A glimpse of music, p.12
A Glimpse of Music, page 12
Is there even a small chance you married me for something more?
When they’d first married, she hadn’t wanted anything more than security and friendship. But now? Something tugged on her heart for the man, and she wanted to explore what it was.
Thinking of when the three men had broken into her house, she shook her head but then grunted at the pain flaring in her neck. Her entire body ached, but at the moment, her neck hurt the worst. Her teeth chattered. Not from the cold but from shock. “I feel I would have been killed much sooner if you hadn’t stepped into our family.” Carefully, she measured out an adult dose of the medicine and watched as Joel swallowed it, wincing at what must be a bitter taste. “It should help your infection. I think it might make you sleepy, though.”
Slowly, his hands lifted to her neck, and he grimaced as his fingers gently grazed her skin. “Even so, I feel like such a failure. What would have happened if Bastien hadn’t interfered today?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, finally managing to thread the needle. After he stripped himself of his shirt and bloodied bandages, she gently touched the skin around his wound. It oozed blood and yellow liquid, surrounded by angry, red skin. “But in our circumstances, we didn’t have much to protect ourselves with. Besides...” His jaw clenched as she pierced his skin with the needle, but he otherwise gave no indication of his pain. “You lost your flute to protect me. I know how much you loved it.”
“I lo—” He paused to clear his throat, likely to hide the pain caused by her careful stitches. “I care about you more than my flute. It can be replaced. You can’t.”
Emotion burned her eyes. Joel always said the sweetest things, and she knew he meant them. His words helped ease some of the anguish and self-doubt clouding her heart.
She tied off the last of his stitches and dabbed yellowish ointment on top before dressing the wound. By the time she finished, he was swaying on his feet, his eyes unfocused from the side effects of the medicine. He stumbled, and she barely managed to catch him around his bare waist as she struggled to help him to the sofa. When she returned with a blanket from the closet and draped it over him, he began mumbling indecipherable nonsense.
“Get some sleep,” she murmured as she dared to stroke his hair. Like hers, it lay limp and was matted with blood. It didn’t take away from his handsome features in the slightest. “When you wake, I hope the infection will be gone.”
“Your...the curse...” he mumbled. “You need...I can’t...” He blinked sluggishly, fighting sleep.
Swallowing her trepidation, she bent down to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for getting us here. You are so good to us.”
She inhaled sharply when he cradled her face with his rough hands, his fingers tangling in her hair. Her heart thrummed within her veins, her eyes round spheres as she stared into sleepy green eyes.
His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. And when he spoke, his words escaped as a slurred mess. “Genica never...Genica isn’t...Gen...”
His body fell limp, his hands falling away from her face as he succumbed to sleep.
Silence.
A fissure formed at the top of her heart, slowly ripping downward like parchment. A tear rolled down her cheek. In his stupor, had he thought she was Genica? Why did that hurt so much?
A soft rap at the door startled her. She swiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and smoothed her skirts. She was not ready to face anyone else, especially not without Joel by her side, but she knew she must.
She opened the door.
And shock nailed her feet to the floor.
“Father,” she breathed.
Fifteen years older than she remembered, her father’s white hair seemed even whiter, now cut to his ears rather than past his shoulders like Bastien’s hair. Burdened, silver eyes gazed up at her from where he sat in a wooden wheelchair pushed by her brother. Father’s eyes misted, eyelashes frosted with teary dewdrops.
“You look exactly like your mother last I saw her,” he rasped, hands shaking in his lap. They continued to shake as he lifted a trembling hand to his face to cover his eyes as he began to weep. “I miss her so much. I’ve missed you so much.”
The high, fortified walls surrounding her heart wavered as they threatened to crumble. This was not what she’d been expecting upon meeting her father.
“May we come in?” Bastien asked, brows raised.
“This is your house,” she reminded him, stepping aside to let them in.
“Not while you’re here. For now, it’s yours.” He rolled Father inside, and her gaze remained glued to the frail man in the chair long after she shut the door behind them. Her father used to be strong, confident, and even fearsome. What had happened to him?
Without preamble, Bastien started a pot of tea, none of them speaking until he poured three steaming cups of earthy liquid into wooden mugs. He glanced toward Joel, who continued sleeping on the sofa, before putting one of the cups back into the cabinet.
She inhaled the earthy aroma of the forest with a hint of spice, gazing through the steam at her brother. He was twenty-two years old now, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones, serious eyebrows. But the mirth playing around his lips reminded her of their mother.
Laughter from her children upstairs broke them out of their wary trances, followed by more giggling and thumping as if they jumped on a bed.
“Cute children,” Bastien said, nodding toward the stairs before lowering his voice. “I’ve only seen them from a distance. That was breaking enough Attleglade laws as it was.”
Nyana’s eyebrows furrowed as she glanced between her father and brother. Slowly, she set her tea down and turned to find her father already watching her. “What do you mean? Was it illegal to see us?”
Her father blew out a long breath, sadness lingering in his eyes. “How much do you remember? You were only ten years old when the family broke apart.”
“Don’t you mean when you left us?”
The men exchanged a look before Bastien motioned for him to speak. He crossed the small kitchen and leaned against the counter, staring into his tea.
Joel’s heavy, labored breathing filled the charged silence until her father spoke. “Marrying your mother was illegal. They don’t allow outsiders to live in Attleglade, and she was a Sun Fae. For over a decade, I lived away from the forest with her. The best years of my life.” He wiped a tear from his face. And then another. “My father died. Your grandfather. The council gave me a choice. To take my father’s place as chief or be put to death and have someone replace what was my birthright.”
The tremor in his hands worsened, tea sloshing over the sides of the cup as he took a slow sip. “It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. Either way, I would be leaving your mother, so we decided I must return to the forest. Your mother begged me to take the two of you back with me to give you a better life, as we were poor and often went hungry. But the council wouldn’t allow me to take both of my children, as you, my dear Nyana, resembled the Sun Fae far too much. They only allowed me to take Bastien. Although he is half Sun Fae, he doesn’t look it.”
An ache formed in Nyana’s temples, and she closed her eyes, massaging to ease the pain. “Mother remarried.”
“I know.” A deep sadness escaped on his breath.
“She also died a few months after. Of heartbreak.”
A swallow. And then her father rasped, “I know.”
When her father began tearing up again, Bastien continued for him. “Someone on the council caught Father watching out for you in Heulwen. They’d made it clear that there would be consequences should he try to make contact with you.” He nodded toward the wheelchair. “They maimed his legs as punishment.”
Overwhelming emotion crashed over her, and she buried her head in her hands to hide it. She’d had no idea the severity of Attleglade laws. They were much worse than Killian Graves had hinted at.
“Have I endangered you both by coming here?”
More silence. She lifted her head to find her brother staring into his tea, swirling the liquid within the cup. Finally, he answered. “Your status as the previous queen of Heulwen will give the council pause to do anything rash. That and the parentage of your firstborn child.”
Her entire body tensed up, her jaw clenching as she stared back at her brother. “What do you mean? They are both Liam Everdon’s children.”
Bastien lifted an eyebrow, giving her a disbelieving stare. “Despite it being against our laws, I kept tabs on you in secret, Nyana, when Father couldn’t. Maisy was born a month early.” He put the word “early” in air quotes. “Perfectly healthy baby. Anyone who is paying close attention can connect the dots.”
Her jaw ached from the strain of clenching it. “You have no proof of anything.”
“No.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But I saw you and Calle together when he was a prince. I think that’s enough proof. And then I told the wrong person, and now everyone in Attleglade knows.” He winced. “Sorry.”
She returned to massaging her temples. It was any wonder Calle hadn’t figured it out yet himself if both Joel and Bastien had. Perhaps it was only a matter of time. She needed to tell him before he found out another way.
Wanting to turn the conversation away from Maisy, she pulled up her sleeve to show the black curse mark growing across her arm. “I came to Attleglade to ask for a favor. I beg you to give me access to the Glades. I don’t know how else to survive this curse.”
More silence.
And then Bastien approached, his eyebrows drawn together. He leaned against the table between them, watching as the black markings pulsed across her skin. “I have no idea what that is.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” her father added. But when he glanced up to meet her eye, he frowned. “The Glades are known for their healing waters. They are sacred. You are a Sun Fae, Nyana. I don’t think the council will grant you access.”
“Bastien is a Sun Fae, too,” she reminded.
“Yes, but he looks like a Forest Fae, and he has lived here for most of his life.”
A shuddering breath escaped her lungs. She’d entered the forest, but she hadn’t considered not making it to the Glades in the end. “There has to be a way. Please. Are you not the chief, Father?”
He nodded. “I am. But it’s only a title, little one.”
“But you must hold some sway over the council.”
His tea sloshed over the rim of his cup once again as the tremors returned to his hands. “I broke laws. It has been an uphill battle for Bastien since we arrived here fifteen years ago. Not everyone accepts him. Or me, for that matter.”
“But I’ll make a request,” Bastien murmured, his gaze traveling over the black markings before he grinned.
Her father snorted. “Uh-huh. A request. You don’t think they’ll catch you sneaking her up there?”
Bastien chuckled, and just the sound of his carefree laugh gave her hope. “Of course, they won’t. Just look at her. She’s tiny! I could hide her up my shirt if I have to.”
She rolled her eyes. “Funny.” But then she quickly sobered as she took in the family she’d thought had abandoned her. They’d had no other choice. “I can’t risk something happening to you two. I’ll go on my own.”
“Like hell you will. You’ll never make it past the guards. There’s a reason I’m head of the patrol. I can sneak in unnoticed. Most likely.” He nodded toward Joel. “Your husband is in bad shape. He needs to go as well.”
Grumbling under his breath, her father said, “Two people? You are going to get worse than maimed.”
“Only if I get caught.”
More grumbling.
Overwhelming gratitude crashed over her like the sweetest breeze. “I can’t ask you to do this, Bastien. Not at your own expense.”
Her brother smiled. Soft. Genuine. “It has killed both of us not being able to do anything for you, Nyana. I’m not wasting this chance.”
Before she managed a reply, the girls’ laughter echoed down the stairwell as they raced down the wooden steps. They both paused at the sight of her father and Bastien. Maisy’s expression transitioned into curiosity. Eva’s into uncertainty.
Maisy tipped her head to the side as she stared at the wheelchair. “Who are you?”
Her father’s eyes misted once again as he took each girl in. Nyana answered for him. “Maisy, Eva, this is your grandfather.”
Chapter 12
Silence descended upon Attleglade forest as if a predator stalked them through the trees. Nyana and Joel both wore white cloaks to blend in with the snow, Bastien leading them across darkened paths on silent feet. Her own boots crunched against hardened snow, and she winced when the small sound seemed like clanging pots and pans in comparison.
More than once, Joel placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her or keep her steady on loose rocks. And more than once, the heat from the simple touch scorched through her cloak and burned her skin. In a particularly long, silent stretch of forest, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His thin brows furrowed with immense concentration, his lips pursed together with determination.
He never strayed from her side.
He made her feel safe.
The realization warmed her insides, which only added to the scorching fever burning her beneath her skin where Liam’s curse lingered.
An icy breath escaped her lips in a small fog when her foot slipped on a patch of ice. Even with her makeshift cane made of a tree branch, her bad leg couldn’t catch her fast enough. She swallowed a yelp and braced herself for impact, but Joel’s strong arms caught her around the waist.
Don’t move, Bastien’s hand signal said, and all three of them froze as several figures leaped from tree to tree in the distance, away from them. Nyana took shallow breaths, the fear of getting caught pulsing through her veins.
Several minutes passed before her brother gave another hand signal for them to continue. She tightened her grip on her branch and followed after, clutching onto Joel’s arm for balance—and comfort.
Crisp, earthy scents greeted her nose as they moved farther into the forest where the bark grew thicker on the trees and winter roses climbed their trunks in a shimmering array of white and silver.
She wanted to stop and admire their beauty.
But she dared not waste a single moment.
The air chilled with each step they took up the incline, snow sparkling on all sides of them. Willow trees dripped with threads of moonlight, shimmering like a waterfall of diamonds. The streams of silver sang beneath her touch, filling her soul with beautiful music. Different than Joel’s music, but beautiful and silent all the same.
Joel’s hand gripped hers as they broke out of the willows and faced a rope bridge that stretched across a ravine with a languid river far below. The sheer drop off the cliffs churned her stomach with nervousness.
“Three guards will be on patrol,” Bastien said quietly, his intense gaze glued to the opposite side of the bridge where what appeared to be the tip of a mountain formation lay. Vines of frost and winter flowers crawled across the gray rocks, the plants also singing to her soul against a backdrop of a crashing waterfall.
The curse crawling through her blood fought against the ethereal music.
“They will see us.” She voiced her doubts just as quietly. “There is no cover on the bridge.”
“Not necessarily.” He shook his head. “Why guard the bridge against our own people? Their attention will be focused elsewhere.” His gaze traveled down her makeshift cane. “If you fall...”
“She won’t.” Joel squeezed her fingers.
“You better not keel over either.” Now he scrutinized Joel’s shoulder. Although blood seeped through his shirt, it no longer soaked the garment. His skin appeared pale, though his thin eyebrows furrowed with determination.
Another several moments of the roaring waterfall filled her ears as she waited for her brother’s signal. When he nodded his head, her heart jumped to her throat as Joel led her onto the bridge. It swayed beneath their combined weight. When Bastien followed closely behind, she clutched onto the rope railing with white-knuckled fingers to keep from falling.
She made the mistake of glancing over the side of the bridge.
Hundreds of feet lay sprawled beneath her, waiting to catch her within its unforgiving depths. Her head spun, her body swaying with startling disorientation.
A shudder ran through her body. “I’m afraid of heights,” she rasped.
“Seriously, Nyana?” Joel shot back quietly with a teasing lilt to his voice. “You are half Forest Fae. They live in trees.”
She glanced down again, and her breaths came in shallow gasps when she spotted sharp rocks lining the steep cliff edges. Slick moss coated large boulders, and misty spray shot up to veil half of the river below.
Bastien rocked the bridge back and forth with several steps. A muffled scream escaped her mouth as she clutched onto the rope for dear life.
Joel glared at him. “Stop that. It’s not funny.”
Her brother shrugged and grinned unrepentantly. “It’s a little funny.”
I’m going to kill you, she wanted to say, but her throat closed around her words. She’d forgotten how much Bastien had teased her as children. He’d been exasperating, but they’d been the best of friends in their childhood.
“Close your eyes,” Joel murmured in her ear as he securely gripped her elbow. “We’re almost there.”
“We’re going to fall.” Yet, she snapped her eyes shut. If she kept them open any longer, she might retch over the side of the bridge, and then she would surely fall to her death.
“We won’t.” With his guiding hand, she dared to lean against him as she took step after step across the rickety bridge, breathing deeply through her nose. A cold spray misted her face, and soon she found herself shivering from both terror and the cold.
But when her foot found purchase on soft grass, she opened her eyes and exhaled a breath of relief. She tried hard not to think about how they had to cross the bridge again on their way back—
