Chapter 1

" T or," I breathe, hardly believing what I'm seeing. Slowly, I take small steps towards him, my footing light, as if I could startle him and he might disappear. He's wearing that grin that I love seeing and associate only with him, but he's watching me with careful eyes like he's unsure of my reaction. Stopping just before him, I run my gaze over his familiar form.

He's tall like the elves, but where they're slender, he has a much thicker build, his muscles demanding attention from the clothing he's wearing. He's got a loose white shirt on with a leather and fur cloak, which he must be boiling in, since the temperature in Galandell is much milder than what he's used to in the mountains. Fatigue lines his features, but his dark eyes are bright. Dark braids run down the center of his head where he keeps his hair long, the tattoos standing out on the right side of his scalp which is shaved. His usually well-kept beard is shaggy from days of travel, and I have to fight the urge to run my hands through it.

Just looking at him like this, rugged and out of breath with his axe resting on his shoulder, you would think him a brute, but he's one of the most compassionate people I've ever met.

"Is this real? Are you really here?" I ask quietly, my whole focus locked on the man in front of me. I'm scared this is a dream, that I'll wake up in my bed and he won't really be here.

"This is real, Clarissa." Voice low, he closes the gap between us, his eyes simmering with an emotion I can't quite place. "I found you." His hand comes up and cups the back of my head, his fingers threading into my hair in a move similar to what Vaeril was doing just minutes ago. A blush covers my cheeks at the thought, but Tor doesn't seem to care, and for a moment, I think he's going to kiss me, but a cough fills the room and he stiffens.

Remembering we have an audience, I take a small step back, still within touching distance, but enough that I can breathe easier. Looking around, I notice Vaeril is right behind my shoulder, glaring at the tribesman, and Naril is still leaning against the doorframe, more relaxed now that the immediate threat is gone. It's Eldrin who surprises me. He's entered the room and seems to be trying to control himself. His hands are in such tight fists that I can see the whites of his knuckles.

Frowning, I start to take a step towards Eldrin, who looks like he's in physical pain. "Are you okay?" I reach out to him, but he jerks away as if my touch would burn. Freezing, I look over at Naril for help, yet he just shakes his head slightly, his eyes locked on his brother.

"Why are you here?" Eldrin growls at Tor, who's just watching him with a raised eyebrow. In comparison to the elf, Tor is standing casually like he's unconcerned, but I see the tension across his shoulders. I've seen him in action, and I wouldn't want to be on the opposing side in a fight. Memories of when Vaeril and I escaped Arhaven flash in my mind, and I remember how fierce Tor was in battle, effortlessly swinging his axe.

Turning to me, he points a thumb towards the fuming elf, but otherwise completely ignores him. "Your elf friend here has some serious anger issues." I want to chide him, and I want to know how he's here too, but whatever I was about to say is drowned out by a loud growl.

Eldrin storms towards us, pushing me out of the way as he stands in front of Tor. Everything happens quickly then, my human senses struggling to keep up with the supernatural speed of the elves. Clutching Tor's shirt, Eldrin pulls him close, his other hand fisted and hanging at his side. Vaeril and Naril join him immediately, trying to put some distance between them, the latter whispering elvish to his furious brother.

"Answer the question!" he bellows. Naril manages to sidle up and between the two of them, facing Eldrin as he continues to speak in elvish, his tone urgent.

To Tor's credit, he doesn't even flinch, nor does he try to fight the elf or reach for his axe, which is still resting on his shoulder. It would be so easy for him to hurt Eldrin, to push him away, but he doesn't.

"Eldrin!" I call, and something seems to change, like my voice snaps him out of his trance. His shoulders droop, and he releases Tor. He doesn't move, his eyes still narrowed and fastened on the tribesman, but the violence has left his body.

"Come, brother, now is not the time for this." Naril switches to the common tongue, his eyes flicking to mine over his twin's shoulder.

"You know him?" Eldrin inquires. He's still looking at Tor, but it's obvious the question isn't directed at him. I'm about to answer, but I'm beaten to it.

"I know him, he's a…friend of Clarissa's," Vaeril confirms, stepping closer and meeting his friend's gaze. It's obvious he's not pleased about Tor's presence, but he also knows how upset I would be if Tor was to get hurt because he didn't step in. Besides, he— we —owe Tor. If he hadn't caused a distraction at the castle, we never would have escaped Arhaven. "She's safe," Vaeril states, but this seems to be the wrong thing to say.

As he pushes away from Tor and the two elves, I notice the anger in Eldrin's expression as he turns to face me. "I didn't ask if she was safe."

The words are like a slap to the face, and no matter how much I try to control my reaction, I know he's seen something in my expression. Anger and frustration burn within me. Why do his words wound me? I barely know the male, and he's been nothing but rude to me since I arrived. I don't get upset when Naril says something like that, in fact I would expect it from him, so what is it about the scarred warrior that winds me up so much?

"Eldrin," Vaeril calls, stepping closer to me and placing a hand on my shoulder, obviously feeling my pain through the bond. "You should go now, we are fine here."

Eldrin's gaze is locked on Vaeril's hand where it is touching my shoulder, and he wears a complicated look on his face. When he raises his eyes to meet mine, he pauses for a couple of seconds, and I get the feeling he's waiting for me to say something. When I don't, his expression shuts down and a blank mask settles over his features. Taking a step back, he turns suddenly and storms from the room, his twin following closely behind him.

"I'll return for you later, Ambassador Torsten," Naril announces, pulling the door shut behind him, wisely knowing we'll need privacy for this conversation.

The room is blessedly silent. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the weird mood Eldrin has put me in. Thankfully the heavy tension that settled over us all left with him. I can feel their expectant eyes on me, but I use the quiet to my own advantage. The last couple of days have been busy with a lot of revelations and unexpected events, one of which is standing just before me.

Letting out my pent-up breath, I open my eyes and look at the two of them. Vaeril appears tense but dignified, his back straight and face arranged in that carefully neutral mask the elves seem to favour. Tor, on the other hand, is the opposite. His smile widens as I look over at him, his eyes lighting up, and I can feel a small grin appearing on my face. His happiness is infectious. But despite his cheerful demeanour, exhaustion lines his features, and I can tell by the way he's standing that he's in pain.

"Let's go sit down, then you can tell me everything," I suggest, leading the way into the sitting room at his eager nod. As I pass Vaeril, I brush my hand across his with a questioning look on my face, silently asking if he's going to stay and hear Tor's story. Nodding once, he follows behind me, although he doesn't look happy about it.

When we reach the comfortable sitting room, I sit in my favourite armchair opposite the huge window that overlooks the best view in the palace. Tor takes up residence on the large couch, settling in the end closest to me as he looks around the room with a raised eyebrow.

"Very nice," he murmurs quietly. I don't think he meant for anyone to hear it as he runs his hands over the soft fabric of the couch. Vaeril enters the room, but instead of sitting, he just leans against one of the walls opposite Tor, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh good, this is how it's going to be. The thought is sarcastic as I frown at the elf, but I can tell from the stubborn set of his jaw that he's not going to sit down no matter how nicely I ask him. Shifting in my chair, I turn to look at Tor.

"How are you here?" I inquire. The question has been practically burning a hole in my stomach since I saw him standing in my doorway.

"No hug? Didn't you miss me?" His hand comes to his chest as he feigns hurt at my lack of a warm greeting. When I saw him standing there, I wanted to run into his arms and breathe in his masculine scent, to run my hands over his skin and remember the contours of his face, but that's not something you do with someone you hardly know. Especially when you were just kissing someone else who is still in the room, watching the other man with narrowed eyes.

"Tor." Thankfully I don't need to say anything else. My voice conveys the fact that I'm only barely holding it together. A quick look of concern flashes over his face, but he simply nods and leans forward.

"After you got away, things escalated pretty quickly. We escaped and had to lie low for a while until we could return to our tribe." His voice is serious now, and I know without having to ask that people lost their lives. He was helping children and their parents escape the castle and the cruel king, so I just hope that most, if not all, managed to get to safety.

I think back to that day Vaeril and I escaped. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it's really only just been under two weeks since we left. My gut clenches as I think about the consequences of my desertion, and I pray to the Great Mother that the friends I left behind are safe. I don't know where Jacob disappeared to, but the king wouldn't hurt his own son, would he? Memories of the king slaughtering his wife make a wave of nausea roll through me. No one is safe from the tyranny of the king, not even his kin. Wilson would protect Jayne and Aileen to the best of his ability, but I can't help but worry. And what about Grayson? What about when he returns to the castle to find me gone? What is he going to think? Everyone saw me escape with Vaeril, we weren't exactly covert, so he's going to find out I left with an elf. He's going to think I betrayed him.

"The king has declared war on the tribes," Tor continues, and I close my eyes tightly, dread flooding my body. This is my fault. "It was only a matter of time," he reassures me quickly, noticing my guilt, "but it makes things more difficult. I knew I had to find you, and I would've come sooner, but there were some…complications." Opening my eyes, I frown at the way he says ‘complications,' but he avoids my gaze and continues with his story. "Anyway, I'm the new ambassador between the elves and the mountain tribes. I was supposed to go meet the queen, but as soon as I found out you were here, I had to find you."

Oh, fantastic, another reason for the queen to hate me . I wince at the thought, knowing it's true. Shaking my head, I look over Tor, taking in his exhausted form. If he hasn't met the queen yet, he has a long day ahead of him. He should go see her now instead of wasting time with me. But I can't ignore the little part of me that is glowing at the fact he came to see me first. I'll have to add that oddity to the list of many things that happened today that I need to sort through. My mind is a mess.

"How did you find her?" Vaeril queries, his voice even, but there's a note to it that implies his question is more of a demand, and not answering is not an option.

"I followed the—" He cuts off when he sees me shaking my head, my eyes flicking over to Vaeril. Thankfully, he understands what I'm saying. "I followed the trail of destruction. Plus, I knew you had her and figured this was the first place you would come," he replies with a shrug, as if it's not a big deal that he crossed kingdoms to find me. Vaeril watches him with an unreadable expression as Tor speaks, glancing over at me once before looking back at the tribesman.

"You came here for me?" I meant the words as a statement, but my insecurities made my voice tight, causing it to sound more like a question, one I really want to know the answer to.

"I came here for you," he confirms, somehow knowing I needed to hear the words. Something hums within my chest, and I know it's the link between us. "It helped that the chief wanted to create an alliance with the elves, so I volunteered for the role," he continues, and I know this is aimed more at Vaeril than me. The elf shifts, and I know he's going to start grilling the tribesman about his new role, pick it apart, but now is not the time for that. Instead, I frown at something he just said.

"Chief?" I echo, realising I know next to nothing about Tor or his life with the tribes. Until they were introduced at the castle by the king, I only had a vague knowledge that some people lived outside the reach of the kingdom, but that was all I knew.

Nodding, Tor leans back in the chair as he explains. "The high chief is the leader of my people. We live in small tribes and have our own leaders, but the high chief unites us."

"And he sent you," Vaeril questions sceptically, making it obvious that he doesn't agree with the chief's choice of ambassador.

" She sent me." For some reason, Tor looks at me as he says this, and I get the impression there's more he wants to say, but he holds his tongue.

She. Another female in a position of power. Arhavien's believe they're the most cultured and progressive race in the land with their riches and power, but I realise they're stuck in the past. They still rely on slaves, and women are unable to rise to a position of power, only to be pawned off to the highest bidder. If only they could see what happens outside the strict views of the kingdom.

"Could I talk to you alone?" Tor shifts forward in his chair as he speaks, his eyes locked on me.

"Absolutely not," Vaeril objects, finally leaving his post by the wall to sneer down at the tribesman.

"Vaeril," I caution, frowning at his behaviour. Pushing up from my chair, I walk up to his side and gently place a hand on his arm. Instantly, he looks down at where my hand rests, his expression shocked, knowing I still struggle with casual touch. I'm not gripping him or pulling, merely resting my palm against his skin, but the contact seems to be more effective than if I had dragged him away. "I'll be fine, I trust Tor," I assure him, and he looks up from my hand to meet my gaze.

"But I don't," he replies clearly, his eyes narrowing as he ignores the tribesman who's watching us with interest.

"You fought together at the castle the day we escaped. You trusted him to guard your back then, what's changed?" The question has been bugging me since Tor arrived and Vaeril showed him nothing but thinly veiled disgust.

"You, that's what's changed," he barks. I suppose his comment could be thought of as romantic, but he said it like a curse, like he's in pain. Removing my hand from his arm, I clutch it to my chest and take a step back, needing some space between us as I frown at his words. His answer wounded me more than I care to admit. Staring, I wait for him to explain, to backtrack, but he doesn't, he simply watches me with a scowl.

He starts to reach out as if to stop me, but when he realises what he's doing, he shakes his head and lets his arm fall to his side. "We had to escape. He distracted the guards so we could leave. That's it," he explains, as if what Tor did was simple and expected of him, instead of being an act that could have gotten him killed.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I arch an eyebrow. "You make it sound so selfish." I know I'm picking a fight with him, but I can't seem to stop myself, his earlier comment making me feisty.

"Selfish? I had been enslaved for over a century. I waited for you—" His face contorts with anger as he takes a step towards me. The menacing look and the move trigger a memory, it's only a flash, a silhouette of guard, but the recollection of the pain that followed is enough to have me moving instinctively away. I step back and raise my arms to protect my head, but I don't look where I'm going and bump into the armchair and fall back into it with an ‘oomph' as the angry elf advances towards me. Vaeril promptly freezes, and a look of mortification crosses his face. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I know he wasn't going to hurt me, and I need to tell him that, but I can see from Tor's firm expression that he's not going to let me apologise.

"Look, I'm exhausted. I just want to speak to Clarissa before I meet with the queen. I don't know when I'll get another opportunity," Tor says, as he appears at Vaeril's shoulder, cutting off the elf's rant. I'm grateful he's pulling the attention from me and giving me a chance to compose myself as Vaeril turns towards him, anger still coursing through his body. "I would guard her with my life," the tribesman vows.

Vaeril stares at him in silence, until he finally makes a growling sound in the back of his throat. "Fine, I'll be in the courtyard training." His voice is much lower than usual, and I'm reminded again that he's not human. "If you lay so much as a finger on her, I will know, and I don't care if you're an ambassador, I will kill you," he warns, only a couple of inches from Tor as he glowers at him.

To Tor's credit, he doesn't flinch. "I understand," he replies simply, but it's enough for Vaeril to turn and lock his eyes on me. I know he's not really angry at me, but the look he gives me makes me shiver.

I don't know what's gotten into him. He's been altogether too chatty, telling my story to every elf who happens to ask when he doesn't have the right to. Earlier…well, earlier I was too caught up in lust and got carried away. Thankfully, Tor arrived in time for me to cool my head, although having him here makes things much more complicated.

Without another word, Vaeril turns and leaves my room. Tor waits until we hear the click of the door closing before he closes the distance between us and offers me his hand. Taking it appreciatively, I stand and look up at my friend.

Friend . The word doesn't quite fit. It sounds hollow as his eyes rove over me. We're close, close enough that I can feel his body heat and his breath brushing my hair. Smiling down at me, he reaches out, his hand hovering near my cheek. Vaeril's warning is still fresh in both our minds.

"A lot has changed since the last time we saw each other." His voice is quieter, husky now that it's just the two of us. My stomach flips at being this close to him, remembering the last time we were like this. Closing my eyes, I bask in his presence. Something calms within me now that he's here and I know he's safe.

Memories flash behind my closed eyelids. He held me, our bodies pressed together. The sound of fighting erupted around us, booted feet nearing as more soldiers came flooding into the courtyard…but my whole focus was on the man before me. His lips pressed against mine, a slight possessiveness in the way he pulled me closer,only serving to make me want him more.

Peeling open my eyes, I see he's watching me with a predatory gleam, and I know he's remembering the same memory as me. There is nothing I want more than to close the last couple of inches between us and relive the memory, but I know I'll have to instigate it. In the courtyard, he kissed me, but I get the feeling he won't do anything unless I make the first move. Awkwardness suddenly fills me as I remember what Vaeril's lips felt like pressed against my own less than an hour ago. A blush colours my cheeks, and I take a small step back, clearing my throat as I look away, trying to fill the silence between us.

"I'm sorry about Vaeril and the others," I offer, still looking around the room, unable to meet his gaze. "They're…protective."

His light chuckle has me looking up and seeing his wry smile as he rubs a hand over his beard. "I can't blame them."

There's a brief silence again, and I shift from foot to foot. He fills me with conflicting emotions I don't know how to deal with. Part of me wants to throw myself into his arms, inhale his masculine scent, and explore his skin to discover exactly how many tattoos his clothes hide. But the more sensible side is chiding me—I am in way over my head. Tor hasn't kept his desires for me a secret, and I do feel pulled towards him, but then there's Vaeril, who just dropped the bomb that we're mates. And I don't even know what to think of the connection I have with Grayson.

I miss him so much. I just hope he's safe and his connection to me doesn't put him in danger. Closing my eyes, I reach for the link between us, stroking it gently. Two of the glowing links within me are bright, practically humming, while the one that connects me to Grayson is dim, but it's still strong, and a feeling of reassurance reaches me as I touch it. I would know if something awful happened to him, right?

A gentle cough has me opening my eyes. Tor is watching me with an expression I can't decipher. "Tor, why are you here?" I finally ask the question that's been bugging me since I saw him in my doorway.

"I told you already. I had to find you," he repeats. He doesn't step any closer, respecting the distance I've put between us, but I know he wants to, I can feel his need to be close to me.

"Why?"

"I think you know why." He levels a look at me. "Don't try and play dumb, Clarissa. We have the ematus ," he explains, reverting to his native tongue. Ematus. The word has power, and it rolls over me, my breath hitching as my wrist glows softly as if in confirmation. "I followed it to find you. When I first met you, it flared to life within me and I knew then."

He pauses, and I can tell he's trying to decide how much to tell me. I hold my breath, knowing what he's going to say. I'm not sure I can deal with that knowledge right now, and he seems to sense it, shaking his head.

"I think I know some information about your past," he tells me instead, and my eyes widen as I remember what I learned today.

"Vaeril thinks I'm part elf!" I blurt out, and his eyebrow rises in a questioning gesture. "They think they worked out who my grandfather was. The library here is huge, there is sure to be more information." He appears shocked, and I can't say I blame him. "Will you help me look for it?"

"Yes, of course," he replies instantly, and looks like he wants to say something else, but after a second, he closes his mouth and shakes his head slightly, smiling at me. "It's good to see you again, Clarissa."

My chest warms at his sentiment, and I'm so conflicted that instead of returning the compliment, I ask questions. "What happens now?"

Rubbing a hand through his braids, he shrugs slightly. "I meet the queen, and then I'll begin my duties." His expression turns serious as he pins me with his dark eyes. "But there is more we need to talk about."

"Why can't you tell me now?" Anxiety floods my body at the prospect. If he tells me what I think he's going to say, then I'm going to have to choose and I don't want to do that. Not yet…even though I can't seem to stop myself from prodding. Wouldn't it be better just to get it over with quickly rather than drag it out? My heart thuds painfully in my chest even at the idea of it, but thankfully, he just shakes his head.

"Now isn't the time, plus, the queen is expecting me," he explains, and I nod in agreement, trying to keep the sympathetic expression off my face. Just because the queen and I don't get on doesn't mean Tor won't. "I'll see you soon, Clarissa," he says with a smile, stepping forward and taking my face in his hands.

For a second, I think I was wrong, that he's going to kiss me as his eyes drop to my lips. I can see the struggle in his gaze, but he lowers his lips to my forehead instead, kissing the skin there as he breathes in my scent. Without another word, he turns and leaves my room.

"Bye," I call to the empty room a moment too late, still dazed from his presence. Staring at the door, I wrap my arms around my stomach. The room suddenly feels large and too quiet.

What have I gotten myself into?