Winters awakening, p.8
Winter's Awakening, page 8
Her gaze flicked back to the balcony, and she balked. “You have no railings.”
“What?”
She clutched the doorframe. “The balcony. It’s windy. What if I’m swept off?”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“You should seriously consider railings.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” He unwrapped her icy fingers from the jamb. “Don’t let go of my hand. I’ll keep you warm this way.”
Right, the heat-sharing thing. The instant he drew her close and put his arms around her, she got distracted by his hard body with barely an inch separating them. A sudden weightlessness overtook her, and she gasped, feeling as if her molecules were scattering. Brenna threw her arms around him. Oh, God, she shut her eyes, praying she would be in one piece wherever they landed.
Moments later, they reformed, and she was back in her corporeal body. A blast of icy air stung her cheeks. Wow, that was soooo weird, like Star Trek transporter level weird.
Brenna gingerly opened her eyes, and shrieked, finding herself hovering high above the ground. “No-no-no!” In terror, she buried her face in his chest, her voice muffled in his shirt. “We’re gonna fall. Take me down. Please take me down—”
“I won’t let you fall.” He kept one arm anchored around her, but his other palm gently rubbed her back. “Look down, Brenna,” he ordered, his voice quiet, a warm whisper against her ear. “Please.”
The man never said please before. Inhaling a trembling breath, she warily detached her face from his chest, but her fingers fisted the back of his shirt. She peered, not sure what she was looking at. All around her were miles and miles of black scarring in a world where everything was white. “What is that?”
Without a word, he coasted them downward and steadied her on the mushy, ash-covered grounded, revealing a clearer picture of the utter devastation.
“This looks like the aftermath of a forest fire,” she whispered. Her gaze rushed back to him. “But how? This is an ice-bound domain.”
“Through a spelled blaze.”
“What?”
“This is—was a part of the sacred Rean Forest, a forest we as Darkreans need to equate. We have a symbiotic relationship with the sentient trees. Without them, we will slowly weaken and be easier for our enemies to destroy until there is no one left.”
Her eyes widened in horror. But the bleakness in his expression had her chest tightening. “Who would do such a heinous thing?”
“Those that would see us brought to our knees. It will never happen.” His harsh tone had the hairs on her arms lifting.
“You mean the Empyreans?”
“For most things, yes, but even they wouldn’t cause this sacrilege. The rebels. They want to rule Empyrea.”
Every world, it seemed, had their share of monsters.
Sacred. It meant holy. Divine.
She’d always had an affinity to plants, but to see this? Her stomach hurting at such malevolence, Brenna crouched and gently stroked a blackened stump with her free hand. A faint tremor coasted through her fingers, a sense of utter despair wrapping around her as if the trees cried out for help. It speared her in the heart.
“Will they regrow?” she whispered, glancing at him.
A tic worked his jaw. “We must find a way to remove the killing spell first before it is too late. Adara’s working on it. Come.” His expression grim, Sebris drew her up. He cast a quick look around them. “Night falls. We must get back to the fortress before the temperature drops.”
After Sebris left her, Brenna paced the length of her room, too tense to relax after seeing the desecration of those holy trees. She nurtured her plants and flowers, handled them tenderly, and this left a crater-sized hole in her.
A faint whine reached her on the wind. She ignored it and dropped onto the chaise lounge near the fireplace, guilt eating at her that she’d so angrily brushed off Sebris’ original request for help. She swallowed hard, rubbing her brow—
Why do you fight it so?
At the voice in her head, Brenna jerked and fell off the lounger, hitting the floor hard. The spectral woman from the other day stood near the fireplace, appearing more like the flames themselves, she was so transparent.
“God, would you stop that?” she groaned, pain jarring her spine, her heart pounding in her throat. “If I don’t die of freezing in this world, I surely will of a heart attack.”
Wincing, Brenna struggled to her feet and rubbed her sore backside. Putting a safe distance between her and the ghost, she leaned against the side window overlooking the lit courtyard where Hauck was ending a training session with a group of warriors.
Our realm needs help. The woman’s image trembled as if she couldn’t hold on to the form, and as she faded away, her voice coasted in the warm room. It’s all we ask.
Great, now on top of all the other craziness going on, she had a ghost haunting her, too.
But she’d finally seen what she needed to see and, deep within her, Brenna understood, too, she couldn’t let something so divine suffer. Not if she could do something about it. Because, down there at the graveyard of the burnt forest, the heart-wrenching pull of hopelessness from those amazing trees—trees that seemed to live a life beyond anything she had ever dared imagine—had hurt her heart and soul so damn bad.
Blinking her burning eyes, she pressed her brow to the windowpane.
For the first time since Sebris had told her that she was the chosen one, she hoped it was true. She wanted to be able to do something to change this terrible, painful fate of their world. To help the forest live on.
She expelled a shaky breath. Maybe Sebris knew how to find their artifact, because she didn’t have the faintest clue what to do.
The warriors in the courtyard staggered off. Sebris strode into the yard seconds later.
Brenna straightened, her stupid heart picking up speed, then she frowned. Something about his rigid bearing made her think of a keg of dynamite about to go off.
What had happened to him after he’d left her?
Chapter 7
Sebris pinched the bridge of his nose and jogged downstairs to the ground floor. Stars, but Brenna had a way of sparking his temper with that mouth of hers. Not only did she drive him to the edge of distraction with this dangerous attraction, she obviously didn’t possess any survival instincts, either.
He’d been so damn frustrated at her refusal to accept their world’s magic was fading, he’d hauled her off to see the destroyed Rean trees. Not that he could blame her for her view. She’d probably lived a sheltered life on a world that didn’t require such great sacrifices as the Darkreans had to make to survive.
He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, his fingers encountering the missive the cleric had delivered to him from the Ortueri during dinner.
Did they think to order him?
The burn in his gut started, and with no way to release the tension inside him, he headed for the front doors, needing to get out of the fortress for a while. But the sensation of Brenna’s warm body against his when he’d held her lingered, and his entire body went into a slow burn again, stirring a dark need he could no longer deny for the fragile mortal.
She might hate his world, but it was steeped deep in his blood—in his very existence. He’d sensed her compassion over the destroyed Rean Forest, but to her it probably would be like many of their Earth’s wildfires: a moment of concern, and forgotten soon after. Hell, he hoped seeing the devastation made a difference to her. The Rean’s fading magic still lingered in the place. Even now, its desolation tugged at his soul as if he was the only one who could aid them. He hoped to the heavens she felt it, too.
As he neared the front door, he found Xever leaning against the doorjamb, watching the flurries whip about in the darkness. He glanced over his shoulder. “A storm comes.”
Indeed. “The council wants a meeting with the foretold one. I cannot allow that just yet.”
“Why?” Xever straightened from the jamb. “Don’t you think it will benefit them to see her? It’s likely what the Ortueri wishes.”
Sebris cut him a brief look. “She isn’t ready yet. Her wariness at dinner shows this. If she refuses to help us, there are some who’d think nothing of locking her in a dungeon to get what they want.” His teeth ground at the thought of this happening to her. “She’s scared. It’s what makes her refuse to aid us.”
He strode out into gusting winds strong enough to sway him off his feet, the icy air doing little to calm him. Xever joined him. “I thought she agreed back on Earth?”
“She has. But for some nonsensical reason, she believes she has no magic because she possesses no psychic abilities.”
“Yes, she mentioned that. Shouldn’t she have some kind of psychic power, considering she possesses blood magic?”
Sebris shrugged, lowering his head against the stinging winds and slashing ice, glad he’d gotten Brenna back to the fortress before the squall hit. “I tasted her blood; the magic is in her.”
“Maybe I should check, too—”
“No!” At his snap, Xever shot him a startled look. Sebris hardened his tone. “She has it. I can wait for her to accept it, too. There are a few things here I need to deal with first before we can leave for Earth. Either way, I will get her agreement. Saving Dregarus has always been my priority. Then I can finally give Shera the life she deserves.”
After several long seconds, Xever said, “It has been far too long for her.”
Indeed. But Sebris couldn’t let regret weigh him down now because of his past deeds.
In silence, they trudged through the squalling winds and piling snow, and as they bypassed the drifts, Xever asked, “Did Kaede find out anything new with the missing royals?”
At the mention of his earlier meeting with another of his trusted five, Sebris frowned. “Not much. It seems the queen went riding and hadn’t returned. The king took off to search for her, and he didn’t return either.”
“Think it could be the rebels behind this?”
“Doubtful. They’d crow their success from the damn mountaintops if it were true.”
Xev nodded. Then, “You should meet with the Ortueri, Seb. After that little situation in the dining hall, there’s no telling what Talitha will report to Thaemis.”
He slid his hands into his pants pockets, his fingers crushing the missive. “Why would she say anything to her sire?”
“Because she has hopes to become your mate.”
Sebris clamped down on his molars in irritation. There were females who persisted in coming after him when they knew he had no plans to take a mate. It was time to put that fallacy to rest.
He glanced at his second, Xev’s features barely discernible through the falling snow. He’d been so sure Talitha and Xever were an item, and the reason she’d occasionally hang around. “You and her over?”
“Never was a ‘me and she.’” Xever lowered his head, white flakes coating his hair and hunched shoulders. “She needed help with something and asked me.”
Apparently, he was wrong.
Sebris glanced up to the twin moons still visible between the heavy, dark clouds as the flurries swirled faster. “Let me get this council meeting over with.”
He flashed back to the fortress, taking the stairs leading deep beneath the foundation of the stronghold. Secret passages riddled this level of his castle, ones only a select few knew about, and he used his private accessway to head to the subterranean city far below the mountains.
At the dead-end passageway, he pressed his palm to the rough granite wall. The wards shimmered through him, and the rock face seamlessly slid open. He stepped out onto the dimly lit back streets of the underground city of Dregarus.
Sebris stood there for a second, the hum of the evening activities drifting over him. He upped his body temperature, to dry his damp clothes. The smells of foods, herbs, incense, and chilled bedrock merged to form the familiar scent of his world. The crystal orbs embedded in the high ceiling that could light up like daylight had dimmed a little, giving the illusion of evening.
Several denizens strode past. A few nodded at him, while others eyed him warily. The lack of carefree laughter and childish voices remained an empty echo; the melancholic air abrading him like gravel. He wanted to show Brenna what it was they fought for, so she wouldn’t fight him every step of the way. But how the hell could he bring her here? People would talk in their excitement and voices carried. If the rebels caught wind of Brenna, they’d think nothing of coming after her or killing her.
He couldn’t risk it.
Mouth tight, Sebris flashed to the High Council’s chambers and reformed at the marble entrance with its dome-shaped metal door. His heightened hearing easily picked up the low voices within.
“Careful, Leidis, you know nothing of what you speak,” Arche’s calm voice coasted to him.
“You will soon see I am right,” the male retorted. “It’s all over the place, what happened right there in the fort—”
“That is enough. We will talk later.”
A door slammed, thundering boot steps receded as Sebris strode into the chamber.
Arche, head of the Ortueri, rubbed his brow wearily. He looked up from the papers piled on his desk, and a smile lightened the older male’s tired face, forming fine lines near the corner of his fatigued, steel-gray eyes.
“Sebrasius.” Arche glided to his feet, the council member’s deep maroon robes concealing his lean frame. “My pardon for the debacle just now. My son is headstrong. But it is good to see you. I thought it best to keep this meeting informal.”
Sebris inclined his head. He preferred dealing with Arche than the rest of the Ortueri. The male had a brain that went beyond thinking of his own importance. And being one of the first created by Urias, he’d seen everything from the start of the new Empyrea to its current decline.
“I’m glad you were successful.” Arche smoothed his long, woven brown hair.
Successful in abducting Brenna? Usually, Sebris didn’t feel pangs of guilt for his actions when it came to saving his world, but the image of her fierce blue eyes had him questioning himself. No female argued with him at every turn the way she did, and each time she did, he so badly wanted to taste the fire concealed beneath her fragile exterior.
Restless, he prowled across to the window overlooking the quiet street, trying not to think about her. Beyond the road, the heated underground River Lumina ran through the mountains like a bright teal ribbon, casting an iridescent light along the way. It splashed color on the short, gray-green trees growing along the riverbed. Without sunlight, the stumpy shrubs didn’t grow beyond a few feet in height, but at least they flourished.
The door opened. On the windowpane, Sebris watched the reflection of the second council member glide inside in a swirl of blood-red robes which flowed over him like plasma, his unbound, long chestnut hair adding to the macabre impression.
“Where is the foretold one? What measures have been taken in retrieving the Stone?”
Sebris faced the tall, bony male. Thaemis had a good head for politics and the upkeep of the city. Beyond that, he annoyed Sebris.
“She’s been injured. It will take time for her to heal,” he reiterated. “She is human.”
“Regardless…” Thaemis’ amber eyes glinted as he crossed to the center of the semi-circular room. “That is not what my Talitha tells me. The mortal was responsible for a disruption in the dining hall. If she’s well enough to be the cause of such conduct, then you should have brought her here.”
Sebris nailed Thaemis with an icy stare, finding it hard to keep his annoyance under wraps. “The chosen is under my protection. She must heal first before we embark on this quest.”
Thaemis waved a hand in dismissal. “You will transfer the foretold one to my abode as it should be. She will be under my guard until you leave.”
“Not happening.” Sebris slipped his hands into his pants pockets before he wrapped them around Thaemis’ scrawny neck.
“And since the Stone will be located soon,” the fosser continued as if Sebris hadn’t spoken, “the mating between you and—”
“Enough,” Sebris snapped. “I will not take a mate. You knew this when you first took the council seat.”
“But—”
“Thaemis.” Arche held up a hand with an imperceptible shake of his head. Sebris didn’t care about the unspoken message passing between them. Whatever they planned, they had to get his agreement first.
He stared outside again. Arche joined him at the window. “This is all beautiful, no? The world we’ve been forced to create beneath these mountains.”
Sebris remained silent.
Exhaling roughly, Arche said, “With the Stone missing, morale grows lower. No babes have been born in millennia. My lord, you are the true ruler of Dregarus. We are merely its caretakers. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision?” When Sebris didn’t respond, he continued, “You know you can rule, oversee the militia if you want, and take a mate?”
He was no cursed ruler. The Ortueri’s didn’t know the entire truth of what drove him. Or why they were bound to this ice dominion. Guilt plagued him, but he thrust it aside. His stone-cold resolve remained to find the artifact and put right all that had been taken from them.
It was why he’d left the Ortueri to govern. Now they wanted him to show his people hope through action and take a mate. “No.”
“I understand more than you think, Sebrasius,” Arche said. “But these are difficult times. Optimism dwindles with each passing year. Our people need something to hold on to, need to see you accept your true calling.”
“At this point, it’s a futile endeavor. With the Stone missing, no union can be blessed with its mystical power. No offspring can be sired.”
“All is as you say, but regardless of our problems, you are who they look up to. You. Take your place as Dregarus’ ruler.”
