Aether and ash, p.15
Aether & Ash, page 15
His grip slackened slightly, but the intrigue in his eyes only sharpened. “Hmmm…” He leaned in just a fraction, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Not really sure I believe that. A lady like you doesn’t exactly scream fearless warrior out for the Hunt.”
“I don’t need to,” I countered, my chin lifting defiantly.
“Maybe not,” he conceded, his voice dropping into a dangerously playful tone. “But that does leave me with a problem, doesn’t it?”
I arched a brow. “What problem?”
His fingers brushed against my wrist, deliberate, teasing. “Deciding what to do with you.”
I glared. “You could start by letting me go.”
He exhaled a laugh, low. “Oh, I could…” His fingers slid away, but instead of stepping back, he tilted his head, studying me with the kind of intensity. “Or,” he mused, his smirk returning, “I could just kill you.”
I stiffened, but before I could even process the threat, his eyes gleamed with something almost wicked.
“…Of course,” he added, his voice thick with innuendo, “I do know some very sweet ways to go about it.”
My face flamed. “You’re despicable.”
His smirk widened, entirely too pleased with himself. “And yet, you’re still standing here, looking at me.”
I had half a mind to slap him. Or kick him. Or maybe both.
Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to focus. Whoever he was, he was clearly enjoying this far too much. But I didn’t have time to waste exchanging sharp words with a cocky warrior who thought entirely too highly of himself.
I took a step back, eyes steady. “I don’t have time for whatever game you think you’re playing.”
“Oh, but I do,” he mused, folding his arms. “And lucky for you, I’m feeling generous. So, tell me, intriguing trespasser—why are you here?”
I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. “That’s none of your concern.”
His eyes flickered with something sharper. “Oh, but it is.” His voice dropped lower, the amusement giving way to something almost…assessing. “Because if you don’t belong here, then you’re a threat. And if you do belong here, well…” He trailed off. “That makes you very interesting.”
I exhaled sharply, leveling him with a glare. “I’m here for Damien.”
His eyes gleamed with fresh amusement. “Ooooh,” he mused, drawing out the syllables with entirely too much pleasure. “I didn’t know Damien had a baby sister.”
My face flamed furiously. “I am not his baby sister.”
He tilted his head, thoroughly enjoying himself. “No? Then elder sister?”
“I’m his reporter,” I declared, grasping at the first thing my exhausted brain could conjure.
His brow lifted. “His reporter?” He let the word roll off his tongue, as if tasting it. Then, with maddening nonchalance, he crossed his arms. “Now that is definitely interesting.”
I huffed. “Oh, for the love of—”
“What exactly is a reporter doing here, all alone?” he interrupted smoothly, studying me like one might study an unpredictable storm. “I suppose Damien doesn’t have a clue that a little reporter is lurking about somewhere in the middle of the Hunt?”
I opened my mouth, then promptly closed it. Damn it. I had used up my lie reserves.
My mind scrambled for something, anything, that might sound even remotely believable, but all I managed was a slow, pathetic, “He…doesn’t know yet, okay?”
His smirk turned downright insufferable. I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I’m here to meet him. Is he okay?”
He let out a low hum, considering. “As okay as a day of a failed Hunt can make him.”
I sighed again, deeper this time. Of course. It would be just my luck that I snuck into this Realm only to find Damien not in the best of moods.
“Can we go to him?” I asked, shifting my weight impatiently. “And who are you, anyway?”
He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning deep, exaggerated hurt. “I am deeply offended that you don’t recognize me by looks alone.”
I frowned, unimpressed. “Should I?”
His smirk curled lazily. “I am Izmer Castellane.” He let the name hang between us, as if it should mean something grand. “The infamous Royal in charge of capturing Tameables for Nyxaria.”
I blinked. Then blinked again. Ehm...okay, him.
He leaned forward slightly, eyes twinkling. “I thought surely you’d heard tales of my...abilities.”
I exhaled slowly, shaking my head. “No, and you are too cocky for your own good.”
He laughed—an easy, deep sound, and added. “Perhaps.” Then he turned on his heel, gesturing ahead. “Come along, little reporter. Let’s go find your not brother.”
I rolled my eyes, but followed, nonetheless.
Izmer let out an exasperated huff, his eyes narrowing as he studied my slow, deliberate pace. “I’ve seen moss move faster.” he said, his voice tinged with irritation.
I bit back a sigh, trying to hide the discomfort plaguing my steps. “My leg is bruised, I might have twisted it,” I muttered, “so bear with me.”
He shook his head, clearly unimpressed with my explanation. Before I could react, he moved in swiftly, his arm sweeping around my waist. In a single motion, he lifted me off my feet, cradling me sideways against his chest. My heart leapt in surprise, and I was too stunned to speak. The shock left me breathless for a heartbeat, but I quickly regained my composure, and with the fierce urgency of someone whose pride had just been wounded, I shouted, “What are you doing? Put me down!”
Izmer, the insolent fool, didn’t even acknowledge my protest. He carried on as if my protests were mere whispers on the wind, his steps as purposeful and steady as before. I immediately began to kick and struggle in his arms, the indignation swelling inside me. “Put me down, now!” I demanded, my fists pounding against his chest.
“I’m just doing both of us a favor,” he said calmly, unfazed by my resistance. “Cooperate, or I’ll toss you in that stream right there.”
The nerve of him! “I’ll walk,” I snapped back, my voice hardening with each word. “I’m not a child to be carried around.”
Izmer didn’t seem particularly bothered by my outburst. In fact, he barely spared me a glance. “What are you afraid of?” His voice, dripping with amusement. He glanced down at his own body, as if admiring himself. “Feels too hard to resist this, doesn’t it?”
I snorted in disbelief. “Yes, sure, dummy.” I muttered, my eyes rolling with exaggerated exasperation.
Despite my sharp words, I had to admit, Izmer was cocky and annoyingly good at it. Not that I would ever be interested. There was only one person on my mind, and it sure as hell wasn’t him.
But he instantly felt like an overconfident older brother I never had—pushing buttons just to see what would happen. He moved with surprising speed, his grip firm, as though my protests were nothing more than an inconvenience to him.
“Put her down or I’ll pull your heart out and make you watch it beat, Izmer.” A voice laced with venom. Damien.
He walked toward us from the direction of the cave, the darkness in his eyes sharpening as they locked onto Izmer and the arms holding me against him. I twisted, tried to pull away, but his grip held firm. Yet Izmer didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he simply didn’t care.
He raised a brow, his expression unchanged, as if he were merely amused by the situation. “I didn’t know helping an injured lady was a crime, Damien,” he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
I tried to signal to Izmer to hush, but before I could finish, my body was suddenly wrenched from his grasp. The scent of Damien, musky and male, washed over me as his strong hands enveloped me.
His free hand went straight to Izmer’s throat, squeezing. “NO ONE. TOUCHES. HER.” Damien’s voice was a low growl. Erm...this is spiraling out of control.
Izmer raised both hands in surrender, his lips curling into a grin despite the situation and his bulging eyes. “Oh, wow. Got it,” he said, stepping back just when Damien released him.
Damien’s gaze shifted to me, his expression softening ever so slightly. His concern was palpable, though his anger remained just beneath the surface. “Are you well?” he asked, his voice a mixture of worry and caution.
I swallowed hard, still trying to regain my bearings from the sudden upheaval. “Why can’t we talk alone?” I asked.
I had to get between them before things spiraled. Damien looked ready to snap, and if Izmer kept poking at him for amusement, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold him back.
Damien’s eyes flicked to me, taking me in as his fingers tightened around me. “You’re fine,” he muttered to himself.
I took a breath and steadied myself, resting a hand gently against his chest. “Yes, I am,” I said quietly. “Let’s go?”
He gave a single nod, still keeping me close as he turned. “Prepare for the next Hunt,” he called to Izmer over his shoulder. “We won’t be long.”
Izmer, for his part, didn’t seem all that offended. He waved us off with a smirk. “After you, then. I’ll let you and your reporter have your little moment.” But fortunately, he didn’t push it further.
As we walked away, I felt Damien’s hand tighten ever so slightly around me, the warmth of his touch comforting. I couldn’t help but wonder, in the midst of it all, if he would always feel the need to protect me this fiercely.
He led me into the caves, and I couldn’t help but take in the surroundings. The entrance was draped with weeping trees, their long, cascading branches heavy with dew, as though mourning the intrusion into their sanctuary. The air was thick with mystery, a heavy, moody atmosphere that hung in the space around us. The faint sound of wind rustling through the branches added to the eerie serenity of it all.
The interior of the cave, however, was an unexpected contrast. It was cozy, almost deceptively so, given the rawness of the world outside. The walls were lined with black stones, smooth yet rough in places, as if shaped by time itself. In the center, a platform of rock had been carefully arranged, with a mattress atop it. I had to admit; they had spared no expense in creating a comfortable space. Even in a Realm as wild as this, they had managed to create something from the palace, luxury that felt oddly out of place here, yet oddly welcome. Lamps lit in every corner, giving the interior a tinted glow.
He gently set me down on the mattress, the softness of the fabric a relief against the strain in my limbs. Damien stood over me, his tall form casting a long shadow against the rocky walls. His voice cut through the silence. “Do you even realize how dangerous it is to walk through those unstable regions of Etheris?”
“I wasn’t exactly out there trying to die, Damien,” I snapped, then immediately regretted the sharpness. But he was being a bit unreasonable here.
“I thought I asked you to stay safe in the palace chambers,” he said low, voice taut with restraint.
“Yes.” Maybe I should tell him I came to make sure he was safe. But judging by his reaction, it wouldn’t go well. Maybe I should try something subtler to ease the tension. “But don’t you think I belong—”
“You belong where I put you,” he snapped back. “And if I’d thought that place was here, in this damn Realm, I would have brought you myself.”
My throat tightened. That hurt—but I deserved it. I’d come charging into a Realm I barely understood, armed with nothing but overconfidence in a tether I couldn’t explain. Sure, I’d calmed a double-headed python here, but...probably not the best time to bring that up.
A silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. Then, with an edge creeping into his tone, he added, “Still doesn’t explain why you let Izmer cradle you like a newborn.”
I groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “Stars! He picked me up. I didn’t ask for it. The man has the subtlety of a thunderclap.”
Damien didn’t reply, so I lifted my head to look into his stony face. “And the only reason he initiated it,” I added tightly, “was because my leg is injured.”
His brow furrowed, the irritation melting into something more serious. He lowered himself to the ground beside me, one knee bent and the other drawn up slightly, his hands reaching for my leg. Gently, he lifted it and placed it carefully on top of his thighs as he inspected it. I couldn’t help but melt into his touch, though careful, he left trails of goosebumps both of us pretended to ignore.
The scene before me was a striking contrast to the rigid expectations of royal propriety. The Heir of Atlassian, seated on the floor with the leg of a commoner draped across his lap. The Elders would surely faint at such a sight. It was a breach of every tradition they held sacred.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice low, concerned.
I winced slightly. “It’s nothing,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “Just twisted it, it’ll go away in a day.”
Damien’s gaze lingered on the bruise for a moment, but then he shifted, his expression softening. “I will arrange a healer to attend you.” Then he looked into my eyes. “This injury is all the more reason you shouldn’t be here,” he said. “I knew you would go wandering the moment my back was turned. And judging by your record, you would find the most dangerous part of Etheris and plant yourself in the middle of it.”
Panic flared in my chest. If I didn’t steer this conversation away from that danger soon, he’d have me shipped back through the portal by morning. I couldn’t risk that, not even if he was safe now. I couldn’t return to the palace. Not with the Elders breathing down my neck. That one day was enough for me to know that.
I forced a steady breath and schooled my expression.
“Well,” I started, keeping my voice even, “the palace isn’t exactly known for its Mirabelle-friendly hospitality.” I gave him a pointed look, trying to make my words sound casual, but even I could hear the edge of defensiveness creeping in.
Damien didn’t respond, but it felt like he was listening.
“And then Nathan, “I trailed off just long enough to sound reluctant, lowering my voice, “He said maybe it’d be better for me to stay out of sight. Away from all the wrong eyes.”
Still no reaction. His silence made it harder to keep going, but I pressed forward.
“And then I saw Jasper lurking near my chambers,” I added, frowning. “That sealed it.” I was wrapping truth in just enough fiction to keep the seams from showing.
For a moment, I thought he might press, but then his jaw eased. The tension drained from his frame like a slow exhale. “I see,” he said finally. “Then you stay here.”
I blinked, startled by the ease with which I’d convinced him. But I didn’t let it show.
He rose, brushing dust from his palms. “Rest while we prepare for the Hunt.” A pause. Then, “The Thralls will be nearby, handling supplies and food. I’ll ask them to prepare something warm for you.”
I nodded. That knot of tension in my chest loosened.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
He looked at me for a long moment, then stepped closer. His knuckles brushed my cheek—light, almost absentminded, before his hand lifted mine slightly—he pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
“Sleep,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. By the time the door closed, I was already half gone.
Chapter 19
Mirabelle
Sleep had come easily, wrapping me in an embrace I hadn’t felt in what seemed like ages. But now, as my mind cleared from the haze of rest, one sensation eclipsed all others—hunger. Pushing myself up from the mattress, I noticed the ache in my legs had faded. The healer might have worked on them while I slept.
I stepped outside the cave, my bare feet meeting the cool, firm ground.
The plateau sprawled before me in staggered levels, each alive with movement. Thralls bustled about, their long, elegant ears twitching as they worked, some tending to fire pits, stirring large pots of simmering broth, while others chopped wood, their steady, rhythmic strikes echoing across the encampment. They moved with quiet efficiency, their green-veined hands swift in their tasks.
A cluster of Royals and Elders sat gathered near a central fire in another plateau, their expressions a mixture of severity and ease. There were more of them here than I had expected. When I’d heard about the Hunt, I’d assumed a small, select group would venture out—nothing more than a necessary task. I hadn’t anticipated something akin to a gathering, a near-festival in scale.
It felt less like a hunt and more like the forging of a miniature Clan.
A familiar voice called my name, and I turned to see Lyria and Rhevas lifting their hands in greeting. I smiled and returned the gesture, watching as they slipped easily back into conversation.
Should I go over? Would they see me as part of the Hunt...or just someone lingering where she didn’t belong? They would ask what I was doing here, and I shouldn’t be here in the first place. I exhaled. No, then.
Pushing aside the thoughts, I made my way toward the cooking area, where the scent of sizzling meat and fragrant herbs filled the air. Approaching one of the Thralls, I cleared my throat. “Do you have anything I can eat?”
A Thrall, willowy figure with high cheekbones and luminous eyes, nodded and handed me a simple wooden bowl. Inside was a mixture of vegetables I didn’t recognize—twisting, vine-like strands tinged in deep crimson, something that resembled gritte roots. Nestled within was a portion of sizzling meat, its edges crisped to perfection. I ate swiftly, barely registering the exquisite flavors as I emptied the bowl in minutes. Once finished, I took a deep gulp of water, letting its coolness wash away the remnants of my meal.
I lingered after I finished, drifting closer to where the Thralls worked, the crackle of firewood and hiss of searing meat weaving into the soft murmur of their conversation. I wasn’t sure why I stayed. But I sat on a low stone bench and simply watched.
It was strangely calming, observing the rhythm of their work. I hadn’t seen food being prepared this closely, not since before the Dormitories, where meals were dumped in wooden bowls and the taste didn’t matter so long as it was warm.
