Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

TAMAS

I circled, catching a turbulent ride from the winds racing down the Draghunn Mountains. With my keen eagle eyesight, I spied Ledbric Hall nestled on a small plateau above the forest line.

It was perhaps the most imposing structure in the northern realm, which suited Kaldor's personality. The last I heard, Garrat remained at Ledbric Hall, using all his diplomatic guile to convince Kaldor of the benefits of an alliance for the people of Wilhelm. Kaldor would need the promise of glory or money to commit his men to a war with the south, but if anyone could succeed in convincing him, it would be Garrat.

After my experience in Emberforge, I wasn't ready to face probing questions from Kaldor regarding my legitimacy in claiming the Bone Throne. He gave scant attention to augury, believing all of them crazy, and thought little of the Nazeen because they had refused to recognize him as overlord, which he believed would give him legitimacy to claim their magic as his to command at will.

Instead of landing at Ledbric Hall, I penetrated the thick forest on the eastern side and found Garrat already waiting.

We embraced. "How're things in the north?" I asked.

"Progress is slow for now. Kaldor senses the need for haste, so he's dragging his feet. He's hoping to extract a few more promises before he commits."

"As was expected. For the Huungardred's sake, don't give him rein to make too many bargains."

Men like Kaldor were the reason Thaindrus had asked me to marry Bryra. Kaldor wanted Huungardred land, expanding his lands to abut the borders of his rival, Malundrad. Huungardred land, while buried deep in snow for half the year, was extremely fertile, rich in mineral wealth, and excellent for hunting, and that would add to Kaldor's wealth.

"He requires special handling."

I patted Garrat on the back. "You're up to the task. I have faith in you." Then, I turned from his questioning gaze before he asked if his faith in me was misplaced.

We both turned in the direction of Osmud as he crashed through the forest. My breath hitched upon seeing Bryra coming alongside him. Damn you, Osmud. Of course, he'd do something like this to annoy me. I had secrets she couldn't hear, and I felt uncomfortable around her now, which saddened me.

"Have we missed the important bits?" Osmud said, stomping through the thicket toward us.

I rubbed my forehead and glanced at Garrat, who held up his hands as if to say ‘keep me out of it' and leaned against a tree.

"Bryra, you look well." A lame comment to make to a dear friend.

"We're keen to hear the progress you've made in the south," Bryra said.

I glared at Osmud. He simply shrugged. "Please, give us all the details."

"The Salmun's eyes are everywhere."

Osmud turned to Bryra. "See, I told you he'd start with an excuse."

"When dealing with wizards, things can't be easy," she countered. Never before had I felt suffocated by her persistent belief in me and enduring faith in whatever action I took. Now, I wondered if it was a need to please me. I loathed the idea. She was a bold woman, a fierce fighter, a loyal friend. I never wanted to see her diminished, not even for love.

After I murdered my father—I could give no other name to my action despite what others said—to claim my place as Razohan leader, Bryra, along with Osmud and Garrat, was the first to stand by my side.

My actions pained Thaindrus deeply. It took him a full turn of the seasons before he was willing to listen to my reasons. Not even Romelda could get through to him, but, without a doubt on her behalf, Bryra believed my actions were justified. The guilt at not answering Thaindrus's request gnawed a hole inside my heart. Even more so now my attention was utterly divided by Tressya.

"Let's start with the basics. Are all four of our enemies still alive?" Osmud said.

I rubbed my temples. "Tell me the fourth, and I'll reply." I should've spoken to Garrat alone.

Osmud gave me a long look, as if he thought me a child. I returned it.

"How about we stay with our three greatest concerns," Bryra said.

I flashed her a grateful smile, but she held my gaze, and I could feel the choking hands of guilt tightening around my throat. As my dearest friend, she deserved honesty.

"The king and his sons still breathe. The Salmun stay close."

"Are you trying to tell us as a Razohan you can't get close without raising suspicion."

"You've never stepped foot in Tolum. You wouldn't know how it is."

"Is that an invitation?"

I forked a hand through my hair. "I entered Emberforge."

That got everyone's attention.

"This is good," Osmud said. "It's progress. Just hold the conversation. It was a long flight." And he headed off through the trees some ways to find himself some privacy.

I took the opportunity to berate him, so I nodded to the other two and headed after him. Caught taking a piss, I had his undivided attention.

"Why did you bring Bryra?" I growled, attempting to keep my voice to a whisper.

"To make you feel awkward."

"Did you not think it would also make Bryra feel uncomfortable?"

He glanced over his shoulder at her through the trees. "She looks perfectly at ease. If she were uncomfortable, it would be because she felt guilty. And since she has nothing to feel guilty for, she's not uncomfortable." He quirked a brow. "You, on the other hand, look ready to climb out of your skin."

"I'm dealing with things the way I know how."

"Not the Razohan way to be sure," he said as he tied himself up.

"She's not meant to die?" I snapped, then regretted it. Osmud was there when the augur spoke, but he understood nothing. "And I won't let it go this time if you think to punch me again."

"It didn't help you the first time," Osmud grumbled. "I know what this is about, Tamas. Stop dragging that burden around. Your father…" He looked back at the other two, deep in conversation. "He wasn't the same after he lost your mother. Everyone saw it."

Having shunned augurs all his life and driven to near insanity by grief, Father sought one out. In the augur's teachings, he either learned the truth or heard a lie; no one would ever know. He became obsessed with becoming the next Bone King, driven by the belief that the Etherweave was powerful enough to bring his dead wife back.

I looked past Osmud to Garrat and Bryra. Both would echo Osmud's words.

"Don't question your right to the Bone Throne. And don't question your fidelity to your people. None of us do. It's what makes the difference between a good king and a wicked king."

I clamped a hand on Osmud's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks for that, but you'll want to take it all back when I tell you I bit her."

"What the fuck?" Osmud exclaimed, pulling away from my hold.

The other two looked our way.

"You better have a damn good explanation for doing that," Osmud lowered his voice and glanced over his shoulder. "If I'd known you'd lost your mind, I never would've brought Bryra. There's no way you can accept Thaindrus's request now." He stepped away, shaking his head. "What were you thinking?"

"Not enough and yet too much all at once. I never wanted to accept Thaindrus's request, you know that." I strode a few paces, running my fingers through my hair as if I could pick out every jumbled thought to lay before me, giving me a chance to understand more clearly.

Due to my profound connection with Thaindrus, I was not as na?ve as many Razohan, including Osmud and Garrat, about the true depth of the mate bond. Since all mated partners in the north paired with their own kind, none had the opportunity to fully appreciate what I gained by bonding with Tressya.

"This was a cock thing, wasn't it?"

"No, that's far from…" Did I want to keep lying? "I'm…" Feeble-brained when around her. "Did you understand anything the augur said?"

"Not a word."

I placed my hands on my hips and bowed my head. I wasn't ready to divulge my thoughts about Tressya just yet. For now, I clung to a deep-seated hope, kindled in Emberforge, that sudden flush of confidence that my instincts about her had been correct. I believed something extraordinary could emerge from this, provided I could gain her trust.

"The other two need to hear this." And I left Osmud glaring at me and returned to Bryra and Garrat.

"Tell us," Garrat said. "What does it look like?"

"It's a mighty thing, the likes you've never seen. I sat upon it."

Osmud laughed, losing all the anger of moments ago. "Getting a feel for it, were you?"

The memory was filled with a certain someone, a detail I would never reveal. I paused a moment, losing my narrative as I remembered hiding in the narrow passage while she changed back into her dress. She promised to stop me from ever claiming the Bone Throne, with no idea how true those words might be.

"That's not the end of it. This is going to sound crazy," I glanced at Garrat. "I swear King Ricaud's spirit came to me."

"You're right, it does, but I'll go with it," Osmud said.

"What do you mean, Tamas? How did he come to you?" Bryra asked.

"When I sat upon the throne, suddenly I was filled with… I can't explain, but for a moment, he moved through my soul. I felt… like I was a king. It's the only way I can explain it."

"That has to be an omen," Garrat said, surprising me. He was never one to give credence to anything mysterious. My father's misguided actions had entrenched his steadfast disdain for augury.

"It's good news, indeed," Bryra said. "I believe his spirit has chosen to reveal itself to you in a favorable way because he sees you as worthy."

For a breath, I feared she'd overheard Osmud's rousing speech, but if she had, she wouldn't be smiling at me encouragingly. My admission about the bite wouldn't be pleasant for her to hear. But no, this was Bryra being Bryra, a loyal friend. And damn that the thought stung.

"Perhaps so. I felt undefeatable." I held back from mentioning the Etherweave. I believed that was what the King's spirit had bled inside of me. For one moment, I felt its raw power.

"That's what we want to hear," Osmud said.

"I also found a chamber under Emberforge, some sort of library. It was stuffed full of ancient texts. All the teachings King Ricaud gathered during his reign, I would say. I'm sure the Senjel Oracles are hidden in there somewhere."

"What makes you so sure?" Garrat asked.

"I don't know. It seems logical. Emberforge is the Salmun's stronghold now. What better place to hide it? Somewhere they would believe no one can penetrate? I need another apostle and more time in there."

"Not yet," Garrat said. "We need to stick with Romelda's plan. First, we fight. When we win, the Salmun will have no choice but to surrender all to you."

Garrat was right. Killing the heirs and winning the war would get me the Senjel Oracles without too much bother on my behalf. What I didn't reveal was my urge to sit upon the Bone Throne and feel the majesty of King Ricaud's spirit residing within me again.

Or was it the power I chased?

****

Upon returning, the first person I sought was Tressya, reaching out through our mate connection. Although the bond was weaker than most—since she had not taken my blood—as long as she didn't escape to the north, or across the sea, she was within my grasp to find.

At the moment, her heart raced unusually fast. The bond allowed me to delve into the nuances of her emotions, but I had to contend with the faint connection we shared, lest I risk breaking a sacred soul vow: never to intrude without consent. And consent, which was symbolized by mutual bite marks among mated partners, was something Tressya had yet to grant me.

Curiosity pricked, I probed for her whereabouts. "Strange indeed."

She was not in Emberfell. The princess had missed the second ball, an event celebrating her nuptials. Turning on the steps of Emberfell, I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, searching for that elusive sign that would lead me to her.

A chuckle escaped me upon the discovery. It was certainly intriguing. I made my way down the steps, crossing the gravel grounds toward pockets of wilderness now shrouded in darkness. Before reaching the trees, I let go of my human guise, spread my wings, and soared into the night sky.

Settling in a quiet alleyway across from Daswood Manor—a grand manor situated in the borough of Upper Heedlemain—I whispered, "What brings you here, little princess?"

I straightened my jacket and removed a few stray feathers from my collar.

With the streets nearly empty at this late hour in Tolum, her choice of time made sense. Smiling, I crossed the road, scaled the iron fence with ease, and landed among the flowers, their sweet scent released underfoot. After selecting the most vibrant among them, I placed them in my breast pocket.

There was no need for such a covert approach to Bloodwyn's residence, but I had chosen not to alert the staff of my return. I slipped along the right side of the manor, heading for the kitchen entrance—a modest adjunct to the main house.

I had left no instructions for dinner, allowing the kitchen staff a night off—a decision that now seemed providential. In the corridor, I paused to pinpoint her exact location. Sensing her, I continued, slipping into the dining hall to avoid a servant, then hugged the wall into the reception hall. The library lay across the room, its large wooden doors firmly closed. Entering through them would betray my presence.

Instead, I crossed the reception hall to the right chamber room. Through a private door, I could access the library. The chamber was dark, lit only by moonlight streaking across the floor, as no candles burned within.

I clenched my teeth, hearing the small door creak, then waited for two heartbeats before sliding through.

In the library's far right corner was a circular room with a view over the front garden. The drapes were drawn, and a single candle's soft yellow glow cast shadows around the space.

Tressya was at a large oak desk, rifling through a stack of papers likely retrieved from the shelves or the cabinet. Bloodwyn had been a hoarder, and that extended to documents detailing his financial dealings since inheriting his title. I puzzled over what she hoped to uncover in what must have been a tedious search.

Approaching her with the silent stealth of a Razohan, I positioned myself behind her and drew the flowers from my pocket. I leaned over while encircling her with an arm extended to the desk for support, my other hand presented the bouquet.

She let out a shriek and swung her elbow back swiftly, aiming for my face. I dodged to the left, giving her space to slip from her seat, which she pushed into my shin. The candlelight glinted off the silver of her blade as she stabbed at me. Anticipating the attack, I seized her wrist, pulling it wide and driving the blade into the chair's wood.

"Asshole," she spat.

"That's hardly the way to welcome someone into his own home, especially if you're a thief."

"I'm not stealing anything."

"You're pilfering information, princess. And you certainly weren't invited to my home." I tugged her arm toward me, forcing her to release the blade.

Her right hand, balled into a fist, swung at my nose. I ducked, captured her around the waist, and hoisted her onto the desk, sliding her backward until she was pinned beneath me—my body compellingly nestled between her legs.

"Let go of me, beast-man," she growled.

I tussled with her until I had both her arms pinned over her head."Now why would I do that?"

"That's right. You're no gentleman."

"And tonight, I'm more beast than man, so mind your tongue."

I stared down at her, watching emotions flicker across her face. Then, for one moment, I lost myself in the thrill of my lust, pumping down into my groin, and tuned in to the flow of her feelings before I realized what I was doing. Dammit, I'd crossed the forbidden threshold. Snapping to my senses, I pulled back, but not before I momentarily linked with the wild rush of an insatiable hunger, and I just about grew fangs, intent on trailing them down her throat.

Before I could quell my growl of frustration, it was out. I clenched my teeth, forcing my ragged breaths to calm. Once I felt sure my breathing was even, I said. "I'm curious what you hoped to find amongst all this boring paperwork."

"You'll be in debt soon. All that gambling and whoring."

Bloodwyn no longer had to worry about his mounting debts. "I'm unlikely to be around long enough to suffer the consequences."

"What will happen to Bloodwyn when you leave?"

"Do we need to talk about that man?" The truth would ruin her mood.

"Fine. We'll talk about the Razohan?"

"I find any conversation about you more stimulating." I tried to keep my concentration on our conversation and not on the fact I was nestled between her legs.

"The Razohan are descendants of King Ricaud's daughter, Ammelle."

"Is that a question?"

"I'm gathering my thoughts. Which is impossible in this position," she snapped.

"I'm glad you feel it too."

"Frustrated, yes. Angry, you betcha. Like I want to scream at the top of my lungs."

"Passionate emotions are always a good place to start." I stifled an inhale to avoid smelling her fragrance. There were already too many things about this moment wrecking my concentration.

She struggled. "Get off of me."

I relented, fighting my desire to steer a tendril of my link into her heart. I squeezed my eyes shut. Since I'd forced this connection on her, that would be the ultimate betrayal.

Begrudgingly, I released her, then retrieved the chair and slid down into it, feeling wrecked from all my restraint.

"The Razohan as a topic of conversation are off-limits."

"That leaves us with nothing left to talk about." She slid off the table, but I snagged her around the waist and hauled her onto my lap. She gasped, but to my surprise and delight, she didn't fight me.

"You're too fond of manhandling me."

"You feel too good to stop manhandling."

I caught her inhale but won the fight with my smirk, else she would jab me in the ribs or climb off my lap.

What flared my nostrils and set my blood on fire was her leaning forward, using one hand on my chest, as she reached over the back of the chair and dislodged her dagger. I should know better than to let her have a dagger in her hands, but her hand on my chest pinned me in place like a boulder.

The cold bite of steel caressed down the side of my neck and around to rest on my throat. "Am I going to turn into a beast?"

"No."

"Thank the stars."

"On the contrary, you'll miss much as a human."

"And be constantly picking stuff out of my fur? I don't think so."

I took note that she didn't lean back when I leaned forward. "What I really meant was our bond."

"We have no bond." She held up her wrist. "Except for this unfortunate thing."

"Mated partners benefit a great deal from their bond. Especially during sex." I let the word hang, staring into her expressive blue eyes as I did so, absorbing the full impact the word had on her.

It lasted breaths longer than I thought it would, her gaze staying with mine for tantalizing heartbeats.

She blinked. "It doesn't bear thinking about." And slipped off my lap.

Liar. I saw the pulse in her neck jump, saw the small flare of her eyes. I let her go, thinking about sitting myself in the cold water trough outside.

A knock sounded at the main door, and given my current problems, I growled at the disturbance this created. Maybe it was for the best. Nothing good was going to come from constantly being in her presence, except having my mind twisted about, making me forget who I was and why I was here.

"Curses," I growled, launching to my feet and stomping across to the window.

Parting one side of the drape, I peered out onto the portico, then groaned upon seeing Lord Dowel standing at my door. Tressya came up beside me and looked out.

"Lord Dowel," she hissed.

"The oaf has got his days wrong."

"You invited Lord Dowel?" Her voice rose at the end.

"Not tonight." I released the drape. "The idiot."

I glanced at her outraged face.

"By your expression, I'd say you know of his plot against the king."

Her mouth gaping, she shook her head. "And you hope to join him."

"You know why I'm here, Tressya." I speared my hands through my hair, feeling on the spot with her accusatory glare. "It's in my best interests to know all the goings-on in Emberfell. I plan to pick apart his scheme and see if there's anything useful."

I caught her hand before it connected with my jaw. "You're under my protection, so you needn't be so mad about it. Nothing will happen to you."

"Arrogant asshole. As if I need your protection. Whose protection are you under?"

He frowned. "That's not necessary."

"So you think." She pulled her hand free. "I should thank you."

"I agree, but will you?"

"Yes, I will. Sometimes during our interactions, I forget who we are. I forget we're, in fact, on opposing sides, and that it's in my best interests to learn to hate you. At some point in our conversations, you always end up reminding me of the truth. So thank you."

I wanted to save her the bother and stab myself.

" Learn to hate me. That means you currently don't."

"I slip between loathing and disgust."

It was too late; she was already marching out of the circular room. I slumped onto my desk, frustrated with the way I continually mucked things up.

"Tressya," I said.

She kept her back to me.

"The hunt is tomorrow."

Slowly she turned to face me. "I hope not to see you there."

"There's no one better than me in a hunt. You can be sure I'll be there."

Her quizzical gaze lingered for moments. I could see her mind working hard trying to work out why I'd even brought it up.

"Then I'll take two daggers."

"That might be wise."