Page 29 of Where We Belong

“What I mean to say is,” my collar is suffocating me, so I try to loosen it. “I am fulfilled with what I have currently. I do not need anyone new in my life.”

Eira opens her mouth to respond, but I keep going, desperate to steer us toward solid ground. Towards the truth that, everyone leaves eventually. I do not understand why I should volunteer myself for the grief before it arrives. Why would anyone willingly invite such suffering? “Besides, she shall more than likely die in this ritual. So, why get attached?” My reason for breathing stares at me, her jaw slack. Even Cook hesitates, studying me with his eyebrows raised before resuming his slicing. Panic threatens to set in when I catch their glances towards one another.

“When did you become so cruel?” Eira’s disappointment is evident. “Because this side of you is very unattractive.”

“Well, is it not a good thing I am not attempting to attract anyone?” I reply, forcing a small smile, hoping that sticking with honesty might repair whatever misstep I have made. I cock my head to the side as Eira seems to mirror my smile, then, with a small shake of her head, she turns her attention to something behind me.

“Nyk!”

Oh, for the sake of all that is good. Cook shoots me a knowing look through the hanging herbs, shaking his head in a silent, I told you so. I scowl at him briefly, but then quickly remove the expression from my face. Perhaps a joke?

“Lieutenant Nykholas, come to break into some more living quarters already?”

“Maybe later, my Prince.” He stares into Eira’s eyes whilst bowing to me, barely.

“Cook… Eira,” he practically purrs her name. Dragging it out in a way that makes my temples ache and my jaw flex. Eira, however, bites her lip, smiling like a child seeing their favourite sweet. She looked at me like that once, that same light in her eyes. He extends a large, scarred hand to tuck a wisp of dark hair behind her ear. The audacity to touch that which belongs to me is almost blinding.

“Looks like I didn’t pull all of your hair out last night after all.”

My stomach lurches. Breath is caught in my throat. Food threatens to crawl out of my stomach. I cannot be misunderstanding the innuendo, this is treason, surely? I cut a sharp glance at Cook. Did he know of this? But his wide eyes tell me even he is in the dark. Eira’s giggle drags my eyes back. A hand braced on his bicep, she tiptoes, leaning into him before whispering something into his ear. He stoops, strong hands clasped firmly behind his back, his face brushing dangerously close to hers as he mutters something in response. The blood in my veins heats as if a fire is lit beneath me. I am aware of their flirting, that Nykholas enjoys taunting me. And of course, he would be taken with her; she is extraordinary. But it is reciprocated? Physically. I clench my fists under the table, focusing on the pain of my nails biting into my palms instead of the growing pressure in my heart. Nykholas’s smile turns sultry, his eyes lingering on her before he finally says what he came here to say.

“The King has arrived and requests your presence in the throne room.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” The words taste bitter and take everything I have. I offer him a hollow smile, and he nods, countering me with a playful one before exiting the kitchen. Eira hesitates, glancing back at me. She looks almost apologetic, or perhaps I imagine it because she trails after Nykholas without another word. Cook does not even bother looking from the pot he stirs, “I can’t even feel sorry for you, Aid. You did it to yourself.”

He is right. For the most part.

Chapter 30

Ashley

Still, I am blessed above and beyond,

You breathed her into my life.

Anka’s warm touch soothes me a little while she does a few assessments. “Lieutenants Leander and Lili will escort you to your uncle.” She nods to two unmissable, almost familiar figures in the doorway. The guy’s chestnut hair is tied into two long braids. Scars cut across his face like a grid, and his light brown eyes are so inviting it throws me off. The female beside him is another level of gorgeous, and the tattoo across her neck is to die for. She wears a bronze corseted top with colourful fabric gathered around her waist. Despite Anka’s best attempt at a comforting smile, my stomach flutters. My uncle. Even with everything I’ve seen, doubt still chips away at me. Maybe the strange power that flows from my fingertips is just some bizarre medical condition, and the stories my dad told me are just that. I’ll be back in my shitty little flat in no time, high as a kite and riding Raph’s face. Leander gestures beyond the door with a mangled hand, missing half a middle finger. “Princess, right this way.”

We can’t make this a habit. “Just Ashley,”

They lead the way, but Anka gently puts a hand in front of me. “Do you want me to come with you?” She whispers. “They won’t let me into the throne room, but I can walk you to the door.”

“Yes, please.” I need to cling to any comfort I can.

We tread through the pale corridors into the evening air. The dark pathway sparkles slightly, like it has golden veins. Towering trees with thick, braided trunks and leaves of darkened silver and deep violet line the walkways. And the sky, it’s a beautiful, endless, deep blue. Glowing fish skitter across it like colourful stars.

The closer we get to the palace, the more I feel as if I’m being pulled by something. And with every step, the pounding in my head slows a little. As if the magic in the air is feeding a part of me I didn’t even know was starving. Something deep inside me stirs so violently it almost aches, like it’s spent my entire life searching for this place. Like a word sitting on the tip of my tongue that I’ve finally remembered. A strange monster carved into giant black gates catches my eye before soldiers pull them open for us. As soon as I put one foot over the threshold, static buzzes in my heart.

“She’s fine,” Anka says, though Leander’s grip on his sword doesn’t loosen. She gently pulls my chin, looking into my eyes as the tingle shoots down my arm and dissolves somewhere around my wrist. “You’re fine. It’s just your reaction to the palace wards.”

I’m about to ask what the hell wards are, but my vision blurs and then clears sharply. The colours around me grow too bright, like someone’s turned the saturation up. Something surges down my back, and I swear I can smell smoke. Anka’s eyes are fixed on something just behind me. She arches a brow at Leander, who stares back, stony-faced.

“We need to talk,” she says, glaring at him. When we reach another set of doors, soldiers bow, and I’m led into the middle of the room. There’s a throne on a little stage and standing in front of it are two males I kind of recognise. One with an icy, white ponytail bows with a grin that would be infectious if I wasn’t shitting myself.

“Nyk.”

I catch his rough hand in a loose grip, giving him the half-smile every Brit is born knowing.

“And this is Tobian,” he says, tipping his chin toward the slim, platinum blonde pretty boy beside him. He can’t be older than nineteen. The giant doors groan, and everyone turns to the person coming through. His long, greying locs fall to his knees, scattered with clinking seashells. Everyone in the room bows, but his teary eyes pay them no attention. They’re locked on mine and mine on his. My jaw drops.