed, but he was undoubtedly fatigued from maintaining a shadow tether through the Edelfen. If he and Othor came to blows, I wasn’t certain Rane would triumph.

“What brings you here, Cousin?” I asked. “You have my attention, as well as my trust.”

Othor’s features smoothed. “I’m glad to hear it. And as you’ve probably guessed, I wish to discuss the Lady Mirella.”

“Yes,” I said. “What of her?”

“I should question her without delay. If not tonight, then first thing tomorrow.”

Rane stirred at my side. “You mean torture her.”

Impatience flitted through Othor’s eyes. “Magical intervention, Lord Rane. It’s particularly effective on humans.”

“Because they can’t defend themselves from it,” I said, the idea souring my gut. “You would pull her worst fears and memories from her mind and torment her into giving you information.”

“Information we need,” Othor said. “Time is precious. We’re running out of it.”

As if I didn’t know that. As if the knowledge didn’t haunt my every waking moment—and keep me up at night. As if I didn’t wake from a cold sweat every time a dead leaf fell from the Edeloak.

“It could break her mind,” Rane told Othor.

Othor raised his eyebrows. “You took her from Eftar against her will. Marched her across the Edelfen and dragged her into the courtyard on your tether. Now you’re concerned about the state of her mind?”

Rane’s eyes flashed. “She’s Walto Lornlark’s daughter—and an elfkin. Properly motivated, she could be a weapon. If you ruin her, she’ll be useless.”

“Her elven blood will protect her during questioning,” Othor said. “Her mind will hold.”

“That’s your opinion. One based on nothing, I might add.”

Othor’s brows climbed higher. “As opposed to yours? Which is based on being as contrary as possible regardless of the circumstances?”

Rane’s smile was vicious. “Your hypocrisy astounds me, Othor. You scold me for sucking cock under the Edeloak even as you walk around with its cast-off sticks shoved up your ass.”

Othor’s expression went frosty. “At every turn, you show yourself to be crude.”

“And you show yourself to be an insufferable, judgmental son of a?—”

“Enough!” I barked, slashing a hand through the air.

Both men fell silent, although the tension remained.

I looked between them. “We’ll achieve nothing by tearing at each other’s throats. I depend on both of you for good counsel. I need you to work together. Otherwise, you might as well be working against me.”

For a moment, neither man said anything. Then, Othor nodded. “I spoke incautiously. Rane, you have my apologies.”

Rane looked as if he’d just chewed glass. But as I let my stare bore into him, he returned Othor’s nod. “My words were uncalled for. I also apologize.”

I let my gaze linger on Rane a moment longer before turning to Othor. “I understand your reasons for wanting to question Mirella. Maybe it’ll come to that eventually. For now, however, I’m capable of questioning her myself.”

If Othor was disappointed by my decision, he didn’t show it. “Of course,” he said, offering a shallow bow. “Forgive me, Andrin. I let my fears run away with me.”

I forced a smile. “I think we’ve all fallen victim to that, Cousin.”

Othor murmured his agreement. Then, with a final, brief bow, he left.

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