Search Results

14 Slightly Different My maid, Dolly, had finally finished pearling my hair and was now ready to move on in my preparations for the Clark ball tonight. I looked in the mirror. Noting the silver bands pinching tendrils of my hair by my face. And pearls were woven through the upsweep of curled hair atop my head. The silver and white created a striking effect in the dark shade of my hair. Dolly had, I acknowledged, done rather well since I had been particularly unenthusiastic during the whole process. “Ready for the dress, miss?" Dolly's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I groaned. Dreading the ball more by the minute. Still, I dutifully rose and lifted my arms. Dolly slid it over my head, and all the layers of my ruffled undergarments. She had to guide the skirt over my petticoats, to ensure the hem was perfectly arranged around my legs. Then she adjusted each bow along the ruching, so it sat perfectly faced. She tightened a few laces at the back of my waist and fluffed the short sleeves. “Perfect, miss." “Mmm." I harrumphed, muttering my thanks as I breezed by her. “You're welcome miss. Do you need anything else from me?" “Not unless you can get me out of going to this ball." I threw over my shoulder. My voice echoed in the hall. “I cannot.” Dolly said almost cheerfully. Undeterred by my defeatist attitude. I was met at the top of the stairs by a footman who helped me down the stairs in my long skirt. Then into the carriage. Mother was already there waiting for me. “Kylie..." “I know mama. Behave. You've told me enough for it to be branded on my brain." “Then why do you still insist on not doing so?" “I do my best. ‘Tis not my fault none of them can think any further than the perfect fold for their cravat." “Perhaps you might find one more interesting to talk to should you deign to speak to them." “Mmm," I murmured doubtfully. Not wanting to argue. “Kylie!" She threw her hands. “What!" “You might at least pretend to be interested in these balls. We go for you, after all." “Perhaps we should not." Mother gave me a vastly disappointed look. “Don't eye me so." I told her. “It’s not as though I’ve neglected to say so afore. I'd be content at home with my books and paints if you tire of dealing with my antics." “Is that what you’re about? Trying to have your Aunt Rose, myself, and your sister all let you wither away like a plant dying without sunlight?" “Yes!" Her expression soured. “Well, that won't be happening.” She said haughtily. “Perhaps tonight you could look around and actually see some of these men. You might be surprised." I snorted. “Fine. Be as stubborn as a mule." The rest of the carriage ride was quiet. My mother's aggravation with me was tangible. Perhaps I should've felt bad, but I found myself feeling nothing. Hollow. As I had for so long. When the carriage stopped and I rose to climb out, my mother caught my arm. “Kylie. Please understand, your father and I leave granted you numerous seasons in order to find someone respectable of your choosing. But I’m afraid the clock is going to run out in a few short months when the season comes to an end.” I eyed her warily. “So I'm afraid that we can only give you until the end of the month to find one of your own. If you do not, then we'll be forced to arrange one for you." I shot her a startled look. “You must be jesting!" “I am not." I looked at her, seeing she was dead serious. “You'd sell me off? Just like that?" “Yes." “To some withered old soul, I suppose. Like what happened to Miss Gable?" “It is generally the older gents who are the most willing to wed a girl whose seen numerous seasons." She acknowledged. Opening her mouth to say more. I cut her off. “I won't let you steal my freedom. Or my right to choose!" “Then do so!" She threw up her hands. “Don't make us choose for you!" I scoffed, shaking my head as I climbed from the carriage. *** The ball was just as monotonous as expected. Very few new faces and, unfortunately, far too many of the old ones. The good thing about the gentleman that I was already acquainted with was that they had been on the marriage market as long as I, and thus knew better than to publicly risk my disdain. It was only those that were new to the playing field that approached me to sign my dance card. But they grew anxious when they realized all the gossips were talking as they approached me. Which should be a signal. I thought. I wordlessly jutted my wrist to all who asked. Allowing them to scribe their names on the card attached to my wrist with a ribbon. All while I absentmindedly sipped punch with my other hand. A skill which I'd become quite adept at. However, it almost drew my attention when one of those would-be suitors was so forward as to brace under my wrist as he signed the card. Touching me a bit more intimately than was typically permitted. I didn't bother to acknowledge the behavior. “Good evening, Lord Byron.” I heard mother murmur near me. She gave me an expectant look, but I sipped my punch instead of returning it. I knew that those gentleman so bold, were generally rakes of the first water. And those were easily discouraged by an utter lack of my attention. Which was what I had in store for each of them. Still, that one lingered a moment, his gaze probing my profile before he too gave up. Once my card was full, I was permitted to stare at a tapestry along the far wall, in peace. I was ablet to admire all the fine details which the artist had hidden in the forest scene. It was the only perk of the Clark’s annual ball. Their fine artwork. There were several pieces that I liked to sneak off to peer at. I glanced at my card to calculate when I might be able to creep off to do assess the other pieces in the foyer and great hall. I groaned when I saw every line was full. I could use some time to myself. I was already feeling a bit overwhelmed. I didn’t understand how all the other eligible misses didn’t seem to experience the same suffering I did. Dance after mindless dance consumed my time. Whiling away the first hours. For about the sixth time, I was guided onto the floor to be drawn close by my partner. I saw him in my peripheral, moving as smoothly as silk. He turned me and brought me close. I stared past his right ear. Glimpsing dark hair in my peripheral. “Do you make it a point to ignore all your dance partners, or just me?" He queried. “Oh, I assure you it's nothing personal." “So you do admit to purposely behaving rudely?" “Is being disinterested rude?" “Contempt is." “We may end this dance early, if it better suits you?" I offered. He scoffed. “Not at all. Knowing you want it to end so quickly makes me rather enjoy keeping it going.” “Ah, avoiding the boredom of dancing with the others, are we?” “Not at all. I’d continue, merely for the pleasure of frustrating you.” I stiffened. Vaguely surprised by that. I was almost tempted to look at him. To see what a man that daringly impolite would look like. But I refused to give him that satisfaction. That is, no doubt, what he’s trying to do. Capture my attention. I wouldn’t give any of them a sign of encouragement. I refuse. “Very ungentlemanly of you." I said boredly. Not really offended. “Well, I'm new to it. One might expect I'm not particularly suited to it." “Mmm." “Do you truly have nothing to say to me?" I noted faint surprise in his voice. I shook my head. Still looking past his ear. “Not a word." “Wonderful." He stepped away, bowing. “Well, that settles that." I said nothing. He turned and walked away. So, did I, but not before I hazarded a glance at his squared shoulders and tall frame. His hair was black highlighted in areas with dark brown shades. As if he spent much time in the sun. His hair was cropped close to his collar. But overly long, which allowed it to just curl at his nape. His gait drew my attention. It seemed familiar. I wondered if he was a suitor I’d met before. He seems faintly familiar. But I didn’t think so. It struck me that whether I’d paid him much mind or not, I’d have likely remembered a conversation with a man so blunt.

Chapter Two Hundred Fourteen Terrible Fear Dread Hideout, Dread Country Sighing, Acharius headed back toward his caves. His huge form should’ve lumbered, but he moved far lighter than he should’ve for his size. His blonde hair hung to his shoulders, a few warrior braids near his face. A fur was slung over his back with a bow and a quiver over that. He lifted the bow over his head just as he reached his chamber but paused when Alazareth’s voice summoned him back out. “Acharius!” The viking’s head whipped in the direction of the opening. Noting it was odd for Alazar to come here. Acharius ducked slightly as he emerged from the lower mouth of the cave. His massive size blocked the darkness beyond him. “Alzareth?” His eyes moved to the identical figure next to him. “Bast?” His voice dropped in concern. “What is it?” “What is it?” Acharius asked. “We need the women.” Alazar responded. “Mags and Aggie?” Acharius looked astonished. “Why?” He was reluctant to have the women go anywhere that he couldn’t protect them. Though they now appeared older than him, they were like daughters to Acharius. A fact which all of them knew. Acharius looked to Bast, skimming his gaze over him and realizing how profusely Bast was sweating. “Someone tell me what’s going on?” Acharius’s voice rose. “What’s wrong with you, Bast.” Then his brows lifted just as Alazareth opened his mouth to explain. Acharius suggested it before Alazar could. “You need help because of Elsabet?” Sebastian drew a long breath, revealing how hard it would be to explain right now. “The baby.” Acharius said knowingly. Bast nodded tightly. Acharius whipped around and returned to the garden gate of the large house which he had built for them, tucked into the woods. A house which they had named Meredith, when they were lost young girls. He now poked his head inside and shouted. “Agatha! Mags!” Both old women rushed from that house, holding up their skirts to rush out. “What’s going on?” Acharius tossed his head to the golden man next to him. “Sebastian?” Mags queried. Both women immediately averted their eyes. Aware of the effect Sebastian inadvertently had on women. “What’s wrong, Sebastian?” Aggie asked, putting a hand along her forehead to keep from looking at him. “I-I don’t know who else to go to…” Bast finally choked out. “Is it a baby?” Mags queried. “It’s-it’s…Both. She’s scarcely eating and has said her back pains her recently. I can smell the change in her. Her body is preparing.” Sebastian knew what he meant, but he couldn’t get it out. Her hormones are changing. Readying to give birth. He’d known, even if she did not.  “She’s pregnant?” Agatha asked in shock, stepping from around her sister to finally look at him. Eyes widening and pupils expanding as she stared at him. The effect of his presence taking hold of her. Oh, no. “Yes. But I don’t think she knows it’s nearly time.” He adjusted his flowing shirt with shaking fingertips. “She-She won’t know what to do.” “You’re scared for her.” Acharius stated more than asked. “You want help in-case something goes wrong.” Bast shot him a prolonged look. “When the pain grips her, her body will want to change reactively.” “To the valkyrie.” Acharius filled in. “This is her first?” Mags asked. “So, pretty…” Agatha murmured reaching out a tentative hand toward Sebastian’s hair. Already lost to the compulsion despite her advanced age. Mags stepped sideways to draw nearer him. Nudging her sister who blinked rapidly. Allowing Agatha to finally look away. Her gaze fell to avoid peering at him. “It is.” Bast confirmed in answer to Margaret’s question. “Then it’s nigh time we go!” Margaret announced. “Acharius,” She averted her attention to the blonde giant. “will you stay with her?” Margaret gestured to the House. Of course, I’ll look after her. “You needn’t even ask.” Mags nodded. “I’ll get horses.” Acharius turned to go to the village. Checking his hip to verify he had some coin on him with which to purchase them. “There’s no time.” Margaret shook her head. “You need to change, Sebastian.” “You want me to fly you?” “You can’t.” Alazareth shook his head emphatically. “It’s still daylight and you’re too conspicuous.” Bast adjusted his weight to his other foot. Looking very helpless. “I have to, Alazareth. They need to be there.” “I’ll take them, brother.” Alazar put a hand to his shoulder. “You go by cat. Get back to her. We’ll meet there.” Bast drew a steadying breath. “It’s the best way. The quickest way to get her help.” Acharius put a hand on Bast’s shoulder. A good plan. “I need to be there with her!” Bast objected. His voice fell as he added. “She won’t understand what’s going on.” “You’ll be soon behind them.” Acharius gave his shoulder a squeeze. “And he’ll ensure she isn’t alarmed.” Acharius nodded toward Alazar. “You know at the end of the day he has your back. Always.” Bast eyed Acharius. “She’s…She…” She is everything to me. “I know-we know what she means to you.” Acharius said solemnly. Lowering his head to indicate his depth of understanding. “They’re everything…” Bast whispered. I have nothing else. “I know.” Alazareth said over his shoulder. Already peering at the tree canopy to find an opening big enough for him to emerge through. “I’ll get them there.” Bast nodded reluctantly and took a step back. Throwing his shoulders and lifting his arms as he changed into the form of a rearing panther. Clawed paws flexing before him as he landed on his front legs. Already catching dirt under them to gather speed.   “Mags?” A young woman emerged from inside Meredith House. “We must go.” Margaret pushed Alazareth’s shoulder and turned him toward the gate. “Now. Before she sees the lot of us.” “I’ve got her.” Acharius murmured. Reluctantly heading toward the garden to meet the woman. *** Sebastian let out a feral roar and headed through the dense vines. Shaking off the huge leaves cloying at the low branches. Winding his way to the thin trail Acharius had worn through the woods over the years heading to his den. He heard Alazareth going to the left where there was a clearing nearby.  Be safe my Brother. Sebastian willed him. And fly quick.  Bast soon heard Alazareth’s cry and the great flapping of wings as he broke out above the trees in dragon form. The sun was lowering. Casting his silver scales nearly white in the fading light. Looking more like a cloud in motion than a beast of prey. Sebastian glanced up and had to admit that Alazareth was far less noticeable than Sebastian would’ve been. Reflecting every beam of light. Bast was sickened to know that by the time he got back to WaterRose, they’d have beat him there. And Elsabet may already be in labor. Thinking that I’ve let her down yet again. He knew Elsabet well enough to know she’d believe he wasn’t coming to her in her hour of need. He pictured her face which would be, even now, twisted in agony as she prepared to give life to their child.  That tiny heartbeat… The sound that he had been hearing every waking moment in the stronghold was about to come into this world. He could hardly believe it was real. Of all the things he’d thought his future might hold, he’d have never guessed that there would be a mate and a baby in it. Sebastian was consumed with emotion at the prospect of meeting that tiny person. He’d spent so many long hours listening to that heartbeat above or below the floor, that he had learned to recognize every nuance in its beat. The sound of her fear, or her joy. She would be the blend of he, and his mate. My mate.  It felt good to think of her like that. She doesn’t see it that way though. He knew. And that knowledge was a cold damper on his would-be joy. I wish for all of this dreaded world, that she did. *** WaterRose, Meadow Mountain, Grier country Sebastian didn’t break pace until he was back at WaterRose. His heart aching in his chest and his throat so tight that it made his breathing difficult. The house was booming with people rushing in different directions. He heard his brother upstairs barking orders. He closed the door and witnessed everyone in motion. Even Timus and his son were scrambling to keep up with the demands of the two old women. Sebastian’s stunned brain tried to take in what was happening. He trusted the knowledge of the women. They were the closest thing he knew of to a midwife that he could trust in the stronghold. It’s a risk. But one he didn’t feel like he had a choice in taking. What’s happening?  His heart sank. Elsabet’s agonized shriek cut the air in WaterRose. Making the walls crack and tremble. Like the ground beneath it was shuddering. Every torch and flame weakened then blew up to towering heights. Escaping mantles and sconces to stretch his. Sebastian blew a long breath to calm his spirit, then waved a hand before him. Soothing the rumbling and burning of the walls. “Calm, Elsabet…” He willed her. Even through his own terrible fear.

17 Pass Hold This can’t be where he lives? If so, it was going to make for a chilly trip. I held hope that we were only mooring here to replenish supplies. However, the dock was so abandoned, that I knew that was unlikely. There wasn’t the smell of baking bread or urine. There were no calling vendors, no wares to be seen. This isn’t a normal port. “The Mountain Mob?" I said worriedly. I was aware that they were all but barbarians. “Fear not." Lucien said cheerfully. “The Dark Prince himself has nearly routed them all. Most work for him now.” I eyed him askance, unassured of our safety. The Dark Prince doesn’t sound like someone willing to order the mob to leave us be.   “Those that do not have been driven deep underground. Besides," He caught my hand. Leading me toward the gangway. “you have Molly and I to protect you." Molly bumped into my elbow as she fell into Step with us. Her little way of showing me she agrees with her father. “Willem," He called over his shoulder. “bring the furs." Willem emerged a moment later, his arms laden with heavy layers. Lucien lifted a few before grabbing a scarlet one. Dusted in gray fur at the collar, and midway down the chest. A bright splash against the otherwise dark color. He wrapped a green one around Molly's narrow shoulders. Molly shifted a few times. Leaking her happiness. I smiled for her happiness. Green is her favorite color. But we were only now stepping onto the dock. Which meant Molly would have to continue to play her role as human boy. Her smile vanished as quickly as it arose. Lucien swept the red cloak around my shoulders. Latching it at my neck to keep me warm. He must’ve noticed the same as I did with Molly, because his hand hardly lingered on me before he leaned near Molly, and spoke just loud enough I could hear them. For my benefit. I supposed, knowing that they could speak in barely a whisper and hear each other. Tones I can’t hear at all. So, he let me hear those words, by choice. “Once we are home,” He said to her. “I have several dresses for you. So, you may finally dress as a miss, should you wish to. Molly’s astonishment was visible on her usually composed face. As if the possibility had not occurred to her. She hasn’t been able to wear anything like that for a long time. I felt a pang of guilt at knowing that in my desire to conceal what she was may've deprived her of things she could've yearned for all along. Like wearing dresses. And having her hair up. Like being a girl. I may've kept her from very many things. It dawned on me how sad that was. She deserves everything. *** A hut . A hut was what I had expected Lucien to live in. Even when I'd realized we were ascending into the crevices of the mountains, it hadn't occurred to me to consider beyond that assumption. But what now towered before me, nestled on a hilltop between the rises of two mountains, was perched like a booming executioner announcing his condemnation, awaiting those to sentence. “Really?" I looked at Lucien incredulously. “You must be kidding.” We had already walked for what felt like endless hours. The cold was cruel, but the cloaks Lucien had given us did their jobs. It was like being nestled right next to a fire the whole time we walked. I supposed we looked a sight. Lucien walked in his black cloak, flanked by Molly on one side in her green one and me in my long scarlet one. Which trailed over the surface of the snow like a blood smear marring the mountainside. Though I had voiced my concerns that we stuck out like sore thumbs, Lucien had assured me that no one would be bothering us this high up. Not with the Dark Prince’s men roaming the area. They keep a wide perimeter around the castle. “Not in the least.” Lucien’s voice brought me back to the present. It took me a moment to recall what I had asked. Was he kidding. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “Did you mistake me for a heathen?" “I-I thought. Well, you..." I sputtered. Lucien quirked a dark brow. After a moment, he was the one that broke the awkward silence, sarcasm penetrating his voice. “Ah, you assumed that since I behaved like a barbarian at one time, that I must surely live like one." “Would you blame me for thinking it?" His face flushed in a tight smile. “Not in the least." He offered me his arm, as gallantly as any gentleman. “Shall we?" He leaned sideways, tipping low enough to offer Molly his other one. She took it, seeming far less intimidated than I did as she smiled up at her father. “Have no fear." Lucien assured me. “I have much of it closed down to keep from maintaining a giant staff. We'll be housed in a small corner of the west wing." “Small?" I croaked. Wondering what the definition of that would be in a place this size. I stared up at towering parapets with guards on every corner. Armed with bows and arrows. Fiery torches illuminated those areas. A boy wearing thick furs worked a lever above a creaking iron gate. Which apparently, raised it. The opening it left looked like a giant maw, ready to consume us the second we entered. It looked ice cold and severe. Like something from another era. The long slender window slits glowed orange from the warming fires within. The stones were dark gray blocks knitted together. I suspected they would always have a perpetually damp look to them. Which would lend to their severe appearance. "Is it a castle, papa?" Molly asked. Already feeling free enough to openly call him that, now that we were away from the ships. We’re far from prying ears now. “Close. It is a mountain stronghold.” He clarified. “Rather like a small castle. It's meant to guard this pass as well as the hillside below." I looked around befuddled. Still, I clung to every word he offered Molly. Wanting to understand what this place was. It seemed like another hint as to who Lucien had been before. He’s always so much more willing to divulge his secrets to her. There was a bond between them that extended beyond father and daughter. A sort of kinship among monsters that made them each other’s truest confidantes as well. I almost envied their closeness. Feeling a little left out in their conspiratory glances and knowing looks. They see so much more than I ever will. “How old is it?" Molly breathed. Ancient.  I thought. “It belonged to my father." My head whipped toward him. I'd been unaware he knew of his parents at all. He never speaks of any other family.   “And before him, his father." Lucien continued. “But beyond that, I do not know…taken perhaps. From some other mountain peoples." I eyed him. “Our family took things?" Molly asked. “Your grandfather was a conqueror." Lucien said. Looking more ashamed than proud. His gaze fell. I noticed a change in him. A sort of sorrow I had never glimpsed before. I didn’t even know he was capable of it. “A conqueror?" My voice rose. “Indeed." Lucien said. “I'm ashamed to say that he, with some help, was the cause of the downfall of the great Pyre Realm." He sighed. His expression was faraway. I could feel pain emanating from him. Even Molly was giving him a questioning look. Seeming to sense he was unsettled by this old tale. “I thought you grew up in Pyre?" Molly scurried across the bridge behind him, to query. “I did." He said flatly. “It was after that." “A shame." Molly murmured. “You made it sound so... Peaceful." “It was." Lucien sounded weary, I noted. At least of this topic. “Until he came and slaughtered its people.” “Why were you there?” Molly asked. Her tone changing as she seemed to see there was more to the story too.” Clever girl. “I was a prisoner actually.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “Or at least that’s what I started as.” He sighed as if it hurt him to speak the words. “The old Mountain Mob, a ragged, barbaric lot were run by King Liam of the Markuadors. He took them down to Pyre and they ambushed the kingdom, but they lost. They were all captured, and the leader’s son was taken as a sort of insurance to guarantee that they wouldn’t come back to Pyre.” Lucien lifted his head. “But King Liam wasn’t so easily swayed by emotion. He didn’t care what happened to his son, though the boy didn’t know that. You see the boy was born weak and sickly. Unworthy of the Mountain Mob. Thus, King Liam had never really seen any use for him until then. So, you see, Liam got word to the boy from within the castle that he should study the castle’s fortifications and the training of the guards and send back word to King Liam of how to overwhelm Pyre.” “What happened?” Molly asked breathlessly. “He did what he was told. As he always had.”