Aerisian Refrain, page 41
part #1 of Beyond the Sunset Series
Maybe I loved him from the beginning. Maybe this was meant to be.
Not meant to be in any sort of prophetic way, but as if I’d found in him the half of my heart I hadn’t even known was missing. This kind, honorable man of another race, not even fully human, who was so gentle with me.
“I need to go in,” I whispered.
I found the tenacity to gather my legs under me. He rose as well, keeping an arm around my shoulders. Nothing about his composed features betrayed anxiety, but I could read his concern for me.
“You are not hurt?”
“No. No, I’m just—”
Just what? I didn’t know what to say.
At the end of my rope. Out of resources. Out of hope.
Only, as he escorted me back inside the palace, using side entrances and back hallways so nobody would see me in this condition and stop us to ask questions, I realized I wasn’t out of hope. I kept glancing up at him as I walked.
This can’t be the end. I won’t let it be the end. I’m going to fight this. I’m going to break this. I have to.
I had to because I loved him, and I wouldn’t let his life be messed up because of his connection with me. Even though he’d never be mine, I had to protect him. I also had to because Hannah was my friend, welcoming me to her home and her heart and her inner circle from the instant we met. No standoffishness, no prejudice. Just simple acceptance and loyal friendship, even to the point of standing between her husband, his clan, her fairy allies and me. I couldn’t let her life continue to be messed up because of her connection with me, either.
Most of all, I had to because this was my life and it was time for me to take charge of my destiny. For too long, I’d been deceived or influenced and now downright controlled by the Raven, the male fairies, and magic I’d inherited. When my star was burning its brightest on Earth, in a musical career in the entertainment industry like no one had ever seen, I’d thought it was all my doing. I’d been wrong. It had never been me. It had always been the magic and the Raven manipulating my magic, manipulating me, watching me, waiting until I was at the height of my powers on Earth so he could bring me to Aerisia, use me to free him and his fellow fairies. It had never been about me. It was always about them and how they could use me.
Furthermore, if the Raven was telling the truth, my very existence was another manipulation. He’d manipulated my parents into being together because he’d sensed their bloodlines, knew the odds of them creating a daughter with tremendous capabilities, one who could actually free him, would be on his side. He’d been right. He’d helped make me, bring me into the world, and then given me a voice, a platform, a career like nobody before me had ever had and probably no one ever would. He’d brought me to Aerisia. He’d seen me through to this point.
Now, I was done. The game wasn’t over yet. I wasn’t sure how I was going to end it, how I’d checkmate him, but somehow, someway I would. I had to find a way to master my power and break free of the ravens before they could use it to break free of the nether realm and wreak havoc on this land.
No, I wasn’t going to kill myself. I laid that idea aside as Cole ushered me into my rooms and went to close the door. I studied his scarred profile, thinking of the terrible wounds he’d received on behalf of a friend. Willingly throwing himself into a dragon’s path to save Hannah’s life. It was my turn to do the same. Not to face a dragon, but to face down an entire hoard of fairies. Unlike Cole, I wasn’t Simathe: I wasn’t likely to survive with mere scars to tell the story of my bravery. I wasn’t likely to survive at all. It didn’t matter. The sacrifice was one I was willing to make. For myself, because I refused to be silent, to be passive, to be controlled any longer. For my friend Hannah, for Cole, for Aerisia itself.
Is it really love if it doesn’t require some sacrifice?
Hannah’s words from earlier rang in my head, giving me courage. A mantra I’d cling to, sustaining me for whatever lay ahead. I didn’t know how some sacrifices stung worse than others, but I was about to find out.
The Simathe lord walked back to me. The door was shut and the room silent, lit only by a few moonstones. The opulent party in the Grand Chamber seemed worlds away. Stopping in front of me, he reached out to sweep away the strands of hair rain had plastered to my cheeks and neck.
“What happened in the gardens? Are you well?”
My tongue felt frozen. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain.
He waited. When I stayed silent, a tiny frown furrowed his brow.
“There is blackness on your cheeks,” he said.
“Oh.” I chuckled. Finally, I found my voice. “Mascara. The makeup on my eyelashes. The rain made it run.”
Running mascara. Back in the day, before a photo shoot, a performance, a live interview, that would’ve been a disaster. My makeup team would have come swooping in to retouch their artwork. I wouldn’t have budged till the mistake was corrected. Now, it was so far removed from anything I cared about that it was painfully funny. Without a word, Cole went to the wash basin to fetch a towel, wetted it, and returned. Carefully, he used the corner to dab the black streaks off my cheeks. I could have done it myself, but I simply stood there and let him take care of me, staring up helplessly into his scarred face, feeling my skin quiver everywhere he touched me. Electricity teemed through my body at his nearness. All I could think was how much I loved him, and how sad I was that he would never know.
When he finished, he tossed the towel aside and looked me over.
“You are shivering.”
“I am?”
I hadn’t even noticed. I was too fixated on him. When he said that, I realized between the cold spring rain and the soaked gown that he was right. I was shivering.
“You should change.” He took a step towards the door. “I will fetch your servant.”
“It’s okay, don’t bother her.” She and most of the other servants were assisting at the party tonight. “If you just get the back, I can do everything else.” I turned around. When he failed to move, I glanced over my shoulder. “I can’t reach the back laces, Cole.”
He moved then, but slowly, almost hesitantly. Too late, I understood I’d probably just stuck him in yet another strange position. It was highly doubtful he’d ever been asked to unlace a gown before. Me, in my former life I was so used to being surrounded by male bodyguards and assistants and managers and coaches that I hadn’t thought a thing about it. If he unlaced the back of the dress and left, I could do the rest. But this wasn’t my former life, Cole wasn’t like the men in those circles, and I’d certainly never been in love with any of them. I should’ve thought it through, but I hadn’t.
I knew my mistake when I felt his fingers fumbling with the top lace. Every place his fingertips, his knuckles brushed sent a trail of fire across my skin. My entire body tensed with sheer adrenaline. I was shivering harder. Some isolated area of my consciousness picked up on that fact, but it also recognized I was shivering because of his touch, his nearness, just as much as the cold. He stood so close I could feel the heat of his body transferring to mine. His warm breath on my bare neck raised goosebumps up and down my arms. All I wanted was for him to move closer, to encircle me with his arms. I knew he wouldn’t, but my breath caught just thinking about it.
His fingers remembered their natural adroitness and the laces came apart, one by one. I could feel the cool air on my back as the sides of the gown parted. As the back opened, the front drooped. Quickly, I snatched it up, crushing it between my fingers to keep it from sliding. Slowly, he drew the last lace free.
“There,” he said.
I expected him to step away. I didn’t want him to step away. I was feverish with longing to be closer to him. My eyes closed and a low moan escaped when he placed his hand flat against my right shoulder blade, ran it caressingly up my shoulder, across, and down my arm. Instinctively, I turned, turning into him, into his embrace, just like I’d done earlier when we were dancing. Only this time we weren’t in a crowded ballroom with hundreds of pairs of eyes watching. Now, we were alone, his arm was around my back, holding me still, and there was little between us except my newly discovered love and a soggy gown, unlaced and threatening to slip from my grasp.
I opened my eyes and stared up into his face. Could he see the need, the desire in mine? Could he read what I was feeling, what I wanted? To lose myself in his strength, his masculinity, his silence? To love and be loved by a man like him? He didn’t know what I did—that this might be my last night in Aerisia. My last night to live. Would it be so wrong to surrender, to give into a temptation as old as time itself?
Reason returned, piercing the haze of longing, as I stared upward, fixing on his eyes. They weren’t dropping to my bare neck or drooping gown. They were latched onto my face. A man like him—a man who wouldn’t even stay in my room, no matter how innocently, because he wouldn’t risk harming my reputation—a man who had lived set apart for centuries…
What had Hannah said?
There will never, ever be another for him if he binds himself to you. …What he will be is someone who loves you to the core of his soul, and that goes very, very deep. Deeper than you can possibly imagine.
This was nothing casual to him. Not that it was to me, either, but I hadn’t lived his life. How could I give him something like this, knowing I wouldn’t survive, and he would be left with only memories for the rest of his existence? It wouldn’t be fair to him or to me. It wouldn’t be right. It would be wrong. It couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let it.
I drew a long, long, slow breath and exhaled it, gaining control of my racing heart, calming my pulse, my blood. The silence between us was so thick my ears felt muffled by it when I said, “I better finish changing.”
He nodded.
“You—your clothes are damp too. You should probably change.”
Just like that, he nodded, slid his arm free, and stepped back. I thought it seemed like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He stared down at me for a moment, his gaze so intense it burned, then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind himself. Only then did I permit the gown to fall. My head fell with it, and I began to cry. I hadn’t cried yet. In all of the upheaval of the presence in my nightmares, deciding to walk away from a stellar career, crossing to Aerisia, and the insanity that had ensued since, I hadn’t cried, not even once. I was my father’s daughter. I never cried, but I was crying now, and I wasn’t even sure why. There was no single thing I could blame.
It was the Raven, appearing tonight, his grim warnings stripping me of hope. It was him telling me of my mama’s private, personal war, a war with something she sensed was there but nobody else believed. A war that ultimately left her a casualty of drugs, despite Daddy’s heroic efforts to save her. It was deciding to seize control of my life and end this mess, even if it meant endangering my life. It was the Simathe lord’s thoughtfulness, following me to the gardens, finding me when I was at my lowest, taking me inside, making sure I was cared for. It was realizing, for the first time in my life, that I was truly in love—and I couldn’t have him. It was because I craved him like I’d never wanted another man, but I’d let him go, refusing to give in to temptation, refusing to leave him with any regrets when I was about to leave him for good. It was because that sacrifice, above all the rest, hurt so badly.
I stumbled over to the bed and got under the blankets to warm myself, crying uncontrollably, almost hysterically. The walls I’d erected around my heart and sustained for years had crumbled. For a few minutes, I let the broken barriers lay, let my emotions overwhelm and pour out of me. I cried for everything I wanted and would never have. I cried because I was scared out of my mind to go face down the Raven, but knew I had to. I cried because a new life in a new world that had barely begun was about to end. I cried because I knew Hannah would be heartbroken when she found out what I’d chosen, found out her last link to Earth was gone.
Hopefully, one day she would understand and be proud of me for what I’d done for her, for her adopted homeland. Hopefully, one day she’d forgive me. Hopefully, one day Cole would forgive me. Even though he was Simathe, and I knew he’d be okay, I also knew if, when I died that he would be left with regrets. He would probably question himself, wondering why I didn’t come to him, why I didn’t ask his help.
I wish I could.
The sobs were slowing, stopping. I sat up, reaching for a hankie on the nightstand to wipe away the tears, blow my nose.
I didn’t want to do this alone. I was more terrified than I’d ever been in my life. However, what could Cole really do? Yes, he was immortal and had been born with certain supernatural abilities, but he didn’t have magic, and magic was what it would take to defeat the Raven and drive him and the other male fairies back into the nether realm.
Slowly, I began to get dressed. My breathing was returning to normal, and the shudders wracking my frame had stopped. Resolve took over, encouraging me.
I can do this.
I held onto that thought as I pulled on my jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. I repeated it like a mantra as I put on my jacket, my boots. I glanced around the room. Were there any weapons here? Anything I could take to defend myself? Then I laughed aloud at how ridiculous that was, thinking a mere blade could stop a fairy.
Before I left, I studied my bedchamber a final time. I wasn’t taking any weapons. I was leaving behind everything that I wasn’t wearing.
Maybe I should leave Hannah a note.
No. Pelle would probably be getting off duty soon. She’d come to check on me, she’d find the note, and it would set off alarms. I didn’t need that. When she didn’t find me in my rooms she might wonder where I was, but she wasn’t likely to worry, at least for now. By tomorrow morning, yes, but hopefully by tomorrow morning this would be over. One way or another.
During that final sweep of the room, I glanced at my bed, my pillow. An idea formed. Hurrying over to the bed, I slid my hand beneath the pillow. My fingers closed around something small, hard. Something I couldn’t bear to throw away, even at my angriest. I pulled it out.
Cole’s wooden figurine: the girl on the dragon.
I stared down at it, marveling as I always did at his ability to render such fine details on such a tiny object. I loved it, because I viewed it as a labor of love. I wanted to take it with me for a good luck charm, but I had another purpose for it. Sliding it into my jacket pocket, I turned and left that beautiful, borrowed bedroom in Laytrii’s palace, knowing I would never see it again.
Chapter 54
Confession
“Cole?”
The Simathe warrior-lord had only finished stripping off his wet clothes, damp from being in the garden with Annie, and re-dressing himself when he heard a timid knock at his door. As he’d undressed and redressed, his mind was full of her and the torment on her face, in her eyes, radiating from her person. She would not explain why she left the celebratory gathering at its zenith, after her song, exchanging the heights of praise for the cold rain of the palace gardens. She would not explain what troubled her.
Some things, however, needed little explanation, and that was what troubled him most.
His mind could not stop reviewing what had followed next: unlacing her gown, glimpsing more and more of her skin as the red satin slid apart. Nor how she had stood there, so still, barely breathing as if—as if captivated by the moment, by his touch. The sound she’d made when he finally dared touch her, surrendering to instincts so deeply buried that he had never been troubled by them before, not until he met her. The captivating feel of her skin, softer than the finest fabric the Spinners could weave…
The warrior clamped down on his thoughts. There was danger in them, futility. Never mind how she had turned and stood gazing up at him. He almost thought if he had dared take her fully in his arms, dared to press further, she would have allowed it. He hadn’t. Every weakness he had never met before her had murmured for it. Simathe mentality, Simathe self-control had forbidden it.
She would never desire such a thing.
What if she did? What if she could? Lady Hannah had proven a human woman could love a Simathe. They had been Joined, though, his High-Chief and the Artan. Nothing else could have accounted for their relationship blossoming into what it was. Or so he had always assumed. So everyone had assumed. Could he have been wrong? There was no Joining between Annie and himself, nor was there any denying how he had been drawn to her from the onset. Just as it seemed, incredibly enough, that she had been drawn to him.
His mind were still full of her when he heard the knock, heard her call his name—almost as if he had summoned her.
“Annie?”
Surprised, but concealing it, he went to answer the door. “Come in,” he offered, stepping aside to permit her entrance.
She looked ill at ease. He could not say what bothered her, but he could see her beautiful eyes were rimmed with red, as if from tears.
“What is it, lass?”
Surely she had a strong reason to seek him out in his private room.
She glanced down at her hand, where her fingers were formed into a fist.
“I—I know I told you earlier that I was leaving,” she began, “going to the Jeweled Isles.” Her words were slow, hesitant. “I felt like I should come tell you goodbye, personally, in case I…in case I don’t get another chance.”
The Simathe controlled the pang that struck. She had not changed her mind. She yet intended to sail with the Sanlyn.
She would not look up from her hand. He wondered if she was deliberately choosing not to look into his face.
“You are the most amazing man I’ve ever met, Cole,” she said finally. “You’re good and you’re kind and you’re honorable, and I’m—I’m not really used to that. From the beginning, I could see what kind of man you are, and it attracted me. I can’t get you out of my mind, I…”
He was surprised to hear her voice shaking. She stopped, swallowed hard. “I couldn’t leave without telling you that.” Her voice was trembling harder. Her hands were beginning to tremble, as well. Finally, she lifted her gaze to his, and he could see fresh tears pooling in their violet depths. “After tonight, I probably won’t ever see you again. I don’t want you to think that because you’re Simathe, or because of how you’ve always lived, because the people here can’t see you for who you are, that you’re somehow less or somehow unworthy of love. You’re not. You’re not.” She shook her head emphatically.
