Page 29 of Blackwarden

Rosalin

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I couldn’t stop staring at Keres’ tattoos as he sat on the side of the bed to pull on a pair of pants.

Without sheer fabric covering his back, I was able to see every delicate detail of the serpents as they danced around his shoulder blades and twisted down his spine.

They weren’t quite dragons as I originally thought, they were something else entirely, long and lean, like him.

The ink almost shimmered in the low light, as if made of scales, the wings spreading out to his shoulders.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached for him.

He flinched at my touch, lifting his head for a split second before he relaxed.

I traced my fingers over the soft skin of his back.

So elegant. That’s what they were. Like much of the Gatehouse, they were ornate without being gaudy.

And while the tattoos covered his entire back, they fit perfectly.

Another facet to him that I’d found behind the door he’d kept locked tight.

I knew I shouldn’t ask more questions, and yet I couldn’t stop myself. “What are they?”

“Ancient Blackwardens from a time before the Earth Mother created the High Fae. ”

A shiver ran through me at his words. So much time, a concept that was hard for me to grasp. He was speaking of thousands of years—to when the world was new. It left me with even more questions.

“Are you High Fae?”

“Yes, in a way? And no.” He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Dark Fae are...complicated. There’s more than High Fae in my blood.”

“Are you...a serpent?”

A bright laugh escaped him as he turned toward me.

“No, but it’s rumored the first of my family was created with serpent’s blood and the soul of a demon.”

I let his words sink in, more questions blooming in their wake.

“How old are you?”

He chuckled as he lay back on the bed beside me and pulled me tight against him, the heat of his skin against mine curling my toes. I melted into his arms, wishing I could stay there forever.

“So many questions, Ms. Greene.” I blushed as he kissed my neck, gliding a hand down the length of my naked body.

He hadn’t made it very far in his attempt to finally get out of bed.

“Old enough that I don’t remember exactly how old I am,” he said against my skin, before he kissed down to the hollow of my throat.

“That doesn’t seem possible,” I said, my voice far breathier than I’d intended, but his lips were so...

Another chuckle resonated through him and into me, heating my blood. I’d never get enough of this warm Keres—the one that smiled and laughed with ease. He’d banished the cold Keres who’d kept me at arm’s length, and I hoped that one never returned.

“Does it matter how old I am?” he asked, pulling back, dark eyes wandering over my face as if he’d never seen me before.

“Not really,” I managed, trying to ignore how his fingers traced over the sensitive skin at my hips then traced a line up to my breast.

“I’ve seen human empires rise and fall, entire kingdoms shattered into countless pieces.

I’ve watched the human world be divided up between magistrates.

I saw the Hag Queen take her frozen throne.

” His fingers danced over my ribs, drawing a pattern down to my hip.

“I was there when the Fae Wars ignited and when the final treaty was signed in blood.” He swallowed, a strange sorrow staining his words.

“I don’t remember my mother’s voice anymore and I have long since forgotten the shape of my father’s horns. ”

He was quiet for a long time, his eyes following his hand as it trailed over the curve of my shoulder and down my arm.

“Age is just a number, one that loses its meaning the longer it stretches.” He kissed me. Softly, slowly, his tongue gliding over my lips.

I was truly undone. My mind emptied of any other questions I may have had.

For a moment I forgot where I was and why I was there.

It was only me, and Keres, and his delicious hands.

He pulled me up with him before he slid us both to the edge of the bed, my legs wrapped around him, all without his lips leaving mine.

When he did finally pull away there was a wistful look in his eyes.

One I’d never seen before. It made my throat tighten.

“We need to go to breakfast before the Gatehouse gets impatient,” he whispered, almost as if he didn’t want the Gatehouse to hear.

“Won’t it wait for you?”

He grinned before planting a sweet kiss on the tip of my nose. “Definitely not for me, but maybe for you.”

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I felt empty when I finally left Keres’ side.

Reluctant to be alone, I slowly wandered back to my suite in nothing but my chemise and the memory of his hands on my skin.

It was hard to focus on anything else as I bathed and rummaged through my wardrobe for something to wear.

Today, it contained midnight blue gowns for me to choose from, and it only made my growing sorrow worse.

By this evening, I would be gone. Keres would take me to the Unseelie Court and hand me over to the Hag Queen.

I could see in his eyes that he didn’t want to, but I also saw there was nothing he could do not to.

I tried to be strong, but I knew he could feel it like all my other emotions.

It didn’t matter how many times I wished, or begged, or asked the Gatehouse to stop him from taking me.

This was why I was here—to be taken to the Dark Fae as a sacrifice.

He still couldn’t tell me what that entailed, only that he would do everything in his power to make it easier for me.

But what would he make easier? That I’d be ripped from his arms? This would be agony enough, but I feared there was so much worse in store for me.

After breakfast he told me he needed to try and imbue my portrait, that I shouldn’t worry about him if he didn’t come to lunch.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, and he couldn’t seem to tell me.

I grew worried by late afternoon when I still hadn’t seen him.

I could no longer sit still. I’d read through all the books he’d left for me, practiced all the etiquette, and when I had nothing left to do, I started wandering the halls.

I ran my fingers over the woodwork and admired the craftsmanship of every detail.

The Gatehouse was truly beautiful in a sleek, dark way.

Like Keres, shadows seemed to cling to the walls and obscure just enough to make me dreadfully curious what was beneath.

I stopped short in front of the mural, my heart rate spiking. It had changed, again .

The dark monster that had been chasing me now wrapped his arms around me from behind, wings curving in protectively.

My face was peaceful and turned toward him, our noses touching.

The contrast between his pitch-black and my pale flesh was jarring.

The creature and I appeared to be opposites woven together in a lovers’ embrace.

Had Keres painted this? Was the black fleshed monster supposed to be him?

The way he’d questioned me about the color of his skin came flooding back as I realized he might not be as pale as he appeared. He might look exactly like the dark creature in the mural, glamoured to look like a beautiful human man. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Did it matter what he looked like? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wildly attracted to him, but if he’d just been an average looking man, would it change how I felt?

If he looked like the monster holding me in the mural, would I care for him any differently?

Would I have opened my heart if he’d looked like the creatures from my storybook?

My chest tightened. Was I so shallow to base my attractions solely on appearances?

I pressed a hand to my sternum, the air around me suddenly very thick.

I was exactly as Keres said humans were.

I squeezed my eyes closed as I realized I’d assumed the creatures in the mural were monsters.

The truth was, I didn’t know what or who they were.

I had no idea, and I’d judged all Dark Fae against one’s actions.

But Keres had already broken the mold of my preconceptions.

Why was it so hard to see that perhaps the label thrust upon him might not carry the meaning I’d given it?

All my life I’d been taught that Dark Fae were monsters.

Just because I’d been taught something didn’t mean it was true.

Yet, in my heart, monsters were ugly inside and out.

I pressed my fingers to the image of myself and the dark fleshed Fae, every muscle in my being tight.

Perhaps the real monsters weren’t the creatures in the mural at all.

My body seemed to vibrate with terrible guilt.

Perhaps I was just as much a monster as Keres, because I hadn’t given a single thought to what he was giving, to how he felt. To who he truly was.

The atmosphere in the hall shifted. Shadows gathered along the wall, but I was still trapped staring at the mural, my breaths fast and shallow.

I finally pried my eyes away and turned in time to see Keres step from his shadows, his presence instantly calming.

I hadn’t expected the exhaustion that clung to his frame, weighing his usually confident shoulders down.

“Are you okay?” I asked, cupping the curve of his jaw in hand .

He closed his eyes as he smiled sweetly, leaning into my palm. “I’ll be fine.” The momentary happiness slipped from his lips, and he stepped closer, taking my hands in his and pressing his forehead to mine. “I couldn’t imbue your portrait.”

“What does that mean?”

He didn’t say anything, and I couldn’t torture him with more questions he couldn’t answer.

“It’s time for dinner,” he said.

I pulled away, eyes welling with tears as I glared up at him, frustrated that his voice was so calm when my heart was breaking into a million pieces. I wondered if my sorrow tasted as bitter to him as it did to me.