7. Finnian

SEVEN

FINNIAN

I don’t know what to make of the lunar eclipse. Dark Fae are highly attuned to the moon, just as Light Fae are with the sun, and I know for damn sure there wasn’t supposed to be an eclipse tonight. It didn’t act normal, either. The shorter ones last around thirty minutes. This one was there and gone in five at the most.

I’m still staring up at the moon, lost in thought, when Taryn speaks. “Finn, not that I’m not grateful to have my Armas back, but do you want to explain how something that was taken from me while in captivity came to be in your possession?”

There’s a sharp wariness in her eyes, and I notice she’s taken at least two steps back from me. Her lean muscles, honed from centuries of training and fighting, are tense, ready to attack or bolt, depending on my answer.

Her distrust in me shouldn’t sting like it does. Even with everything she’s witnessed me do to help her in the last twenty-four hours, likely the only reason she agreed to come with me was because she witnessed Dmitri offer me the Blood Oath. She trusts him , and he trusts me.

Part of me feels like that should be enough for her, but then I remember that she wasn’t there with us all these months as we worked together tirelessly to find her. While we were out here, she was locked away from everything and everyone she loved, constantly weak and in pain from the iron walls caging her in. I can only imagine what that kind of treatment does to a person’s ability to trust outsiders. Especially a royal from one of the courts her mother banished.

So, if she needs to grill me all night before she’s satisfied I’m on her side, I’ll answer every question without protest.

“Edevane left it behind when he stole an ancient artifact from our Temple. I think he wanted us to know that he had the daughter of the One True Queen. He told me he wants revenge for our exile, and being the egotistical asshole that he is, bragging that he had Aine’s only daughter was something he couldn’t pass up.”

“What did he steal from you? And how? I would’ve thought you’d protect your Temple to keep anyone other than Darks from entering.”

Sighing, I stare down into my glass and swirl the whiskey around absently. “It’s a long story.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have nothing but time.”

She steps in again, closing the distance she put between us when she was unsure of me. A small gesture on the surface, but its impact on me is bigger than that. I don’t know why what Taryn thinks or whether she fully trusts me is so important. Maybe it’s my Verran pride showing, wanting to maintain our reputation for being honorable. Maybe it’s because Dmitri and I have grown close over the last year and as his adopted sister, I want her to know me as he does.

Or maybe it’s because of the torch you’ve been carrying for her from the moment you held her Armas in your hand. The one that’s only gotten brighter since laying eyes on her.

Downing the last of my whiskey like I’m doing shots to forget an ex-lover, I mentally close the door on any and all fires burning inside me. “I suppose it’s time I catch you up on some things. Let’s head inside and get comfortable.”

I haven’t forgotten about the eclipse and the strange shock we got earlier. Although I’m sure there are logical explanations for both, better safe than sorry.

She follows me inside and pulls the sliding door closed behind us. I pause at the wet bar to refill our glasses, then she takes her wine and curls up in the corner of one of the couches. I settle into the large armchair perpendicular to her.

“I’ll try to give you the abridged version,” I say, smoothing a hand over my jaw, thinking of how best to start. “A couple months after you were taken last year, Edevane attempted to assassinate my oldest brother, Caiden, while he was king by using the blood curse.”

“Wait,” she says, leaning in over the arm rest. “ While he was king? He’s not king anymore?”

My mouth hitches up in a half-grin. “Hold on, we’ll get there.”

“Right, sorry. How did he use the blood curse?”

“He manipulated situations that ended with Caiden marrying a female named Bryn Meara in a drunken Vegas one-night-stand, complete with the fae bonding ritual. Then he made several attempts on Bryn’s life.”

Taryn nods in understanding. “Edevane couldn’t kill your brother because of the treaty between your courts. If either king kills the other, his own life would be forfeit. But the blood curse gets around that. Kill the queen, and the curse will kill the king for you.”

“Exactly. So when Caiden and Bryn fell in love for real, the only way to keep her safe was for my brother to abdicate. If he was no longer king, Edevane would have no reason to harm Bryn. As next in line, Tiernan ascended the Midnight Throne.”

“And that’s when Edevane stole the artifact?”

“Not quite. First, he used a bunch of propaganda footage to create an extremist hate group of humans called the New Purity Order who used hag stones to hunt our people. With Fiona’s help we infiltrated the group and took it down, along with Edevane. After we captured him, we took him to the iron cells beneath our Temple.”

Taryn’s brows shot up toward her hairline. “Oh damn. That wasn’t by accident, I take it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I grate out before taking a healthy sip of whiskey. “Getting caught was the only way he’d ever get inside our protection spells. He wanted in, and we walked him right through the front fucking door.”

“You couldn’t have known that, Finn. I get that it’s frustrating—believe me, I know. Wishing I would’ve seen what was coming is something I have a lot of experience with—but focusing on the past doesn’t help you in the present.”

Locking my gaze onto her soft lavender eyes, I ask, “And are you good about taking your own advice?”

Her lips twist into a rueful smile. “Not in the least. Doesn’t mean it’s not solid.”

I nod. “Anyway, I went to see him because I had a bad feeling I couldn’t shake. He told me a story about my grandmother stealing the Spear of Assal from his grandfather and claimed our Tri-Stone was the spearhead, glamoured. Then he broke out of the cell using some kind of spell, and the glass case that held the Tri-Stone was empty, except for your necklace.”

Taryn shifts and draws her feet under her further, almost as though she’s uncomfortable, but I know it’s not due to the Italian leather couch. “Is something wrong?” I ask. I watch her expression carefully, but it doesn’t give anything away. Her features are relaxed and serene.

“My Armas means a lot to me,” she says, her hand curling around her pendant protectively. “I was infuriated when it was taken from me. To hear that Edevane used it as a common taunt in whatever game he’s playing doesn’t sit much better.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would.” Taryn lowers her hand again, and I stare at the way it nestles against her brown skin. “Does it always feel so…alive?”

Her brows draw together over the bridge of her nose. “Alive how?”

“As soon as I held it in my hand… I don’t know how to explain it, but it felt like I was supposed to have it. There was this energy that vibrated through my body wherever the pendant touched. Instead of holding onto it or slipping it into my pocket, I put it on as though it was the most natural thing to do. I told myself it was the best place for it until I could lock it in my safe back home, but…”

Fuck me, this is going to sound bad when I say it out loud. Scrubbing a hand over my trim beard, I blow out a breath then pull out a coil of black nylon rope I stored in the end table drawer. If I have to admit to being an Armas junkie, I’ll do it while self-tying a gauntlet on my forearm as a distraction.

As I shake out the thirty feet of rope, I force myself to continue. “I couldn’t bring myself to take it off. I felt connected to you with it on, almost like I could sense your presence. Sometimes I even thought you were trying to communicate with me through it.”

“I assumed one of the guards had it. If I’d tried communicating with them, it would have been more of a death threat vibe.”

My mouth quirks up. “Makes sense,” I say as I hook the middle of the rope on my thumb and wrap the two ropes it creates behind and around to the front. Looping and threading, I make a rose knot on the inside of my wrist, then repeat the wrap-around and knot process.

“At any rate, the first UFCO fight I had after that, I forced myself to leave it in my locker to keep it safe. I hated every fucking minute of that fight. I managed to focus on what I was doing, but the whole time I could feel the Armas scratching the back of my brain like it wanted to make sure I didn’t forget it was there.

“Each time I took it off for a fight, the reactions got worse. My skin felt too tight, my hands shook; the need to get back to it consumed me. But as soon as I put it on again, it all stopped, and this wave of calm would roll through me.”

Taryn’s eyebrows lift. “That sounds like drug withdrawals, Finn.”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s not like that for you, I take it?”

“No, never. I have a sentimental attachment to it because my father had it made for me, but I’ve never felt anything like what you described.” She chews on the corner of her lip for a second, her brows drawn together in thought, and I focus on adding another rose to the gauntlet to keep from scrutinizing what that means. “How long ago did that happen? When Edevane left my Armas behind, I mean.”

“Early March.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that,” she mutters under her breath as she finishes off her wine in one big gulp. Then she gives me a hesitant look, like she can’t decide whether to tell me something.

“It can’t be any worse than what I’ve already admitted to.”

“That’s around the time I began seeing a pair of golden eyes in my dreams. Your eyes, Finn.”

I freeze and look up. “The drawings.”

She averts her gaze as a pink hue colors her fine cheekbones. “You noticed them, then.”

My left eyebrow lifts. “Kind of hard to miss the wall that was like looking into a hundred illustrated mirrors. I forgot all about them until now, though.”

“Gods, I don’t know how. It’s more than a little insane.”

I run my teeth over my bottom lip as I drink in all the delicious details. Her guileless gaze, the pale freckles dotting her nose, and her sensuous lips that frame the most beautiful smile. The way she flips her curls over to one side, creating a style that’s equally controlled and feral, like she just stepped off the runway at fashion week or emerged from the depths of a forest. If I tried to make a list of everything about her I find attractive, it’d be a mile long.

“Guess I’ve had more interesting things taking up my focus recently.” Heat that matches mine flickers in her eyes before she delicately clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine. Following suit, I corral the conversation back to safer topics.

“There must be some connection between me finding your Armas and you seeing me in your dreams. You said your dad had it made for you. Maybe he spelled it so you’d be able to find it if you were ever parted from it. That’s why I felt compelled to always have it on me and you were having visions of the one who had it.”

“It’s possible. But it was taken weeks before that. If that’s the case then I would’ve been dreaming about Edevane, right?” She lets out a long sigh. “And I thought the only mystery was why my father chose to have it made from Luna.”

“He never told you?”

“He never had the chance. No one knew he commissioned it, and he disappeared several days before it was delivered to the palace.”

I pause mid-wrap around my arm. “Disappeared how?”

“No idea. I don’t even know whether he left of his own accord. With the security in place at the palace it’s highly unlikely he was taken, but he could’ve been off palace grounds for all we know.”

She looks down at the pendant, brushing a finger over the engraved symbol. “I’ve always had a strained relationship with my mother, but he and I were so close. My mother convinced herself that he left because he couldn’t handle being in her shadow, but Garyth Emory never cared about ruling or power any more than I did. He bonded with her as mates because—for reasons I never understood—he truly loved her.”

When she lifts her gaze again, I hold it and soften my voice. “I’m sorry you lost him, Taryn. I’m sure the unanswered questions about his disappearance must make it hurt even worse.”

She swallows hard as though choking down a lump of emotions she doesn’t want to deal with, then points to my arm. “What are you doing?”

I glance down at the gauntlet that’s almost complete. Black rope wraps around in tight rows on the top of my forearm with knots on the underside that resemble small flowers and go from wrist to elbow in a zig-zagged line. Holding it up so she can see it better, I say, “Japanese rope bondage; it’s called shibari. From the amount of rope you’ve seen, I’m sure you can guess it’s a passion of mine. This specific tie is called a rose gauntlet. With practice, it’s one of the ties you can do on yourself without needing a partner.”

Taryn leans on the armrest of the couch and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “What kinds of things can you do if you have a partner?”

I might be imagining it, but I swear there’s a glint of interest in her pretty eyes that goes beyond the educational. “There’s an infinite number of things you can do,” I say. “Simpler designs like chest harnesses or corsets, or you can get into the serious stuff that includes full body ties and suspension. When you’re done, you’ve turned someone into living art.”

“The purpose, then, is the art?”

“Not the only one, no. Another is helping with anxiety and stress in the same way a weighted blanket or acupressure does. Compression, or Deep Pressure Stimulation, switches your body’s fight or flight response to one of relaxation.”

I’m almost finished—it’ll only take another two rows before I run out of rope—and I can already feel my mind and body settling after dredging up all the shit with Edevane set me on edge.

When I don’t have enough left to go around again, I tuck the last few inches beneath the gauntlet to secure it. Then I unhook the part that’s been looped around my thumb and tuck it in at the top in the same manner. “There. I could wear this all day and it’ll stay just like this.”

She holds her hands out, and I reach over and offer her my arm. She lightly traces her fingers over the nylon rows and the twists of the knots like she’s learning the shapes and testing the tightness with which the rope is holding me. With each stroke, I imagine what it would feel like if the rope wasn’t there, if instead she was tracing the veins in my forearm and mapping them out in her mind.

“It really is something how you were able to create this out of a single stretch of rope, and with only one hand.”

“Yeah. The first time I saw a shibari scene, I was hooked. It’s not only creative, but for the person doing the tying, the rigger, it also requires a lot of knowledge about the body, like where bundles of nerves are and the circulatory system, so they know what’s safe to do. If you’re going to suspend someone, you need to know a lot about anchors and pulleys and leverage. I love the challenge.”

When she pulls her hands away, I tell myself I can’t miss her touch when she wasn’t touching me to begin with. Needing another distraction now that the other one is done, I get up and head for the bar. “You want another drink?” I ask, pouring myself another three fingers of Teeling 32-year-old single malt.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Lifting the glass to my lips, I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a drink.

“Why don’t you do a tie on me right now?”

The liquid almost goes down the wrong pipe, but I save myself with a quick clearing of my throat. Turning to face her, I raise my brows. “You sure?”

Taryn lifts her chin obstinately as though I’ve dared challenge her. I imagine there aren’t many people who question her when she says something. If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, she’ll learn quickly I don’t pander for pandering’s sake.

“I’m curious what it will feel like, if it’s as calming as you say. But I don’t want you to do my forearm.” Then she rises from the couch and crosses to stand close enough that I have to drop my chin to hold her gaze. “I want something bigger.”