The warm, solid length of him blankets me, and my flesh betrays me. Hot warmth pools over my skin. I hate the sensation. Crushing someone is an odd way to kill something, but maybe I have been too much trouble for him too soon.
Then his hand disappears, only to return with a crystal. He holds it against my temple. No sooner than he starts to sing, my vision fades.
Mikal. Mikal. Mikal.
Awareness blinks out slowly and then all at once.
1 Means “my love”, but it can also be a diminutive term for children from family or friends.
2 Damn it.
Chapter6
Amethyst
TEO
"Stop pacing," Liana demands.
I halt. The incessant humming that only I can hear is causing my heart to race and my thoughts to accompany my temperament with a dull roar. After taking my small mate to the queen’s suite and gently laying her on her bed, she suddenly woke up.
She had been covered in blood. So much blood. From her hair to her ankles. It is impossible to forget her scream because it felt like nails raking across my skin, tearing flesh with her agony. I still see her back bowing and her hands grasping for purchase against something, anything, that could pull her closer to her brother.
Leave, monster,she’d screamed, and Velen the singer put her back to sleep.
Though she rests, I feel her. Brilliant, multi-colored pain from her dreams feeds the flame of my rage. A bruise is blossoming over my jaw, yet my pride is much worse off.
My mate hates me. Despises the sight of me, as if the entire cavern did not sing only for us—easing us into a pair to make the transition from two to one a beautiful, soft period. As easy as breathing.
Perhaps humans do not have mates? What a cruel, familiar twist of fate that would be. All my life hoping for a queen, just to find that she cannot bear to look upon what is hers.
Happiness does not come easily for me. My father had used me as a bloody pawn in his war. I had long since decided that it was my burden alone to carry the weight of my bloodline’s sins. So what I have a mate? This has not changed that.
My fists clench. “Tell me what you see.”
Liana’s hands drop to her sides. “Your mouth is begging to meet my hammer,” she says.
“I came to you because you work with this magic. The human woman is volatile. I need to ensure her safety, and you are able to create scrying crystals,” I say, my voice low, dangerous. “I cannot be with her. Even in sleep, she fights against me with a strength I’ve never encountered.“
Liana's face softens. “Something is blocking her soul. It’s difficult to move around.”
My consciousness splits, half in Liana’s grotto and the other half hearing that gods-awful scream. I see her, bleeding in his room while she cleans her mess off the floor. I see the brand on her chest. See her held by Keksej in the hallway, as if he was determined to have her one last time before he killed her. It made me insane enough to risk a war.
The call of matehood is too strong. The woman who does not want me is everywhere: the whispered scent in the air, the hum of the stone embedded in my chest, and the blood rushing through my veins. There is not even any name to supply her with besides the awful nickname her old master left.
I look at the crystal in the center of the room, the mother of the stone in my chest. It does many things, from opening our ears to the stones’ song, extending our lives, and hastening the healing process when cut.
“What if I performed the ritual to give her a piece of the Fuegorra? Should that clear the block?” I've been here for over a quarter-hour, and I am left without any trace of a solution. My mate sits locked away in some room with the flame-haired woman watching over her. It wouldn’t be hard to get a singer to put them both to sleep, and make quick work of the procedure.
The wise woman stops, the crystal piercings on her nose flaring as she breaks from her work once again. “Ma’Teo, son of Teo’Litkh, you will leave that poor woman alone unless you intend for her to hate you. If you approach her with the same raw force you brought to that fight with the giants, we will be going to war in vain.”
“War has not been declared. They attacked first.” Even still, the thought sobers me, and I slink back. The voice of my father enters my mind.
“One day, you will find yourself understanding my choices. And you will see what I have seen all along—you are too weak to be king.“
Looking down at my ungloved hands, I see the ghost of blood. The war returns to me in flashes of brutal pain and ugly deception. I see blood on the dirt, the ghostly white marble walls, my shoes, and my sword.
The breath rushes in and out of my mouth, and my chest pumps to keep up. A hum vibrates, as if trying to soothe me, and the clock measuring time in Enduvida strikes three. My eyelids droop. It’s late. We have already climbed to the small hours of the night.