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Chapter6
Rook
The laughter of the war council tore me from my thoughts. I looked around the room, at the self-aggrandising shoulder claps and indulgent smiles of the Seraph generals, at Theron’s own smug grin, and wondered what joke I had missed.
Theron’s eyes landed on me, and he grinned. “What do you have to say about it, Rook?”
I cleared my throat, leaning forward on the table. “I beg your pardon, Sire, what were you saying?”
The room broke into guffaws again.
Theron lifted an eyebrow. “Where are you, my friend? You seem eons away at the moment.”
“I am sorry, Sire, the heat, it’s, uh, making it hard to sleep.”
“The heat.” He scoffed. “Yes, theheat.” More guffaws around me. “I would have trouble sleeping too if I had that Fae Princess pinned under me every day.”
“What?” I snapped too quickly, and the council was stunned into silence.Shit. Of course Theron didn’t know about my dreams, that’s not what he meant. I was becoming paranoid. Gods, I needed to calm down. “I’m so sorry, Sire, I’m somewhat agitated.”
Theron snapped his fingers, his eyes staying on me. “Wine for my friend.”
A servant rushed forward with a goblet of wine, placing it in front of me with a curt nod. I gulped it down, hating the dry, bitter taste of the pig swill Velesians called wine, but hoping the alcohol would calm my nerves enough that I could function again.
Satisfied that I was doing as I was told, Theron spread his wings, leaning back in the oversized oak chair at the head of the long table, and drummed his fingers on its surface. “What I was saying was, the Princess is rather pleasing on the eyes.”
“Even deformed as she is.” One of the council members leaned towards his neighbor and muttered the words furtively, but loud enough for us to hear.
“Watch your mouth.” Theron and I regarded each other with surprise as soon as the words left our mouths. He laughed jovially after a moment.
“Become protective of her, have we?” His smile dissolved as his gaze settled back on the offending council member. “Speak of the Princess like that again and I will have you deposed and claim your lands, do you understand?”
The council members tittered nervously, anxious to show their solidarity with the King, and I took another hefty gulp of wine.Fucking Fae. Now I was here defending her, to the council. She had sounded so sincere when she had said she couldn’t cast any magic. And I had no reason to doubt her - I knew the Fae magic was old and weak. They’d lost their wings centuries ago. Their numbers had dwindled until their kind was reduced to nothing but a tiny kingdom in Peyrus. She shouldn’t have been able to cast a spell on me.
And yet…
I ran a hand over my chest, where that warmth remained, clutching my heart in a fist of glowering embers. When she’d touched me there, her hand splayed on my skin, it had been like lightning.
The most beautiful lightning I’d ever felt. Warm and sweet, almost soothing in its suddenness.
I took down another gulp of wine, the chatter of the council members once again fading as my thoughts engulfed me.
I’d accepted my fate long ago. I’d been Theron’s thug, his assassin, his loyal servant for all these years, without question. There was no point in questioning. I was a slave. Nothing more.
And now, the creeping feeling of renewal had washed over me, and I could feel myself becoming addicted to it. Elara’s touch had been like the first cool morning after a summer of unbearable heat. The first sip of water after a day spent under the punishing sun. I could still feel the warmth of her body, unsure now whether it was the specter of my dreams haunting me into my waking hours, or whether it was the memory of her against me as she fought to stay alive in that training arena.
And of course, she was right.
I didn’t want to kill her. The final swing of my ax towards her throat had been the last stumbling step into an abyss I’d never navigated before. Seeing the terror in her eyes had caused me physical pain. And then a little voice crept into my mind, repeating that singular thought over and over until my skull had throbbed -I never want her to be afraid of me again.
I chewed my lip, staring at the dull surface of the table before me, tracing the wood grain with my eyes. Like a map that led nowhere. Like the very one I was trying to traverse now. It wasn’t possible for me to feel anything for her. I didn’t want it to be.
But even as the council laughed heartily around me, even as my head began to swim as I held up my goblet for a second glass of wine, I knew it - I was in deep shit. The second I had laid eyes on her in that throne room, watching me drag the serpent’s head towards her, when I’d seen those scars on her face that told me she was a warrior who would never run from a fight - I’d already known then I was done for.
And it wasn’t just that she was beautiful. She was, of course. Delicate, regal, tall and lithe, soft golden hair that I wanted to bury my face in. She smelled wonderful, I was sure of it. Her face had felt like silk under my thumb the day I’d chased away that stray tear. Her beauty was one thing - but the overwhelming possessiveness I felt for her was another.
Oh fucking Gods, Rook. What have you done?
I pushed myself away from the table with a groan, unable to stand the sheer volume of the banter and laughter surrounding me. War council meetings - they were a joke. They always descended into men speaking dirty fantasies about the maids and nothing more. I walked out onto the balcony, looking out over the gardens, bathed in warm golden light as the sun crept slowly to rest behind the mountains.
