Page 18

Mercenary Stronghold

Lying in bed, I sigh heavily as I struggle to comprehend why I kissed Cambion. Our bond should have suffered at least a little, right? Then why do I feel like I can’t breathe without him? When we were so close and the desire was building inside me, I felt different. I felt light and almost like I was under the influence of something.

It wasn’t the dark and wholly encompassing passion I feel with Dragan and Baron. It was something more… wholesome for lack of a better word. Yes, I wanted Cambion—my desire was definitely there but it felt more innocent in a way.

This isn’t the lust of my succubus side, of that I’m sure. Cambion is the light, he’s warmth—and that’s what I want—what I need. His light pulls at my own, encouraging my angelic side to come to the forefront.

Even if I wanted Cambion then and I still do now, it doesn’t change the fact that for now, I have to resist him and the others. There’s too much at stake—too much going on with Morrigan and Variant. I’ve been thrust into the position of leader and I need to do just that. I can’t have men on my brain.

Someone clears his throat from outside my tent. I throw my legs out from under the covers atop my cot and tighten my robe before I answer. “Yes?”

“Walk with me,” Myerdoth requests. The gargoyle chose to stay behind to watch over me after the others left. Dragan was uncertain at first, but after a conversation with Myerdoth, he gave his blessing.

“I have to change,” I say as I let him in and I pull on my breeches and tunic. I forego the corset, finding it impractical for a night walk. The polite gargoyle keeps his back to me asI change, making no move to sneak a glance and I appreciate that. He offers his arm once I’m dressed and we set out into the streets.

“I sensed you couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“I’m too worried to sleep.”

“For Dragan and the others?” he questions.

“No. They’re fighters at heart. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“Then?”

I nod. “I worry for myself, honestly. Finding my purpose here, finding the strength to lead everyone.”

“They all follow you willingly.”

“Yes, but what if it’s not enough?” I wonder aloud. “And I can’t help but wonder if Baron, Dragan or Cambion all wish to lead in my stead? Maybe they think they’d do a better job of it? And I wonder the same, myself”

“Why would you think that?”

I shrug. “They were all once kings.” I take a breath.

“They don’t appear as kings now with the way they squabble amongst themselves,” he answers with a shrug.

“You weren’t on the road with us when we traveled to Earlann at the start of our journey. All three of them fought for leadership and they all seemed to have been well equipped for the position.”

“Why fear that then? Who cares if they wish to lead?”

“I hope none of them resent me for this position I’ve taken.”

“Do any of them seem to resent you?”

I’m quiet for a moment. “Well, no.”

“Perhaps there is your answer?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

Myerdoth falls silent once more, but his steps slow to a more casual pace. He takes me to places in the city I’ve yet to visit and he shows me where the fae we rescued are living after their liberation. “You should visit them. They all sing your praises andI’m sure they would love to meet the one who freed them from Variant and the Midnight Queen.”

“Allof us saved them. Not just me.”

“That’s not the story Kolvar tells in the Hall of Clans,” the gargoyle says with a slight twitch at the corner of his lips. “I know being a leader is difficult. I was the first of my kind and one of the last, just as you are. And though I’ve lived to see this world die and resurrect itself more times than you can imagine, I still carry the burden of a leader and the guilt of a survivor.”

We return as the sun rises. Myerdoth flies up onto the wall and turns to stone—into his gargoyle form. I shuffle into the building, walking over unfinished projects that are sure to make this place a home worthy of the rebellion. Other clan leaders that neighbor our section of the stronghold compliment the progress we’ve made. Just a few weeks ago, we were a group of wayward souls hiding in the spirit world. Now, we’re respected leaders of a resistance that seeks to unite the realms.

Cambion’s tent flap opens, and his bare chest glistens in the faint light of the sun. Leaning against the frame, he eyes me with precaution—as ifI’mthe one who’s a threat tohissanity.