44
VEYKA
My mind mirrored the whirling eddies of the void. Arran showing up in the training courtyard, looking every inch the male he’d been before that horrible day in the cursed clearing. Watching Barkke and I sparring. I could feel the weight of his gaze, the pressure of the bond between us so demanding I’d nearly staggered under the force of it.
But the mate I’d known would not have intervened. He knew me well enough, trusted my skills enough to let me defend myself. My Arran would have known that Barkke, for all that he was a well-trained and brutal terrestrial warrior, was no match for me.
The urge to spar with him when he demanded it had almost overwhelmed me. Were we ever more whole, more attuned to one another than when we battled hand to hand, blade to blade? Yes—when we fought side by side.
Because the only thing I missed more than the warrior who had challenged me in the sparring ring of the goldstone palace was the male who had taught me to trust myself and my magic.
And I almost gave in. I knew that fucking him would be devastating. But feeling the weight of his battle axe, pushing itaway, battling against someone who was actually my match… I craved it. I craved him. And still, it would have been a mistake. For so many reasons, not the least of which was it made me vulnerable, and I could not allow that in front of the terrestrials. Not if I wanted them to heed my warnings about the succubus, to truly accept me as their queen.
Then the anger in his gaze, the fury that set his eyes burning not with desire but with wrath… I had to get him away before he shifted. I had not seen Arran in the moments after my disappearance from our Joining, but I understood the loss of control and the consequences of it. Ripping apart our enemies was one thing, punishing those who betrayed us; those I would always support. But the Brutal Prince was known for his control; we could not afford for him to lose it, no matter what damage I’d done to his soul by shoving a sword through his heart.
I moved quickly. Even with my mind in tumult, my heart threatening to shatter inside of me, I was in control of that ember of magic inside of me. I stepped through the void, bringing Arran with me, and knew that it would work. That even though my power was tied to him, and our relationship was in fragments, I still commanded the void.
Arran, however, had no idea what to expect.
He hit his knees hard as we landed on a mountain top, one of the many we’d woven our way between on our journey to Eilean Gayl. Still firmly within Annwyn, but far enough away that even a flying terrestrial shifter would struggle to reach us in the time it took to have this conversation.
“What was that?” Arran demanded.
No blades of grass elongated to reach around my boots and hold me in place. I supposed that was as good a sign as any. He was angry, but he did not view me as the enemy. At least, not as one who needed to be restrained. Not yet.
I licked my lips, taking a step back to give him space to gain his feet and still keep plenty of cold mountain air between us. “The void power.”
His laugh was sharp, humorless. “That is a legend.”
“If you have trouble swallowing that, just wait until you hear what else I have to tell you.” He did not laugh at that. I crossed my arms over my chest. For once, not to highlight my breasts and taunt him, but to protect myself from the inevitable pain. “Not a legend. A prophecy. One that you and I fulfilled on the day of our Joining.”
He stood, and suddenly the several feet of space I’d put between us was not nearly enough. I could see the fight in every inch of his powerful body. He’d dressed in the terrestrial style, drawing from an armoire or bedroom that had probably been his for hundreds of years. Despite the cold, punishing wind ripping across the mountaintop, he did not shiver. No hint of gooseflesh rose along his exposed throat. I imagined I could see the uppermost branches of his Talisman. I wanted to trace every line with my fingertips, to feel his heart beating beneath. Maybe that would ease this shattered, broken thing inside of me.
But Arran did not move toward me, and I would not force myself upon him. His jaw ticked and the familiarity of it nearly brought me to my knees.
I’d never known anyone so well, not even Arthur. There had not been enough time. But Arran… I recognized the clench of his muscles and the tightening of his jaw. I knew him intimately, and I’d let him know me. That loss felt as painful as the memories.
When he opened his brutal slash of a mouth and spoke, his voice was hard but calm. “Tell me.”
A command from the Brutal Prince. Not my husband or mate.
Half a day he’d been at Eilean Gayl, and he already knew something was wrong. Why else would we be here and not in Baylaur? Why else would he be missing his memories?
Slowly, I exhaled. I forced my arms to relax and hang at my sides. Arran’s expression was hard, that unforgiving mask he wore to keep all other emotions at bay so that he could make clear decisions and intimidate those around him. I was not intimidated by him, but by the scope of explaining the last year of my life. Everything had changed. I had changed.
I turned away from him, looking out across the tall green mountains. The higher peaks around us were dusted with snow, but this one was all grass and craggy rocks. It was still brutally cold. I did not bother trying to encase my heart in ice as I summoned up the words to explain. There was no protecting my heart from Arran. There never had been.
“Seven thousand years ago, the Ancestors fought the Great War,” I began.
“I know the history—”
“No. I don’t think you do,” I said sharply. I leveled him a look that promised violence if he interrupted me again. He stared right back. When I did not back down, he crossed his arms and lifted one black eyebrow. I would not get any more agreement than that.
“The Great War was not about the Terrestrial and Elemental Kingdoms. Or at least, it was not entirely about that. The exact details are vague, but…” I chewed over my next words. What to explain, how much, to a male who did not know me and had no reason to trust me. The truth; or as close to it as I could manage. I owed Arran that much. “Our Ancestors were not fighting each other. They were fighting something else, something worse. A great darkness.”
I waited for any sign of recognition. A flicker of his black eyes, a shift in his stance, anything to indicate that he sensedthe gravity of what I was explaining, that he recognized the importance of this on some subconscious level, even if he could not fully place it.
Nothing. He truly does not remember.
