Page 26 of Where We Belong

Deafening cheers erupt from the arena floor. A thunderous cacophony of war cries, whoops, and the crackle of celebratory sparks. Though, I am immediately distracted by the warm squeeze of Eira’s hand in mine as she watches the Seas Above, her wide, beautiful smile, and her little squeal warm the cold thing in my heart. The thing that wants to chain our souls together permanently, until neither crown nor kingdom could pry them apart. Kaed descends through the clouds, his powerful wings of roaring fire, onyx smoke, and ash beat through the mists. Flanking him are some of his lieutenants, accompanied by airborne beasts and riders. They land gracefully in the centre of the crowd, which parts for the King and I. Cheers are instantly replaced by a reverent silence just as Kaed stands in the clearing, clutching the Princess’s limp body against his chest. He drops to one knee, holding her as if she weighs nothing at all, and perhaps she does not. Her body looks to have been surviving on regeneration alone.

“My King.”

Kaed’s deep, husky voice reverberates through the hushed arena. He looks so different, hidden beneath the scruff of hair and scum. The King sinks to his knees before them. I stay some paces away, wondering if my uncle can smell the half-activated bond the way I can. It wears the Captain like a sickness. So rancid it is in the air, pulsing like their hearts that now beat as one. It does not seem like he can. Though it is written all over Kaed’s face, his dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. A humourless smirk tugs at my lips. He kissed her. Gently, the King takes his niece’s hand, his other lifting to stroke Kaed’s dirt-streaked cheek.

“She lives,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “They live!” His voice thunders like a rallying cry. The crowd explodes once more, joy rippling through the grounds, then coming to a sudden halt when the King raises his hand.

“As you were!” He commands, a smile lighting up his face, “Go, prepare, celebrate! We will attend to our Princess and our Captain. You will see them soon enough, and soon enough we will be free.” The crowd disperses, their squeals and shouts bubbling with relief as Pyrelings streak through the air in the hundreds, racing to deliver word that the Princess has returned.

She is still pressed tightly to Kaed’s chest, his body hunched around hers as physicians approach cautiously. Their shaking hands reach to free her, but a single glance strips the courage from their bones; it is enough to remind them he is the heir of power itself. The grandson of pure-blood rulers from every court, his parents’ union answered the Creed. Seconds stretch painfully into minutes while they work under his scowl. His growl is low and rumbles from somewhere deep, and they unclasp his fingers one by one. I chuckle to myself.

“Captain,” the King says, “I am pleased you are home. Rest and restore yourself, son. You must know that you and the Princess are in good hands. Also, you dropped something when you were last here.”

The King unsheathes a double-bladed weapon from his back, its curved edges reminiscent of a scythe.

“Swap you?” He smiles, a twinkle in his eye. Kaed’s fiery glare locks onto it. He presses the handle into the Captain’s palm just as he finally releases the Princess to the physicians. Magic shoots through the blade, which is clearly very pleased to be back with its’ owner. He stands and bows low, clutching the sword to his chest. Concern hangs heavy on the lieutenants’ faces. Their brows knit together as they watch their friend. He cannot tear his eyes from the Princess, who is now suspended in the air by the physician’s magic. The King gives me a subtle incline of his head, and I oblige, trailing behind them.

I glance back once more at Kaed. The unshakable Captain of the Kings Volker. Our symbol of unyielding strength. He takes a single, faltering step toward Nykholas, Leander and Tobian, and his legs buckle. His towering body crumples as they rush forward to catch him, their arms wrapping around him, bearing his weight. Knuckles white against their clothes, he clings to them. Silently, his chest heaves, breath shuddering, while the sobs he has not been able to release tear through his entire body.

Chapter 27

Kaed

You dragged me from the darkened deep,

so my gratitude abounds,

It’s been a week since Ashley last opened her eyes and still, I stand guard. Let them whisper of my temper, of the madness in my stare. No hand will touch her unless I allow it. The physicians can use their magic and elixirs, hook her up to all the feeding equipment they like, but anyone who values having hands should put them in their pockets and walk away when they’re done.

Her body has not been her own for months. I know that well. And when she wakes up, it shall only be touched on her terms. It sickens me. That her life has never truly been her own. She’d been born a blood sacrifice. So, if there is any shred of autonomy I can give her now, I will. Even if it means leaving her in the same dirty clothes, so no one can strip her without her permission. Of course, I cannot pretend that it was noble of me, kissing her while she died, but I would do it again. If saving her life makes me a hypocrite, then I’ll wear the title like a medal.

The King, torn away by advisors, had left after ensuring Ashley was stable. They’d convinced him it was vital to keep the people informed and calm. But those blasted Pyrelings still fill the air of the Comms Wing. “What of the treaty?” “We must storm Cinder Cliffs and take their information by force.” “Increase the bounty on the rebels’ heads; their recklessness nearly cost us everything.”

At the same time, other voices, though few, argue that we do not need to be freed at all. We shouldn’t sacrifice a life for our own gain. It could be another trick from the gods. They claim the Princess should take her rightful place on her throne after King Aeron passes, and perhaps the gods will have mercy and release us from the Mer Army if we agree to stay here of our own will.

The Prince’s visits were each marked by a fresh bunch of flowers from the King’s garden. Eira would sit beside the bed, Aiden in a nearby chair. Crossing one leg over the other, his ankle perched on his knee, tapping the side of his boot. One night, I had to disguise my laugh as a yawn when the tapping eventually drove Nyk to the brink of madness. He scratched his head violently and packed up the parchments he’d been working on beside me. Muttering, “I’ll be back later,” before disappearing down the hall. I could have sworn the tapping stopped after that. Meanwhile, I continued pouring over the stack of reports from the last year. Nyk and the others had only mildly protested my refusal to leave Ashley’s side. They know trying to change my mind is a futile game, especially now. They’d tried bringing a change of clothes, even setting up a cot nearby. But I cannot tear myself from her. Not until she wakes. My body aches, every muscle screaming for relief, but the chair I’ve been sleeping in brings a slight comfort. I’m unsure how it would feel lying flat on a soft bed again after this being my norm for so long. I drift off to sleep just fine, so there is no rush for now.

Theron and Vale had been confined to their quarters under heavy guard. Their rooms stripped of every object that could aid in escape. But yesterday, Nyk’s face was grim as he delivered the news. Vale had found a way to escape, though not in the manner I had feared. The guards had discovered his body when they’d brought his breakfast. Somehow, he’d managed to concoct an elixir from ingredients he had hidden in a candlestick. I had ground my teeth so hard I thought my jaw would shatter. He’d stolen my revenge from me. After all the begging, the pathetic cries for forgiveness. Death was a mercy I would not have granted him quickly, no matter how much my parents cared for him. Theron, on the other hand, is everything he has been trained to be. Stoic and unflinching. He hasn’t uttered a single word. The only way he would is under torture. It is no secret he cannot handle pain. But the King is adamant there must be another way.

The room is dim, and the soft glow of Ashley’s skin holds my attention. Though still mucky, patches of her flesh have been carefully cleaned to prevent infection, and her freckles have grown back. Her chest rises and falls steadily in rhythm with mine, her hands resting lightly over her abdomen. Whenever I look at her, dream of her, the bond thrums inside me. Alive and one-sided, born of that kiss. It vibrates between us like a taut string, binding me to her. I’d do it again, share my power, my life, if it meant saving hers. Nyk says he’ll tell the King in time, but for now, I must master myself around her. Learn to withstand the urges I have to take her in my arms and never let go. We’ve both seen what happens when a royal bond festers unrequited, when it twists a male hollow. Every so often, I feel the drop of her magic I received from the kiss. It’s strong. Impossibly strong. A heat that prickles in my chest and sparks down my fingertips whenever she stirs. Most of her kind had been wiped from existence in The Great Flood long before I was born, those surviving slaughtered by The Tyrant King in a purity purge. But here she is. A striking contradiction of our two worlds. Simply beautiful. Bewitching. With the sharp, defined lines of our people, but a softness that can only be human. She was the only thing I saw in the cells, the only thing I ever want to see. I have already memorised her. The way her freckles spread across her nose and onto her sharp cheekbones, the plump, roundness of her lips, and her soft, unruly brows. Sensing a change in the air, I lean forward and study the small flicker beneath her eyelids. My breath catches as her eyes flutter open and snap straight to mine. For a heartbeat, relief spreads through me.

“Ashley,” I say gently, but her wide green eyes with those amber flecks that catch the light like embers, well up with tears. Terror spills through them, and her heart beats dangerously fast, though she squirms sluggishly, pushing away her blankets. As if her body is trying to catch up with what her mind is telling her. I am dangerous.

“No,” her voice trembles. “Please.”

I raise my hands in surrender and rise to my feet. “You are safe now. I cannot hurt you. I promise.”

“No, no, please,” she stammers.

“Ashley,” I breathe, taking a step I shouldn’t have. The bond yanks at me, demanding I protect her, but the cruel twist is that the threat she needs saving from stands before her. Adrenaline takes over and her sluggish movements speed up. When she tumbles out of bed I lunge forward to catch her, but she is already kicking herself backwards across the floor. Tears run down her cheeks, and she curls herself into a whimpering, shaking ball in the corner of the room. Once more, my mending heart breaks. Before I can say another word, the door behind me bursts open, and we both flinch as physicians spill into the room like a wave crashing through a barrier. Aiden strolls in behind them, back straight, hands in his pockets. His cold, lifeless eyes sweep over us both. That stare is so much like his mother’s that my chest tightens.

“I’ll take it from here, Captain,” he says.

It burns to leave her, but it is painfully clear my presence is only deepening the damage. I nod stiffly and back away from those who are fussing over her, whispering soothing words in the hope they can coax her back to bed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, the words barely audible over the pounding in our chests, but I know she can hear me. Aiden steps to the side, allowing me to pass, and the door closes with a click that sends shivers down my spine.

Chapter 28