Page 5

BARON

Mercenary Stronghold

“What the hell do you mean, Cambion is the one who erased Eilish’s memories and got her addicted to the Atacomite?” I demand as I realize the fucker failed to fill me in on this juicy morsel.

My head is spinning and I can barely feel the ground beneath my feet.

Just when I’d started to let go of the past and give Cambion the benefit of the doubt, this shit happens?

I want to pound my fists into his face until he wishes he was back in the hands of the Unseelie. My eyes snap over to Eilish.

Her gaze is sad, but her posture is relaxed. “Did you know this?” I ask her.

“She knows,” Dragan explains as Eilish nods. “Kolvar, too.”

“If she knows, then why isn’t she demanding Cambion’s blood? I’d want the fucker’s head on a platter!”

“Baron, please calm down,” Eilish says but I can’t calm down. And I can’t, for the fucking unlife of me, figure out why she isn’t irate!

“Luckily for Cambion, Eilish isn’t you,” Dragan says darkly and I wonder what the fuck is wrong with him. We don’t like each other on the best of days but the way he’s acting now—something is going on with him. He’s acting more prick-like than usual.

“You can’t think this is okay?” I insist as I face him.

He frowns at me. “Of course I don’t think it’s fucking okay.”

“Then why aren’t you freaking out about it?”

“What good would that do?” he responds with a shrug. “I’ve decided to let Eilish handle it the way she sees fit. And whatever she decides, is fine by me.”

I study him with narrow eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with the former King of all Assholes?”

Dragan chuckles as I frown at him and start pacing, trying to rein in my anger before I do something stupid like kill the one guy Eilish needs to feed her lightness.

Well, she could feed from Variant, if such were an option.

From where I stand, neither option is looking good right now.

I don’t know whether she just has bad luck with men or if the universe is trying to piss me off but, regardless, I’m good and pissed.

“You can feel the way you want to but Cambion’s going to need to perform some miracle of redemption for me to trust his sorry ass again,” I growl.

“Can I speak to you alone for a minute?” Dragan asks as he starts for a clearing maybe twenty feet from the barrage of tents. I follow him and once I’m in hearing distance, he starts in.

“You need to drop this whole Cambion shit,” he says.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand. “He fucking stole her memories and got her addicted to Atacomite!”

“I’m fully aware, Baron.”

“Okay, then what the fuck am I missing here?”

“It’s none of our damn business, that’s what you’re missing! This is between the two of them—Cambion and Eilish. It doesn’t concern us.”

I get right up into Dragan’s face. “You really believe that bullshit? Eilish is ours. You and I both know it. It’s written in the stars, according to Pyre and the Midnight Queen.”

“Yes, but you and I aren’t the only ones who have claim to her, or she wouldn’t be over there talking to Cambion.” He points out the two of them and I stop fuming to watch them for a few seconds.

“She needs Cambion as much as she needs us,” Dragan says. “Without him…”

“I’m aware of what the fuck happens to her without him. The darkness takes over.”

“Right.”

I tug at the strands of my hair. “I just don’t understand how she can…” I start.

“How she can what?” Dragan demands.

“I was furious when I found out Morrigan erased my memories, but Eilish... she’s acting like it doesn’t matter to her that Cambion stole hers.”

Dragan shrugs. “I guess she figures it doesn’t matter now.”

“Doesn’t matter?” I repeat, in shock.

His eyebrows reach for the sky. “What’s done is done. It’s in the past. No use in dwelling on something Eilish can never change.” He takes a breath. “And onto another subject,” he starts.

I look over at him. “There’s more?”

He glares at me. “I know about what happened between you, Pyre and Eilish.”

Surprise echoes through me but I try not to show it. “So what?”

“So we all have claim to her as we mentioned before.”

“And?”

“And I think we need to sit down and figure out what the fuck this looks like moving forward.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never had to share a woman before and I’m fairly sure you haven’t either.” He takes a breath. “Not to mention the fact that we all hate each other.”

I glance at Cambion. “Some more than others.”

“That’s all I have to say.” He starts to walk away but then turns around again. “And before you and Pyre go off to fuck her again, I’d appreciate a heads up.”

“Fuck you!” I respond, anger seeping through me. “I don’t fucking owe you anything.”

“Then you won’t care if I take her with Myerdoth or maybe Kolvar or fucking Cambion for that matter?”

“As long as Eilish wants it, I don’t care who you fuck her with.” That’s a lie but I’m not going to tell him as much. Dragan can go fucking die and rot in hell for all I care.

I walk away from the gargoyle to find Aima sitting on top of the wall not far from the line of tents. I jump up to join her.

“I never thought anything was beautiful about the mortal realm, but the stars are lovely here,” she says. “Oronrel used to have the most breathtaking skies, but now it seems like the stars are hiding beneath a thick fog of deceit.”

“May I?” I ask, motioning to the bandages on her side. She nods and I peel them back. Pyre is right—the magic here is different, sluggish and thin, but I use one of my potions to apply a poultice to her wounds. “That should speed up the healing. You’re strong; you’ll bounce back in no time.”

She nods and we both grow silent, watching the stars and the mercenaries below as they bustle about their business.

“Are vampires usually this quiet?” she asks.

“I’m just trying to figure Cambion out,” I answer with a shrug. “And that’s taking up most of my thoughts because I’m so damn confused.”

“Confused about what?”

“Eilish trusts him and the others insist Cambion isn’t our enemy, but he’s made no effort to prove me wrong in my assumptions. And to know he wiped Eilish’s memories?”

Aima shakes her head. “Cambion isn’t who you think he is, Baron. I’ve known him for a long time, but if I thought for a second that he was a threat to our cause, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill him myself. He screwed up in a lot of ways, yes and some bigger than others, but we all have.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“Then maybe you should start listening?”

I snort a little and we watch the clouds obscure the moon. My senses are heightened at night and I smell other vampires within these walls, vampires I have no intention of ever meeting.

“Baron!” Kolvar calls. “Come meet the other clan leaders.”

Aima gives me a look filled with amusement as I leap from the wall, landing on my feet in front of the satyr.

He raises a brow, but says nothing. We walk to the gate, where a collective of males stand looking mildly constipated.

One of them is a vampire. He watches me as though there’s some unspoken truce between us.

There’s no such thing. I trust vampires about as much as I trust elves, and that isn’t much at the moment.

“Baron, King of Death, these are the clan leaders.”

Each of them bows his head in a sign of respect, but I don’t return the gesture.

Kolvar clears his throat before continuing.

“Hemoteph of the Olveroth, Belroth of the Adamante, Imatriat of the Thradsaryl, Prince Novak of the Sunder’s Might, and Draken of the Mournblades.

” He looks from them to me. “You will need to get to know them, for Lady Fulthain has named you one of her ambassadors and a representative of The Vindication.”

Lady Fulthain? It takes me a second to figure out the satyr is talking about Eilish.

Once that surprise registers, I face the next one: Eilish wants me to be a diplomat?

I resist the urge to laugh, but just barely.

Luckily, Flumph is close enough to hear our conversation.

The sprite nearly faints from his fit of giggles, until I peel him off the floor and hand him over to Kolvar.

“Don’t think I’m obligated to show you respect just because we’re allies in this fight,” I say. “My respect is something that must be earned.”

***

EILISH

Mercenary Stronghold

I sit beside Aima as a mage tends to her injuries. She’s been through a lot—possibly more than any of us could ever fathom—but she holds strong and I admire her for it. Someone like Aima should be in my place, leading a rebellion and shaping the fate of the world.

“How do you do it?” I ask.

She turns to face me. “Do what?”

“How do you hold on to so much pain and show nothing but courage?”

“I wasn’t always brave, Eilish.” Aima turns her head and plucks at a loose thread on the sheets.

“When my sister was alive, I was meek and obedient. My heart was my biggest weakness, and I failed to see that for so many years. The Unseelie women of noble blood are taught at a young age to cut off our emotions. I was different. I was the only one in my family without magic... and I was happy.”

“What happened to your sister?”

“She and I were close, despite our differences,” Aima sighs.

“But she had a cold brutality to her that I could never duplicate, nor understand. Her magical talent seemed unrivalled in Oronrel. And that was what attracted Morrigan’s attention.

The Midnight Queen knew my sister was powerful, but that she would never submit.

In the end, we were summoned before the king and she was held down, rendered helpless while Morrigan siphoned the magic from her blood. ”

“I’m so sorry, Aima.”

“So am I,” she replies quietly. “Your sister was still young at the time of her death, right?”

I nod and chew my bottom lip. It takes me a while to summon the courage to discuss Solya. We walk past the gates and out onto the flat expansion of land beyond them.

“I need time to think,” I tell her, “and I can't do that with all of them hovering over me all the time.”

Aima doesn't argue. “Their resentment for Cambion will only hinder our mission. We need to find a way to get them to trust him again, or Morrigan will win. A united front is the only way to beat her.”

She’s right, of course. Aima and I may have had our differences in the past, but now I’m glad to consider her a friend.

“I agree. We have to resolve this rift between Cambion and the others.”

“You’re the key to that rift,” Aima says.

I nod. “I was angry with Cambion at first. I still am, but I also understand he had his reasons, such that everyone does. If I can forgive him, I believe everyone should be able to forgive him.”

Aima laughs. “Unfortunately, men are not so simply swayed. And your… friends are among the most stubborn of the stubborn.”

“They will come around. Dragan is already on his way.”

“And Baron?”

“Will take some more convincing,” I finish for her with a smile.

“I’m glad you don’t hate Cambion,” she says softly. “I’m glad you can recognize he isn’t the same man he used to be.”

We reach a large plateau, and it seems as though the sky is much bigger here than it is beyond the walls. Just barren wasteland and stars for miles and miles.

“Cambion and I haven’t spent much time together since his arrival, but I can see the changes in him.”

“Actually, he isn’t so different,” Aima replies with a shrug.

“Not really. He’s just returning to the Cambion I knew as a child —the real Cambion.

The great battle turned him into a bitter king who was overcome with anger, but I always wondered if the real Cambion was still hiding in there somewhere. ”

After a few minutes, we begin our walk back to the stronghold.

The streets of the city within the walls are quiet at night.

Even the guards who patrol the area do so silently.

Aima and I head to her tent, where she removes her tattered clothing.

I give her a folded pile of new clothing.

The tunic of which bears the symbol of our rebellion on the back.

When I turn to leave, Aima stops me. “I need your help with something, Eilish.”

“Anything.”

She hands me a pair of scissors and holds her long, black hair out for me to cut. “You want me to cut it?” I ask, frowning.

She nods. “For my people, the length of one’s hair is a sign of loyalty to the crown. If my king is no longer on the throne, then I want it cut.”

She shifts slightly, as if uncomfortable in this vulnerable moment. I do as she asks and cut until she tells me to stop. When I’m finished, her hair is short, barely more than a finger’s length all the way around.

Though it’s short, it suits her.