Light Wielder (Fire & Metal, #2) — Chapter 34

Chapter 34

JO

The water is freezing, but the shower is just what I needed. I stand under the spigot for longer than necessary, just letting the water pour down my face and soak into my hair. It feels like a ritual cleansing of some sort after last night.

I could have run once Acker had walked out of the tavern. Likely should have, at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

But his kiss.

It was all-consuming. No longer me or him, just us, as we gave in to the desire. For a few sweet seconds, it was pure need. Only for me to be blindsided by the onslaught of his emotions.

I never knew the true extent of what the Bond allowed him to sense from me, but it’s apparent my emotions have been more readily available to him than my thoughts ever were. He wanted to give me the same in return.

The hurt and love and desperation … All of it was too much.

Overwhelming, even as I recall it now. And as cathartic as it is to know I was wrong in my assumption that Acker never loved me, it doesn’t erase my anger. He’s been against me for so long. I can’t help but wonder what ulterior motives there are that I can’t see. What he didn’t share.

The marks around my hands and wrists are physical reminders of his transgressions. Marrying Irina, spying on me, sending the Strou to my lands to kill my people. All things he’s proven to be plenty capable of while still loving me. Showing me his cards feels like a very convenient distraction.

I wring out my hair and braid it before putting my tunic back on. The rest of my clothes I wash under the spray as best I can, then hang them over the door to dry. I check to make sure no one is in the hallway before I hurry back to my room. There, I am surprised to find fresh clothes folded at the foot of my bed. I’m shivering, skin prickling with the cold, and I waste no time getting dressed. I’m pleased with how well the riding pants and linen shirt fit.

I shove my dagger into the waistband of my pants before heading downstairs, following the voices to the kitchen.

I recognize Wells’s voice first. “Can we trust her?”

Fredrich’s comes next. “Absolutely not.”

“Then what—”

Acker hushes Irina before she can finish speaking and they all turn to look at me when I step through the doorway. The kitchen is long and narrow, without windows. Candles line the shelves above the prep station, where used bowls and utensils were left out by the missing cooks, pots still sitting on the wood stove against the far wall. The four of them are nestled around the butcher-block table in the center of the room and my eyes go straight to the meal they’re sharing. My hollow stomach clenches and I can’t remember the last decent meal I had.

Fredrich is the first to speak. “Good afternoon,” he says.

Afternoon? “What time is it?”

“A smidge past one,” he says, holding up his fingers in a pinch.

It was light by the time my mind finally turned off, but I don’t usually sleep longer than a few hours at most. My eyes lock with Acker’s and the tether hums at our close proximity. I’m concerned the kiss we shared may have encouraged the Bond somehow.

Slowly, Acker’s dark gaze trails down the length of my body. Accessing my newly acquired outfit, I presume. There’s nothing scandalous about the simple garments, but it doesn’t stop a blush from trying to creep into my

cheeks.

Put me out of my misery.

The desperate man from last night is nothing but a distant memory. This is the Acker I’m accustomed to, the one who’s self-assured and daring enough to not care about the two other men in the room when he looks at

me with heat in his gaze. Or his wife, for that matter. It somehow lessens

the pressure in my chest.

I know how to handle this Acker.

Irina’s eyes flick from her husband’s profile to me, and back again.

Acker left the tavern not long after trying to … recruit me? Or maybe he really was trying to end his own life. Who the hell knows? Whatever his end goal, he failed, and it was late into the night before he would have returned to her bed. I try to conjure a sense of guilt for kissing her husband, but it doesn’t come. Out of all of my transgressions in this life, I’m afraid it doesn’t hold a candle to the worst of them.

My eyes stick on the gash under the hinge of his jaw. It’s no longer bleeding, but it isn’t healing as it should, either.

“Come eat,” he says, with a tilt of his chin.

The plethora of dried meats and cheeses on the table draws me in.

Fredrich shifts his stool over to make room for me, and I give him my thanks as I reach for a piece of cheese.

A shocked grin pulls at Wells’s mouth. “Take the girl out of restraints and she remembers her manners all of a sudden.”

Layering a slice of meat on top of a square of cheese, I pop it into my mouth, then follow it with a bite of bread. It’s stale and instantly dries out my mouth, making it difficult to swallow. Grinning, Fredrich slides over a waterskin. I thank him, but it comes out as a mumbled mess before I take a drink.

“Okay,” Wells says, “maybe manners was a bit generous.”

I make an obscene gesture with the hand I’m not using to pick out the best bits of cheese.

“Now that we’re all here,” Acker says, running a hand across his jaw, “we need to discuss our next course of action.”

“I thought you were all in agreement that I’m not to be trusted,” I say

between bites.

No one refutes my statement.

“There’s not a person at this table I trust,” he says. When everyone turns their offended gazes on him, he leans back in his seat and raises his hands defensively. “Not even myself.”

I stop mid-chew, stunned by his admission.

“I misled you into believing I went to Maile in a bid to seek an alliance, and while that is partially true, my father believes I went to retrieve my sister.”

“Ace,” Fredrich says, voice mixed with disbelief and anger.

Acker ignores him, continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “My father currently holds the magic of three gifts: fire, kinesis, and influence.

At least, those are the ones I was made aware of when he was actively trying to manipulate me into pursuing Beau for her gift.”

I swallow. “How were you able to resist it?”

“I’m not sure I did.” Acker’s eyes fall to the table for a beat before he looks back at me. “I wanted to kill him just moments before. He knew it, too, and yet … I didn’t. It might have been the mangi stones I was wearing that shielded me from some of the influence, but I suspect he’s either weaker than he wants me to believe, or he’s being very careful not to overdo it and tip his hand.”

“Fucking hell,” Fredrich says, blowing out a large breath.

“That’s where he believes you are now,” I say. “Retrieving Beau?” His gaze slides to Irina, and I wiggle a finger around the table. “Circle of non- trust, remember?”

Acker’s eyes darken with something I don’t like. “Before I share any more of my secrets, why don’t we share one of yours?” There’s a poignant beat before his stare shifts to the man beside me.

The smile on Wells’s face looks unnatural on him. Too reckless. “How’d you figure it out?”

“It was a number of things,” Acker says, leaning an elbow on the table.

“The first was the fact that Wells would be hard-pressed to leave his Match in the first place, let alone now that she’s pregnant. Then there’s your scent.

Wells smells like scorched iron and bergamot. You, Messer, smell like a wet

dog.”

Fredrich makes a face. “What?”

Pulling a dagger from the strap on his chest, Acker twirls it in his hand.

“But the biggest giveaway was when you refused to light a flame to keep us warm. If you had known anything about Wells, it’s that he hates the cold.”

“If you knew this whole time, why didn’t you say anything?” I ask Acker.

“Because he’s had ample opportunity to rescue you, and didn’t,” he says, eyes holding mine. “I figured at worst he could provide another level

of protection.”

For me, he means.

Wells’s eyes meet mine. Or, I suppose I should say, Messer looks at me, because it’s clearly not Wells behind the brown irises.

“It was a long shot,” he says, voice distorting, the inflection sounding more like himself than the man he’s been mimicking.

Standing, he toes off his boots and stretches his arms out to his sides, shaking them. He shifts before our eyes. Taller by two, then three inches, hair curling out at the ends. Brown eyes swirl to blue as his facial features rearrange into something more familiar to me. The cracking of bones and cartilage makes the whole ordeal sound painful. At least he’s able to remain dressed, given that Wells’s stature isn’t too different from his normal size.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Irina groans, covering her mouth.

Fredrich also stands from his seat and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him truly unsettled. “Good gods,” he murmurs. “Since when can shifters replicate humans?”

“According to the old texts, only the most powerful ones are able to do so. Such as one capable of maintaining their shifted form over the open sea.” Acker uses the dagger to point at my friend. “Cocky of you to think you could get away with it twice. The both of you,” he says, eyes straying

to me.

I wasn’t aware the first time.

“How the fu—” Fredrich stops and shakes his head, thoroughly floored by this turn of events. “How’d you know I was planning on taking her?”

“When B didn’t show for morning conditioning, I figured she was busy and flew to the wharf to check in with Drake. He made an offhand comment about Jovie likely being too tired from the night before,” Messer says, returning to his stool. “He said a palace aide came to the tavern to retrieve you, Fredrich, personally, and I immediately knew something was up, because B would never send a request for a late-night rendezvous.”

But when both Fredrick and Acker’s gazes land on me with the same knowing expression, Messer notices instantly, eyes widening at the heat slowly coloring my cheeks. “It’s not up for discussion,” I tell him firmly.

“No shit?” he says, a sly grin quirking his mouth. “This makes this whole dynamic much more interesting.” He looks from Fredrich to Acker.

“That explains the skirmish on deck.”

Acker’s eyes darken. “She said it’s not up for discussion.”

The longer Messer stares, the more uncomfortable I get. Eyes darting between the three of us for a long, assessing a moment before he nearly jolts out of his seat at whatever he sees. “Both at the same time?” he asks,

turning to me with eyes wide.

I cradle my face in my hand.

He slaps the table, a sharp bark of laughter escaping him. “I’m damn proud of you, B!”

I elbow him with enough oomph behind it that it shuts him up, his smile faltering as he grunts with pain.

Irina’s eye roll is practically audible. “As if using your title to procure sexual favors is something to be proud of.”

Acker’s eyes flash with anger as he turns to snap, “And how do you classify your relationship with Wesley, then? Are only you allowed to have a consort?”

It’s Irina’s turn to be embarrassed, her face turning beet red. I don’t allow my curiosity to get the best of me. I don’t need to know who this Wesley is or what he means in terms of their marriage. None of it is my business.

“Anyway,” Messer says, alleviating the tension as he dives back into his explanation. “I flew to B’s balcony but found her room empty. I almost didn’t think anything of it. Except, right before I was about to take off, I saw one of the rabbits in the palace courtyard carrying something odd in its mouth.” He leans forward with his hands braced on the table, the sleeves a smidge shorter on his arms than they were on Wells’s. “Imagine my surprise when I realized it was a string of mangi stones.”

I instinctively feel for the stones around my neck even though I logically know they’re not there.

“The scent of both you and B were still fresh in her room, but it was the smell of the sleeping fungi that confirmed my suspicions,” he says to Fredrich. “I followed it out the palace’s front door before I lost the trail, but I figured that if I stuck with Acker, you’d come to me with B in tow.”

“He could have been acting alone,” Acker says, noncommittal.

Messer gives him a look that says something like do I look stupid to you? and Acker returns the look with one of his own that says Messer

wouldn’t like his answer.

“And Wells?” Fredrich inquires.

Messer shrugs as he begins to graze on the remaining food. “Evelyn has likely put the pieces together by now, and she’s undoubtedly pissed. I’m not sure what that means for your friend, considering he arrived with her kidnapper, but I imagine there’s a tiny bit of torture involved.”

Acker’s mouth thins as he considers the position Wells is in. The position he put him in.

“Beau won’t let anything happen to him,” I assure Acker and Fredrich both. “My mother will question him, yes, but not in the way Messer wants you to believe.”

“You could have let him worry for a little longer, B,” Messer says, his mouth full. “So, what’s the plan, Ace?”

Acker only gives Messer an acrid look in reply.

“Please tell me I didn’t subject myself to your wonderful company for days on end only to find you don’t even have a plan of action,” Messer says.

Sucking on his teeth, Acker cocks his head to the side, eyes sliding to Irina. An understanding passes between the two of them that has me averting my eyes, and I once again have to remind myself that my curiosity will be the death of me if I don’t get it under control.

He returns his gaze to Messer, then myself, before he says, “I want to cut off the head off the snake.”

“Oh, we knew your father had to go a long time ago,” Messer says.

“Don’t take credit for our idea now.”

An amused smile tugs at Acker’s mouth that makes me sit forward. “Not just my father. All of them.”

“You want to kill all the current monarchs?” I ask.

He tilts his head back and forth. “More or less.”

“That won’t solve anything, only allow more power-hungry fools to take their places,” Messer says. “My father’s been third in command of the Alaha for decades and has been itching for Wren’s title the whole time, and I guarantee you we don’t want that fucker sitting on any throne.”

“We replace them,” Fredrich interjects.

As I look around the table, the puzzle pieces begin falling into place.

Irina, Acker, and I all have legitimate claims to a territory. That’s three out of five already present and accounted for. One of us with a secured title already—me.

Acker nods, as if he can see me coming to the right conclusion, and says, “We will be the ones to choose who gets to wear a crown.”

“And if the councils object?” Messer asks.

Acker shrugs as if the answer is as easy as it is simple.

“Then they die.”