Chapter
Thirty-One
Sebian Present Day, Deepmarsh Castle, stables
ius gave a snort when I tightened the girth on his saddle, peeking his brown head toward it for a moment before the white blaze on his nose disappeared into the bucket of oats. Much to theP frustration of the chestnut mare tied across, who banged her hoof against the wooden planks that separated the two, demanding a treat of her own.
“All tacked-up and ready.” I gave Pius a gentle pat on the neck before I clenched and unclenched my fingers, trying to force the bone-deep chill from my hand. Galantia would need good gloves and a warm cape. “Make sure you water him when he’s done eating!”
“I will!” Olivar said as he appeared from around the corner, the boy all but dragging a saddle over the straw-covered ground before he tried to lift the heavy thing over his head. “Just as soon as I… as I ready… ready—a”
I grabbed the saddle before he’d collapse under its weight. “Which horse?”
“Prince Malyr’s,” he said on an exhale, wiping at his red cheeks before he pointed at the black gelding.
“I didn’t know he was riding out this morning.” With a swing upward, I placed the saddle on the gelding’s back, making sure it sat properly before I gave Olivar a dip of my head. “Don’t forget to water Pius. He’s got a long ride ahead of him.”
I stepped out of the stables and into the morning fog that lingered between the buildings that framed the courtyard, the air wet and biting. Not the best weather to take Galantia to the western cliffs, but how could I deny her with how excited she was? With how I wanted to show her what it meant to be Raven?
Long strides took me up the steps and through the great hall, most of the walls already decorated for the wedding. Garlands of intertwined branches hung along the rafters, dotted with moss, bark strips, pine needles, and other nesting material. Servants sat in small chattering groups by the tables here and there, weaving black feathers into ornaments, though some plucked the white plumes from a couple of dead geese.
With most of the flight holes in this area sealed off, I had no other choice but to make my way along the corridor until I reached the double doors that lead to Galantia’s private rooms, which were located right across Malyr’s. A glance over my shoulder ensured discretion—not that any Raven cared a whit about who fucked whom; humans, however… Behind the doors, the familiar scent of honeysuckle climbed into my nostrils. Also lemongrass.
Because Malyr leaned with his shoulder against the stone archway, one leg lazily crossed behind the other, hovering a deep purple prune in front of his mouth as if he’d forgotten it was for eating.
Secretly watching Galantia.
“I saw Olivar got your gelding ready,” I said quietly as I stepped up beside him. “Where to this morning?”
He released a long breath and finally took a bite of his prune. “Around and around, riding in endless circles through the forest. As if listening to the petitions of my human lords is any less tiresome on the back of a horse.” He turned his head, giving my fur-lined and polished brown cuirass an assessing look before he arched a brow. “You almost look lordly.”
“Almost,” I said. “I’m taking Galantia to the cliffs out west for the day.”
“Was that today?” His attention returned to the room before us, to Galantia. “Mmm… I’d nearly forgotten.”
I followed his line of sight to where she carefully ran a bristle brush over those few wisps of hair Tjema still had on her maimed side, the girl sitting on the stool in front of the mirror cabinet. Galantia ran her fingernail along Tjema’s puckered scalp, bringing a handful of black hair over to the marred side of her face. Next, she gathered strands, braiding them loosely down the girl’s side before she rolled it up and pinned it down.
“Queen Taramia used to wear it like this after her husband had her ear cut off for sedition,”
Galantia said, threading a teal ribbon into the plaited nest of hair before she tugged a strand to fall loosely over the damaged eye. “Few knew what the king had done that to her, so the ladies at court were none the wiser and started braiding their hair in the same manner, making it quite fashionable.”
Tjema lifted her fingers to her face, hesitated, then stroked down her melted skin. “People can still see the scars.”
Galantia put the brush down. “They will be invisible to those who truly love you.”
Beside me, Malyr shifted ever so slightly, his jaws moving as if he wasn’t sure quite what face to make. Did this surprise him? How Galantia extended her kind heart to help a disfigured girl feel prettier, if only for a day? Probably. I could hardly blame him.
It wasn’t like he’d taken the time to look past the close-minded, spoiled, self-centered girl we’d captured, finding the caring, curious soul hidden in the center. That he did so now should be a relief for me, so why did my molars clench? Because I didn’t know if I should trust it. Because he’d given her a bracelet that was absolutely meaningless.
Did his anoa have an unhealthy obsession with shiny stuff? Of course. But it sure as fuck weren’t buttons… Malyr turned heel and walked away with a mumbled, “Come see me in my library before you leave.”
When he was out the door, I stepped through the archway, finding Tjema’s eyes in the mirror. “By the goddess and all her stars, who is this stunning young woman, Lady Galantia?”
Tjema hiked her shoulders, giving me a sheepish look as she rose, slowly turning to present her hair. “Galantia did my hair like that of a queen.”
“Did she now?” I walked up to them, giving a little tug on Tjema’s ribbon in assessment. “Every Raven boy in Deepmarsh will think you’re bonded and pull their tail feathers out over it.”
Galantia gleamed at me as if I’d saved a kitten from a tree, mouthing a ‘Thank you.’ ‘Whatever it takes to make you look at me like that,’ I mouthed back, which had her frown, of course, but I simply winked and returned my attention to Tjema. “Can you get Galantia some gloves?
Warmest you can find, along with a heavy cape. It’s freezing outside.”
When Tjema raced off, I took Galantia’s hand. One tug, and I pulled her into my chest, running my palm down along the sway of her hip, kneading the flesh through the heavy fabric of her fur-lined dress. I gathered up the train and slid my fingers between her inner thighs, rubbing along her slit, loving the way her pulse quickened.
Her head lolled to the side and her eyes fluttered shut on a moan. “What are you doing?”
“Checking your dress,” I whispered against the tendon that protruded along the side of her neck, pupils catching on every drum that pulsed beneath her skin. “Making sure it’s warm enough.”
Her grin brushed against the corner of my mouth as she turned her head, staring up at me from those beautiful hazel eyes. “She’ll be back soon.”
My gaze slipped to her lips like it had done at least a dozen times now, stirring up a swirl of energy in my core that fluttered straight into my stomach. She wanted me to kiss her. So many times,
she’d wanted this kiss. So did I but…
I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.
It wouldn’t be right.
“Oh, sweetheart, I can be so fast without even trying.” I grabbed her thighs, lifted her up, and carried her over to the desk that stood beneath the window that overlooked Malyr’s garden.
Candlestick. Parchment. Flowers. One swipe of my arm cleared the surface where I sat her down.
“You’re no longer ovulating.”
“You must know,” she said, grabbing my hips and pulling me between her needy legs. “After all, I woke to your tongue between my legs.”
“Because you’re fucking delicious.” I quickly undid the front of my breeches, took my hard cock out, and shoved inside her on a shared groan. “Fuck, you feel so damn good. So wet. So tight.”
Teasing me to drive into her fast and hard. Nothing but a morning fuck—quick, fleeting, meaningless. I’d had hundreds of those across the castle with whatever healthy-smelling female
willingly lifted her skirts.
Until Galantia.
I lowered my forehead against hers, neither thrusting nor pulling back, but rather, taking in the still sensation of being inside her. I enjoyed the closeness between us, the smell of our mingled scents, the way our breaths became one in the gap between our quivering lips.
Connection.
Intimacy.
Something I hadn’t allowed myself to enjoy in so long, my entire body soaked it up, let it seep through my flesh and bones before it settled in my core, warm and languid. That, too, wasn’t right.
What could I say? I should have fucking died the night of that attack, but I didn’t. Was painfully alive, longing for all those things that made each day I waited for revenge a little more bearable.
I curled my fingers around the back of her head, angling it until her pulse lay exposed where it thudded beside a vein in her neck. My next thrust came with the descend of my mouth before I kissed a path from the base of her shoulder to her earlobe. I could give her at least that. Loved how she shuddered in my arms—and only in my arms.
Right now, she was mine.
At least, that was what I told myself as I rocked in and out of her, pretending she could be, that I would deserve such a thing as a mate. Until hurried little footsteps pounded the stone nearby.
I pulled out, quickly brushed Galantia’s skirts down, and turned away.
I was still struggling my erection back behind the leathers of my breeches when Tjema merrily announced, “Darien weaved me the warmest cape! And I found good, warm gloves.”
“I told you so,” Galantia whispered as she slipped off the desk, turning toward the girl to receive the items. “Thank you. These will do nicely.”
I ran a finger over the small of Galantia’s back. “Finish dressing, then go to the stables. Malyr wants to talk to me, but I’ll meet you there.”
At her nod, I turned away and strode off, quietly slipping out of her private rooms and back into the corridor. If we left Deepmarsh within the hour, we would reach the coast before the sun— I froze right where I stood between the doors of the lord’s and lady’s private rooms. “What a strange place to run into you.”
Cici was still closing the door to Malyr’s rooms behind her when her eyes found mine, a taunting, pouty smile shifting around on her lips. “I could say the same. Presume it is a good thing we both share a prudent mind, knowing the importance of the word discretion.”
That last word lingered as I watched her glide along the corridor in her green silk gown, one of her pinned-up curls suspiciously out of place where the single coil bounced between her shoulder blades. One year. One year of her pushing her tits up and fluttering her eyes at Malyr, and now she’d managed herself into his rooms? Now?
I crossed the final few steps to Malyr’s doors. I’d never bothered to knock, and I would certainly not start now. I showed myself right in, slammed the door shut behind me before I crossed his library and strode straight to where he sat at his desk.
“I met Cici in the corridor,” I said as I let myself slump into the armchair by the window, my voice biting even to my own ears. “What was she doing in here, leaving your chambers at the hour of the rooster?”
Malyr didn’t bother looking up from whatever he was writing, and merely continued to run the quill over the parchment, allowing the black ink to form fancy letters. “Playing at politics. Since when do you concern yourself with the women who enter and leave my chambers?”
I inhaled deeply, taking in the smells that clung to his riding outfit, his hair, every inch of his personal rooms. Lemongrass. Leather. Parchment. Beeswax. Ink. Rose petals. Whatever he’d done with Cici, he hadn’t fucked her—there was no trace of her scent on him. Come to think, there wasn’t even the faintest trace of any woman on him. Not Cici. Not Lorn.
Only Galantia.
I didn’t know what to make of that, so I only said, “Since you acquired a betrothed.”
I’d told myself I would protect Galantia, be it from his shadows, the worst of his moods, or
whatever was going on here. Something didn’t feel right… Scoffing, Malyr gave a slow shake of his head as he dipped the quill into the inkwell, then continued writing. “Rumor reached me that my betrothed is fucking my best friend. I doubt it would break my wife’s heart if I continued to enjoy other lovers.”
My hands curled into fists because that was precisely my fear. The night of the kjaer? Goddess help her, Galantia’s heart had stumbled over every whispered oath, every loving touch between them, every circle their feet danced into the grass. For a girl locked up, negotiated away, and ultimately abandoned, it might take as little as that kiss she wanted so badly to fall in love, to hand her heart to Malyr.
My guts tangled inside my stomach. Fucking shit, I should have kissed her. Why hadn’t I kissed her? Were my hands the safest place for her to rest her heart? Probably not. Still safer than Malyr’s, though!
“Why buttons?” I asked. “Because you happened to pass Darien’s button jar, conveniently grabbing a random handful?”
“Actually, I sent a maid to grab me a random handful.” His handwriting continued in easy sways and elegant weaves, as if he wasn’t ruffling my feathers with his nonchalance. “If there was any part of me that still hoped to bond one day, it extinguished the night of the kjaer when I spoke oaths to a woman who will never truly be mine. But I will not gift her any of those treasures my anoa has been piling up for years to impress my mate. Some things are meant to stay with what could have been.
What should have been, had life not interfered.” Finally, he lifted the quill from the parchment and looked at me. “I figured that, among all the people surrounding me, you would understand best, considering that your lips never touched hers.”
My mouth turned dry. Great, now that I had his attention, I no longer wanted it… I turned my head to stare out the window, immediately frowning at the flurry that whirled outside.
“It’s snowing.”
Malyr looked outside, narrowed his eyes, then slammed the quill down with such force, the inkwell jumped, spilling black droplets that drowned out the fine letters. “Blasted mess!”
“It’s just snow, Malyr. Happens every winter. It’s not like we were planning to fly on the capital anytime soon…” I arched a brow at how he frantically pressed another parchment onto his writing, trying to soak up the excess ink. “What is that?”
“The reason I asked you here. This ruined letter to Lord Kullen was supposed to inform him that a party of fifty riders left Ammarett to head far north,” he said, rubbing his ink-stained finger on his breeches. “Under the banners of Prince Domren.”
Prince Domren… I shifted in the chair, blood heating at the mere sound of his name. “What’s he doing north? So far outside his father’s walls?”
“Word about my betrothal to Galantia and the subsequent alliance with Tidestone must have finally reached the capital,” Malyr said. “My guess is as good as yours, but both Asker and I think Domren is trying to find himself a new bride in the unclaimed north.”
“And a new, closer ally right along with it,” I said, sensing my anoa spread its wings at my core, cawing, croaking, demanding that bastard’s guts. I owed them that. Owed that to every poor soul who lost their life because of my fucking stupidity! “We have to fly up there. How far north did we spot
him? You said… what? Fifty riders?”
Malyr shrugged. “Give or take.”
“Archers?”
“Not from what the scouts reported. They don’t expect us to head this far north over it, and for good reason, Sebian. I merely shared this so you would be aware of his movements.”
“They’re out in the wide open without archers?” That was too golden an opportunity to pass up.
“We can take them with half that if you send me with the best deathweavers and pathfinders!”
Malyr leaned deeper into his chair, allowing himself to slip down some before he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Not possible. Everyone is flying in and gathering for the wedding. Galantia will leave for Tidestone in eleven days. I cannot weaken our army like that over something that will give us nothing. The clans in the unclaimed north mostly quarrel with each other, so I’m barely concerned about the few men Ammarett might gain.”
“Maybe it’s nothing to you, but it’s the only thing that has kept me fucking breathing for the last five years.” Revenge. And it was so close. So close! “I’ll fly north myself,” I said and jumped from my chair, helping myself to one of the small maps on his desk. “Mark where he was spotted. I don’t need to face off fifty riders. One arrow and true aim is all I need. I’ll fucking kill him, be back before the wedding, and we’ll eat his fucking guts at the feast!”
