Page 32

Aldronn

I relive every memory May uncovers, the thoughts and feelings as vivid as the first time I experienced them.

Goddess, I’d forgotten that specific day with Wranth! I had no idea we were related back then, but I still despised the way the other younglings bullied him for being an orphan. I made a point after that to use all my spare time between lessons to show him how to fight. He was such a quick study, taking everything I taught him and practicing endlessly. By the time he hit sixteen, his skill with a sword far surpassed mine and that of most of my mother’s adult guards.

The camping trip with my parents is a joy to relive. How proud I felt to complete my first successful hunt! My mother showed me everything, from how to track game to how to trap it. We’d gone on several trips by this point, but this was the first time she let me take the lead. And the pride on my father’s face! I still remember how that squirrel tasted fresh from the fire, perfectly seasoned by him. It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, flavored as much by their love and pride as by salt and herbs.

Other memories aren’t as pleasant to revisit, and I wince every time my bride comes upon one I wish she didn’t know about. Times when I failed to control my temper or fully appreciate my duties. Times with other women.

Can May tell I’ve never been in love? Never even been close?

She watches me battle ogres to save a village and then to save Starfall. She’s there when I see my first human and wish for a moon bound bride. May watches me face the shadow fae and lose him through the door to Avalon.

Her ability is amazing, all of this done after one small suggestion from an ancient parchment.

Then she brushes against the memory that holds my greatest worry, the private one I keep tucked close to my heart.

“No, May!” I yell. “Don’t.”

She doesn’t listen. Or rather, she listens and then does the opposite, as strong-willed as ever.

My bride steps right into the memory I least want her to see, the one where I worry I’m incapable of love.

The one where I worry I might never love her.

Her pained gasp pierces my heart. The shock of realizing she’s chained to an unfeeling man like me yanks her from my mind. Our telepathic bond shatters.

I’m thrown back into my body, sitting in the meadow, holding my moon bound bride’s hand for what might be the last time she lets me touch her.

Tears trickle down May’s face, and the sight of them pains my soul. Fuck. I never meant to hurt her like this.

I squeeze her hand, my throat so tight all I manage is a hoarse, “May. I’m sorry. I know you deserve better. You deserve someone who can love you.”

“No, nuh-uh, nope.” Her eyes flash fire, and she jumps to her feet and points at me. “I’ve heard enough from you already.”

Goddess, she’s gorgeous when she’s mad.

I stand as well, pacing after her, only to come to a dead stop when she whirls to face me again.

“How the hell have you convinced yourself that you’re incapable of love?” She throws her arms wide. “I mean, really. What. The. Fucking. Hell?”

“You were in my mind. If anyone knows the truth of me, it’s you. You saw the memories.”

“Exactly.” She steps close, poking a finger to my chest to emphasize certain words. “I saw exactly who you are. King Aldronn of Elmswood Keep, ruler of all the orcs in Alarria.”

I grimace.

“You’re the person who stepped in to help a bullied little boy; the guy who loves his parents so much it makes my heart ache; the teenager who ignored all the fun things he’d rather be doing so as not to hurt his people’s feelings; the man who fights for his people and his friends.”

She pauses, her hand drifting up to cup my cheek. “Don’t you see? You’re nothing but love. You were made to take on a heavy burden from a very young age, and your love for your parents, your friends, and your people has kept all your emotional energy so tied up that you can’t even see what drives you to do it all.”

Shock roots me in place. Can my generous bride really see me like this? “It’s my duty.”

“You’ve made it so much more than that. You’ve made your care for them define all of who you are.” She gives a huff of amusement. “Thank god, you’ve got me now, because I know how to be the right kind of selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” I growl. “Here you are on a dangerous quest to aid people you barely know.”

“Okay, maybe selfish isn’t the exact word. How about this—I know how to do self-care. And you need to do a hell of a lot more of it. I think we’ll start by setting some time boundaries. Carve out a little ‘me time’ for you.”

I’m amazed at how she sees me. What if she’s right and I’ve hidden too much of myself under the burdens of my title? What if I can love? Hope flickers in my chest.

“Just to be clear. You’re not leaving me?”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Good,” I growl. My fingers curl in her hair, and I slip a hand under her cloak to pull her closer. “Because I was about to practice being selfish and demand you stay.”

“Oh, yeah?” She grins up at me. “What else were you going to demand? Something with me on my knees, perhaps?”

“Fuck, May.”

“Yep.” She nods. “That’s the idea.”

I lean over to—

“Hey, lovebirds!” Naomi’s voice calls out. “You’re the last ones here.”

We wheel around to face camp, which is gone, nothing left but a dead fire and faint depressions in the grass where the tents stood overnight. The sun hangs low in the western sky, sending long rays over the tundra waiting to the north.

“Um, how long were we in your mind castle?” May asks.

“All day, it appears.”

“Going to have to work on being faster at that.”

“Come on!” Naomi strides toward us, holding out a hand. “We took all your stuff already.”

May takes it, and they blink away.

In a few more moments, Naomi returns and teleports me to the new site.

Tundra spreads to the horizon, but ice creeps across the ground, choking the vegetation down to the occasional tufts of grass and clumps of moss and lichen. At my back, a massive block of ice juts into the orange-streaked sky like an iceberg dropped on land. A freezing wind whips my hair back from my face. Although the cold is unpleasant, it’s bearable, but I don’t like the way May shivers, clutching her fur cloak closed in the front.

“There are caves.” Naomi points to a series of openings in the ice cliff. The golden light of glow stones shines from within several of them. There’s a large cook fire already set up outside. Naomi teleported logs to sit on and to chop up for fires, and my guards are already working on food. “They’re ice caves, but they’re out of the wind. It was the best we could find.”

“This is great, Naomi. Really,” May says. “Even better, I figured out how to use my magic!”

“You did!” Naomi throws her arms around May and they start talking in excited whispers.

Wranth stalks up, his fur cloak swirling around his long legs. “The unicorns have spread out to make sure each of them gets enough food, Shadow and Rune led a party to the closest ice flow for water, and the dragons both took off to do some aerial reconnaissance.”

I frown. Part of having such a large party is safety in numbers. Yet the greater the group of people, the more time you have to spend providing for them.

I don’t like our numbers at camp being so low. This is when we’re at our most vulnerable each day.

My magic coils tight in my gut, twanging with warning. “Where’s the door crystal?” I spin, searching desperately.

Just in time to see the dark fae step through the door into Alarria.