Lady Night, page 19
That, perhaps, the murderer could be standing with them in this room right now.
It was Arabelle who said, "Yes, Mayor Boeheart. We understand."
"Good," Boeheart sighed, a breath of relief. To Orville, he said, "Captain, if you and your men could please escort the Guardians to their rooms?"
"Of course." Orville's expression was schooled into one of professionalism, but the triumphant glint in his eyes was unmistakable.
As they began to make their way out of the study, Derek felt Orville come up close behind him. Felt Orville's warm breath uncomfortably close to his ear as he whispered, "Try playing at being the big, tough Guardian all you want, but all you'll ever be is my brother's little whor—"
Derek struck Orville before he could finish.
The next few moments were a blur. It was as if he were in a kind of trance, and all Derek could comprehend was the white-hot anger searing through him with the ferocity of an inferno. His body moved of its own accord, reacting to the desperate, visceral need to tear Orville limb from limb.
Somehow, he'd knocked Orville to the floor, shattering a nearby vase along the way. Derek's fist slammed into Orville's cheekbone, once, twice.
There was shouting around them. Someone called his name. Rosalie? Arabelle? He didn't know. He could hardly distinguish any words beyond the pounding in his ears. His ragged breathing.
There was blood on Orville's nose.
Pain lanced up Derek's fist.
Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, hauling him up and off of Orville.
He fought the grip at first, until a voice, a familiar voice that was soft and commanding all at once, said, "Derek, stop."
Arabelle. That was Arabelle behind him. That was Arabelle holding him. That was her touch. Her arms wrapped tight around his chest. Her fingers gripping tight to the material of his waistcoat. Arabelle.
The haze of fury began to clear from his mind. He was breathing hard, his heart beating rapidly.
"You little piece of shit!" snarled Orville from where he was being held back by Rolven.
Anger and loathing were written all over his face. Gone was the smugly composed Captain of the Guard. There was blood dripping down his nose and chin, an angry red mark already blooming on his cheekbone from where Derek had hit him.
A small part of Derek felt satisfaction at seeing the blood and bruises on Orville's face.
The rest of him felt only a numb sort of anger. Where moments ago, it had burned hot and furious, it now felt like a low, simmering heat.
"Captain Goldridge."
The Mayor's voice was low but carried throughout the room. He was on his feet now, chin tilted up and expression thunderous."You and your men can see yourselves out, I believe."
For a moment, Orville looked as if he were seriously considering flinging himself at the Mayor instead. Finally, he shook off the grip Rolven had on him and without a word or a look at anyone else in the study, he stalked towards the door, closing it behind him with a wall-shuddering bang. Rolven and the other Guard followed soon after.
Next, Boeheart turned his steely blue eyes on Derek, Arabelle and Rosalie.
"As for you three, you are to go straight to your rooms before I have you thrown in prison. I do believe you've caused enough trouble for one night."
* * *
Jared hissed in a breath as Will pressed a damp cloth to the wound at his neck, wiping away the blood that had dried on his skin.
"Oh, suck it up Princess," the other boy said teasingly. "I'm being as gentle as can be."
"Not very gentle then," said Jared with another flinch. Who knew being bitten by a reanimated skeleton could be so painful?
"Or maybe you're just too delicate, Princess."
"I think I liked it better when you called me 'Your Highness'," Jared grumbled.
They sat in front of each other on the edge of the wide bed in the middle of the extravagant tent Aurelia had conjured for them earlier, as she had done for all the Guardians that were present. "It's been a long day and I refuse to sleep on a ratty, old bedroll in the cold," she had said as she made nine, deceivingly small tents appear around their makeshift campground.
There had also been a lot of explaining to do about what the other Guardians had happened upon when they arrived at the fort only for it to collapse and Jared and the others to emerge looking as if they had just been in a fierce battle—which they had.
It had taken some time for them all to wrap their heads around being told everything Jared and the others had learned since their encounter with the lycan in White Lake, Draken, and the shards from a mirror that could very well open a doorway to the daemon realm. Carvilla Hargrade especially had been sceptical, and of course, her sons had followed suit. In the end, it was decided that there was nothing that could be done for now but to bring this matter before the King, and in the morning, Jared, Darus and Will would set out for Ember.
Once Will had finished cleaning Jared's wound, he set the wet cloth back in the basin beside them while Jared collapsed onto his back, his arm spread against the silk-soft blankets beneath him. He didn't even have to worry about covering himself back up with a shirt thanks to the crackling fire in the grate before the bed, making the inside of the tent blessedly warm. Magic is wonderful.
"Of all the things I could've imagined happening when we started on this assignment," said Will, leaning back on his palms beside Jared. "This wasn't one of them."
"Do you mean the part where we fought a lycan? Or where we discovered there might be some enchanted mirror that could bring daemons back and a crazy man who wants to make that happen? Or that we had to fight skeletons, of all things?"
"Or maybe I was talking about getting to share a bed with the Prince."
The humour drained out of Jared to be replaced with something a little more flustered. Like when Aurelia had first directed Jared and Will to the tent, she said was theirs and inside they found only one bed.
"We don't have to," Jared said, clearing his throat. "I can just sleep on the floor."
Will looked down at him, his expression serious. "Is that what you'd rather?"
He should have just said yes. But the traitorous part of him told him that no, that wasn't what he would rather. That even without the expectation of anything else happening, Jared very much wanted to sleep beside William Frain.
But what if that wasn't really what Will wanted?
He must have taken too long to respond, because the smile Will gave him looked tinged with sadness as he said, "Do I make you that uncomfortable?"
Jared sat up. "What?"
"Nothing." Will shook his head, but Jared didn't miss the troubled look on his face. "You know what? It might be best if I slept somewhere else tonight. You can have this tent all to yourself."
Will stood from the bed, but before he could get any further, Jared reached out to clasp the other boy's wrist. "You don't have to go."
"I think I'd prefer it."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because why?" Jared prompted.
"Because I like you, all right! And I'm worried all I do is make you feel uncomfortable, especially after I kissed you all of a sudden that night—"
Jared didn't let Will finish. Because Will admitting he had feelings for Jared was all he needed to gather up the courage to kiss him.
Will made a soft noise of surprise against Jared's lips. He could feel the rigidity of shock in Will's body as the kiss went on. Finally, he felt Will place a hand against his chest and Jared reluctantly pulled away, but not so far that he couldn't clearly see the vein of brown that ran through the green in Will's left eye.
"Don't," breathed Will. "Don't do this just to make me feel better—"
"I'm not," Jared said, and it was true. He wanted to kiss Will because he wanted to. Had wanted to for some time now.
But Will still looked conflicted. "But I thought Derek—"
"I don't want to talk about Derek right now. Or anyone else." And he closed the gap between them to place his lips against Will's once more.
This time Will surrendered to it completely. His arms snaking around Jared's bare waist, eliciting a pleasant shiver up Jared's spine.
Unlike the last time they kissed, outside the ballroom on the night of Derek's birthday, Jared was able to better concentrate on the feeling of Will's lips beneath his. On how soft they were. On the feel of Will's breath when he parted his lips just slightly.
As they kissed, Jared became subsumed in the sensation of it. It chased away all other thoughts or feelings and all he could bring himself to care about was Will.
They found their way back to the bed, this time with Will sitting on the edge and Jared's knees bracketing his hips.
"Is this all right?" Jared asked when Will lay pressed against the bedding with Jared hovering over him. "Do you—?"
"Yes," Will's voice was husky but adamant, his eyes half-lidded and a flush across his cheeks that Jared found all too pleasing. "You?"
"Yes."
That was all that was needed for them to resume their heated kisses and surrender to each other's embraces.
* * *
Aurelia retreated to the outskirts of the campsite. It had been a long time since she had been around so many Guardians, and quite honestly, it made her feel uneasy.
While many of them simply ignored her, there were some that kept looking at her, either with curiosity or contempt. Even hiding away in her tent did little to relieve her of her unease.
As she trudged aimlessly through the snow, Cora hopping along the bare tree branches overhead, she couldn't stop thinking about Draken's admission to Darus back at the fort. Admitting to being the one who murdered Erianna all those years ago. Even now, the shock of the revelation pounded in her veins.
There was also anger. For a long time, she only ever felt sorrow at the thought of Erianna's death. But now that she had a face and a name to put to the one responsible, rage and hatred were there to take place alongside the anguish. She now knew who Erianna's killer was, knew for certain that he was still out there. And that he was coming for her son.
"Take good care of Derek for me. I'll be around to collect him soon enough."
For what? Just what exactly did he need Derek for?
Does it really matter what his motives are? Aurelia asked herself. Whatever it is, it cannot be good.
What mattered now was protecting the boy. Keeping him out of Draken's hands.
For Erianna.
"I was wondering where you'd run off to," said a voice from behind her and she turned to find Darus Flynn. He had his hands in his coat pockets and his long hair was unbound. "For a moment, I thought you'd decided to leave without saying anything."
"Would that have been so terrible?" Aurelia wondered.
"Well, I would have been disappointed since I never got the chance to thank you for all your help."
Aurelia leaned her back against the nearby tree. "I only helped because it served my own purposes. I wanted to get my revenge on that man for trying to kill me, remember?"
Darus shrugged, as if that was of little consequence. "Regardless, thank you."
Aurelia grunted noncommittally. She could almost hear her queen mother's voice chiding her in the back of her head. "A princess responds with her words, always. Never with boorish grunts or sighs."
Only I am not a princess anymore, am I? She made certain of that.
"So, what will you do now?" Darus asked her.
What would she do? She still had yet to exact her revenge on Draken for destroying her shop and leaving her to die. But she knew now that she had no hope of defeating him alone. She supposed she could always go back to Florinstone and see what could be done about rebuilding her shop, but . . .
You know what you need to do, said that nagging voice, so similar to Erianna's, in the back of her mind.
"I want you to bring me with you to Ember."
That answer seemed to take Darus off guard. "Why?"
"I have my reasons."
"Which you're going to have to explain to me if you expect me to bring you into my home."
Aurelia gave him a withering look. "I didn't realise one needed to complete an interrogation before being allowed inside the crown city."
"No," Darus conceded. "But I want to make sure I'm not bringing a potential threat home with me."
"Weren't you just thanking me for helping you moments ago?"
"Yes, but you also admitted yourself that you only helped us for your own benefit," Darus pointed out. "And beyond your name, I really know nothing about you. For all I know, you could really be in league with that man from before and you wanting to come to Ember could be a part of some plan to attack the city."
By the Goddess, Aurelia forgot how annoying Guardians could be. Although she supposed she could not blame him for being suspicious of her, given the circumstances.
"I need to see the boy, Derek."
It just came out. There was no thought to not say it, and when the silence that followed stretched out, Aurelia almost wished that she could take the words back.
Darus was staring at her in confused shock, as if she had just said something completely ludicrous. "Derek? As in—?"
"Derek Draco. Your adopted son," Aurelia finished for him.
The expression on Darus's face seemed to darken to something that was almost threatening. "How do you—What do you want with Derek?" he demanded. "Just who exactly are you?"
It had felt like such a long time since she had been anything other than Aurelia Blackwood, outcast Wood Elf, reclusive mage and owner of Blackwood's Spells, Potions and Magical Objects in Florinstone.
It had been a long time since she had not hated the idea of being who she was before she had been made an outcast. Of being Princess Aurelia, future queen of the Wood Elves. Her mother's daughter.
Aurelia took a deep breath, as if preparing to step off the edge and dive into churning waters.
"My name is Aurelia. Eldest daughter of Queen Nyalra and Prince Eldrin. I was cast out for tampering with a daemonic artefact, in order to bring back my sister, who was banished from the Great Forest for falling in love with a human—a Guardian—and bearing his child. My sister was the late Princess Erianna. Erica Draco after her marriage. Derek is my nephew."
* * *
The nightmare began in his bedroom.
Not the bedroom back in Ember or even the attic room he had slept in when his parents were still alive. Instead, Derek was standing in the middle of the room that had been his when he lived in the Mayor's Manor. It was bathed in an eerie, yellowish light from the soundless fire in the hearth, and sitting in front of it, in a wingback chair, was Goldridge.
He looked just as Derek remembered him, square-jawed and small-eyed, with a grey moustache and receding hairline. He was dressed in the red and blue of his Mayor's robes, the material straining in places over his heavy-set frame.
Just the sight of him, sitting only feet away, struck Derek with a bone-chillingly deep fear. He wanted to run, wanted to get as far away from Goldridge as possible, but his feet were rooted to the spot.
Goldridge was staring into the flickering fire and sipping from a glass of red wine. Slowly, almost dazedly, he turned his head and fixed his dark eyes on Derek.
"Derek," he said in that deep voice that seemed to echo throughout the room. "Come here, my child."
"No," said Derek. He took a step back.
Goldridge held a hand out. "Come here."
"No." Another step back.
"I said, come here."
"No."
A thunderous look crossed Goldridge's face. He set his glass down and rose from his chair. Derek's heart pounded hard with fear as Goldridge approached.
"Stay away from me," ordered Derek.
But Goldridge kept walking towards him. "Why must you always disobey me, Derek?" he asked. "Why must you always make things so difficult?"
"I said stay away!"
There was a sick gleam in Goldridge's eyes. "You bring this on yourself."
This time, Derek turned and ran to the door. It was closed and when he tried the handle, it wouldn't move. He tried shoving at the door, but it wouldn't budge.
Trapped. Trapped, a desperate voice chanted in his ears. You're trapped with him again.
Derek cried out for someone to help him.
Behind him, Goldridge chuckled. "Look at you. All those years spent training. All those years trying to make yourself strong and nothing's changed, has it?" Goldridge's voice morphed from a deep rumble to a higher, raspier tone. Orville's voice.
Derek pounded his fists against the door. He called out for his mother. For his father.
Goldridge drew closer. "You trained for so hard and for so long. You became a Guardian, but you're still just as you were nine years ago."
Derek's knees gave out, and he slid to the floor. He shouted for Jared and for Arabelle. He shouted for Darus. For somebody—anyone—to save him.
"You're still nothing but a weak and pitiful little boy. You still can't protect anyone. Just like you couldn't protect your father or your mother or Edgar. Just like you can't protect yourself."
Weak and alone.
"And you still can't escape from me."
Derek came awake with a gasp and bolted upright.
He was in his room—the guest room he had been sleeping in since they had arrived in Windfell. There was no fire going in the hearth, leaving the room cold and shadowed. Goldridge was nowhere to be seen.
The air had a frosty bite to it, but despite that, Derek felt as if every inch of him was covered in sweat. His breaths left him in quick gasps, struggling past the tightness in his chest. He could still hear Goldridge's voice taunting him. Could still feel his hands—
Derek tore the blankets off of him and leapt up from the bed. He had to get out of here. He couldn't stay in this room. Flinging the door open, he stepped into the hallway.
He made for the bathroom at the end of the hall and, without even stopping to check if it was occupied, pulled the door open and went for the sink, turning on the cold water with a twist of a handle. Dipping his still trembling hands underneath the fall of water, he splashed it onto his face, uncaring of the way droplets dampened his hair and the front of his shirt.
