I’m wokenby blinding panic; heart racing in my chest, breath trapped, muscles seized until finally I take a casting breath the sound of it loud in the quiet confines of the tent and awareness comes flooding to me in a rash it's not my panic but Rooke’s.
I’m reaching for her before I realize what's happening, my magic thrown out of my chest prepared to tear apart whatever caused this nightmare but it comes up short at the edge of her her second barrier and only finds the goblin soldiers within. The first barrier holds true, keeping the sounds of her terror from the rest of the camp, but I add my own alongside it to be sure it doesn’t falter.
My hands are too rough as I grasp her arms but she doesn’t react, doesn’t rouse at all, the sobs wrenching from her as though from the deepest depths of her soul. My hands shake but the fear isn't my own, flooding between us until both our hearts race at the same frantic speed. She warned me of this, hid it away as much as she could, but it only turns my stomach further to think of her waking alone in this state, tormented by horrors that never leave her.
Dragging her back into my arms, they band tightly around her to press her face into my chest while my fingers dig into the dark tumble of her hair. I feel the moment she wakes up, the jerk of her whole body and her arms claw instinctively at me as they always do before she realizes the terror is a long gone foe, that she’s safe here with me no matter how many hunt us.
The gasping fear gives way to a tremble as she tries to contain her sobs but even when she tries to move away from me I only tighten my grip, tucking my face into her neck with fingersstroking through her hair. My other hand presses against the mottled line of scarring on her back as though holding a fresh wound. With the ferocity of her sobs, my fingers press deeper, willing it not to split open and spill out her organs just as her emotions flood our mind connection and lay in great pools around us. With deep, steady breaths I force my heartbeat to slow, the beat of it underneath her ear unfaltering, and soon her own heartbeat soothes to match it. Steady and slow, I send calm and safety through the mind connection to her until the sobs subside and all that's left of her terror is the wet stain of her cheeks and my shirt.
She slowly builds the wall back up between us until I'm not overrun by her emotions and only have my own to grapple with, the worst of which is my blood-lust for any who’ve harmed her. While I wait for the last of the tremors to subside, I distract myself by planning how I'm going to convince Prince Gideon to split the remaining goblin soldiers once more; the majority to escort Rooke back to Yregar safely, while the others return to Yrell with me to hunt those ashes-cursed fae down. The apprehensive way the goblin prince’s spoke about Bloodwitches doesn’t give me pause; no matter what it takes me, I’ll kill every last one of them.
“We’re needed in Yregar,” Rooke murmurs to me, her fingers softly stroking my chest.
The only acknowledgment I can give her is a rumbling sort of grunt, my jaw too tight to consider words. She handles it far better than any female I've ever interacted with, far better than I deserve. Her fingers moving to rub against my chest so close to where her face is pressed. The stroke of them is soothing, coaxing the fury to lower down to a simmer until a new problem arises as I crave that stroking over every inch of me. Pressed against me how she is, there’s no hiding the fact either, not that I want to.
My uncle’s taunt sounds in my head again, one of far too many males talking about her like a piece of meat that I've endured in the last few days. My hands clutch her tighter again, pulling her further into me but instead of complaining at my boorish behavior, she hums under her breath as her fingers move to stroke my neck in those same soothing motions. My eyes slip shut, desperate for more. Nothing ever feels like enough with this mate of mine.
Eventually she sighs, my grip easing up just enough to allow her to sit up and the dark cascade of her hair falling between us has my fingers itching to be buried in it.
“There’s a long ride home ahead of us but the sooner we get it over with, the sooner you’ll be a real bed again. I’m sure Your Highness has missed your own soft mattress, being reunited with it might ease some of this snarling attitude.”
Chuckling at her teasing, I’m rewarded with a soft smile and her fingers stroking absently at my chest as though she’s driven to touch me. The hot, slick feel of her sliding over my cock flashes into my mind and I can't help but plunge my hand into her hair, cupping the back of her head to pull her to me. She sighs as I surge up to swallow it and she opens her mouth without hesitation, kissing me with all the hunger she had last night. Tongue and teeth and desperation, she melts into me perfectly, a storm brewing under our skin that craves release.
Breaking away, the gasp she lets out is the sweetest sound, like air isn’t worth the loss of my lips on hers and instantly I want to give it to her; again, more, everything she could ever desire from me. Her needs are mine to crave, covet, fulfill and revel in.
When I’m sure my voice will be anything but a lust-soaked snarl, I press my forehead to hers, my nose running alongside hers and crowing at the hitch in her breath. “We’ll return home toourbed, inourchambers, inourcastle toourhousehold that awaits us.”
The dazed look on her face gives way to another knowing smile that flirts at the edges of her lips and she murmurs under her breath, “Who would’ve thought you could share so well, Prince Soren? I wonder what sparked such a turn of opinions.”
She shifts as if she's going to move away but my arms stay locked around her, forcing her to stay pressed against my chest for a little longer, the air thickening around us as she senses the shift in my mood to more serious topics. Her hesitance last night still itches at me and I want no questions to plague her of what our life together will entail.
“The escort you called for aid, your family… I don't want to offer them a place in our household.”
Her eyes shutter a little and she swallows, nodding a fraction as far as the tight grip in her hair will let her. She accepts my words as easily as she’s accepted every order I’ve given her while in command, as though it isn’t a heartbreaking revelation. It won’t be, and I don’t let the pain linger.
I push up to press my lips against hers again, far more chaste than the last we shared, then pull back to murmur, “A place in our household would place them below the high fae— that’s unacceptable for those who saved your life. I’ll make them members of your family that you’ll bring to Court with you instead. When my uncle is dealt with, and all those who backed him are gone, I’ll give them seats on the Court as well. There are more than five families that will be wiped out in entirety, the choice is easy.”
She stares at me, her heart thumping in her chest so violently I can feel it against my own. “The high fae aren’t going to accept witches in the Court, let alone holding seats.”
I drop the grip on the back of her head to take her chin instead, tilting her head to be sure she sees my determination and the absolute truth of my words. “I don’t give a fuck what the Unseelie Court accept; they’ll obey my command or they’ll die.We’re in this mess because of their obsession with themselves, their arrogance, and their spite. That ends now. They’ll return to the traditions of old and the new laws that protectallfae folk, or they die.”
She stares at me, unblinking as though moving will break a spell she’s trapped in, but the longer I hold her gaze the deeper my convictions sink into her. Swallowing roughly, she ducks her head as she blinks rapidly, and I cup her cheek as I kiss the crown of her head.
“The Unseelie Court will submit to their king and queen. The way things have been done for centuries has almost cost us this kingdom; I’ll end it once and for all. Any who question your escort, question you and only those loyal to us both will survive the coming months. I’m not waiting for Khal Balzog’s death; I intend on setting the precedence of what questioning you, or I, will result in from the moment we return to Yregar.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rooke
The silence of the soldiers as we walk is unsettling at first, no murmurings or camaraderie, and I don't realize how closely the Briarfrost princes are watching me until Gage sends me a lopsided grin. “It's respect, Rooke. They understand the importance of seeing the Ravenswyrd Mother and the heir to the Celestial throne back to Yregar safely and to talk amongst themselves could cast our entire territories in a bad light, an unforgivable infraction.”
Soren doesn't react to his words but he’s treated each of the soldiers respectfully, if a little standoffish, and I have to remind myself that his own upbringing only discussed King Galen's forces as a threat.
We ride through the day and despite Soren's disapproving growls in my direction, I refuse Prince Gideon’s offers to make camp again at nightfall. The raving witches circling the tree line and my concerns for Thea’s fragile state have me desperate to return home.
Riding straight through the night, the first signs of dawn peek through the thinning trees as we reach the edge of the Brindlewyrd forest. The song of the trees turns mournful to see us go. When the trees reassure us all that the Betrayer’s are either dead or gone, Soren sends his gratitudes deep into the earth alongside mine and sealing it with his oaths to return soon. Gideon watches these actions, carefully taking note of the reverence in Soren's tone and the easy way he takes my instruction, but when I meet his eyes he only gives me a firm nod and continues onwards.
There’s dead raving witches along the perimeter and signs of their numbers in the churned ice, but no signs of their armies as we make our path to Yregar. It's a peculiar type of sorrow to walk back through the kingdom escorted by the goblin princes and their soldiers. With Soren watching my every move, the branding possession in his eyes that leaves no questions of his intention, I’m forced to mask my sorrow but that’s an easy task thanks to the despair that surrounds us, horror at every turn.
