Page 19 of Shaedes of Power (Soul Magic #1)

CHAPTER 19

E dmyn had pushed past us in the throne room, refusing to look at me as he stormed out the doors. Glory and I exchanged puzzled looks.

“What do you think is wrong with him?” asked Glory as we turned to leave as well.

“Oh, I don’t know, the end of peace?” I said sarcastically. “Heavy is the crown of the brother of a narcissistic psychopath.”

Glory smiled glumly. “It was a little satisfying to see Ciaran so run down. If Edmyn does have a plan, now would be a good time to strike.”

“I agree,” I said, wondering if that was what was bothering Edmyn—perhaps the pressure of time was upon him.

“Let’s have dinner sent to the room,” suggested Glory. “I don’t want to risk running into Ciaran again. Even in his fatigued state, he still gives me the absolute creeps.” I nodded and we headed back to the room.

The servants brought a nice tray with enough food to leave us both full and tired. Hanging around the castle for days now and not having much stimulation other than conversations between each other seemed to bring on lots of different kinds of fatigue. Fatigue with our circumstances, fatigue from worrying about things we had no control over, the fatigue that naturally came from an endless night.

Glory and I had been given fresh white linen night dresses, which were still short-sleeved but didn’t cling to the body, and were much warmer than the other nightgowns we had been wearing. We lay flat on our backs, looking up at the dark canopy of drapery above us, trying to imagine a clear night sky, a cool spring breeze across our warm skin and the symphonic sounds of nightlife lulling us into slumber.

Glory’s breathing told me she had succumbed. I, however, continued to stare above me at things that weren’t there: my parent’s smiling faces, Leyanna pushing Lennyx around, Dru armed with her knives, Farris and his half-smile across the counter of a coffee shop. Then I imagined all the people I loved dead, their bodies strewn across the yellow meadow of the Gaylenswood like fallen trees that were battered and snapped apart after a lightning storm. So powerful yet so fragile against something that even the Balance’s magic couldn’t reach.

I sat up quickly once I heard the door creak open. I didn’t know how long I had been lying there, envisioning the bleakest of futures—hours felt like days that night. Edmyn, wearing a long black satin robe, flopped down on the dressing room chaise and stretched out. His hair was slightly damp, and his eyes, too, held fatigue. He looked at me across the room staring at him and asked, “What are you still doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said. I moved so my head lay on my hands on my side like a child. “Where have you been these past few days?” I asked quietly.

“Most of the time I was out in the Shadowlands, wandering around and being of no help to Ciaran. But the other part of the time I was busy tending to those damned berries.” He sounded very irritable. “They are not ready. They need at least another day, maybe two.”

“And Ciaran is ready to act now, isn’t he?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Ciaran needed some time to recuperate both physically and magically after his prolonged struggles with the shadow beasts, but he is adamant about me walking in the sun tomorrow morning. Before breakfast, before anything else. I had always thought I would get a chance to slip him the berries before that happened, but there is no way of accomplishing that now. Not without setting off his hyper sense of paranoia, and then there will be no way of getting close to him. He is already certain someone is to blame for the shadow beast fiasco. That meeting with the dark lords earlier was less of a meeting and more of an interrogation tribunal.” He moved a few rogue curls out of his face. “This is the first time I feel as if perhaps I am not an equal match for my brother. Fate favors him. That spell failed sooner than I anticipated. He will see tomorrow morning that I have defied him, and he will take up his cause against the Shaede faeries with betrayal sowing fresh rage in his heart, and I will not be able to stop him.”

Edmyn closed his eyes, perhaps willing sleep to come, as I had also tried before his return. It wasn’t like him to sound defeated. And it worried me that if he had underestimated the duration of his spell on the shadow beast pens, how could he be so certain the berries were or weren’t ready or would even work at all?

I watched him lie there motionless, hating the fact that I had missed him. There was still so much that I wished to learn about him. Amidst all the hell that would rain down upon us, facing the inescapable difficulties that stood in our way, I wondered if there was a realm in the universe where we would be allowed to exist together. Not Dark and Shaede, not cursed and blessed, but just man and woman on common ground.

Perhaps it was the impending doom or the insomnia, or maybe the part of me that could relate to Sandrell—the part of her that chose action instead of sitting back and watching a man die alone on a beach—but I became suddenly very aware of how much Edmyn needed me. I couldn’t stop a war or help the enchantments on his strawberries. I couldn’t even donate magic to his cause, even though I had just then decided that I wanted to. He had protected us from the very beginning and stood to lose everything in the morning. We all seemed willing to accept defeat at this point, but it just couldn’t be the end.

I pulled back the covers and got up, careful not to wake Glory. My feet on the cold stone floor silently carried me to where Edmyn lay. Whether he was asleep or awake, I couldn’t be sure. The robe he wore was so dark, it melted his body away and made him almost one with the night. But I could make out his face in what was left of the firelight, still and unmoving but not quite relaxed. I had seen him relaxed once before, sitting in the mud on a dim hill, looking over the only nature this realm had to offer. Even for a creature from the Shadowlands, he was still a man who deserved happiness. He didn’t choose this fate any more than I could choose to feel this way about him. Was it love? I couldn’t be completely certain. I knew I had come to love his tortured parts, the broken parts, the parts that saw the beauty in all things. The parts that seemed to want to save me even from myself, and the parts whose sense of honor and integrity kept him from giving into temptation. I stood there, in the middle of my uncertainty, wanting to give him everything, wanting to make him smile. The only thing that scared me about Edmyn anymore was the thought of not being able to be near him.

As soon as I admitted all this to myself, whatever kind of magic that lived within me threatened to rupture its prison. With little hesitation, I slowly climbed on top of Edmyn, straddling his waist, and allowed desire to rule me. His eyes fluttered open, and he registered me sitting there looking at him expectantly and ushered my face closer to his with his hand on the back of my neck.

“What is this, Little Prism?” he whispered, our faces so close that I could feel his breath on my lips. “Do not start fires you cannot tame.”

“You once said that I belonged to you,” I whispered back, my voice a little surer sounding than I think either of us expected. “Prove it.”

Both our magics liked the sound of that. Whatever barrier was set in place, keeping me from it, shattered into shards of pleasure and pain as he pressed his lips to mine.

If kissing him was the spark that started everything in motion, our hands were what kindled the flame. Mine went raking through his hair, something I’d maybe always wanted to do. His found their way slowly down my back and then back up again, stopping to massage my breasts and then finding their way back to my face. Even though touching him now was like being on fire, my body started shivering—the result of energy trapped with nowhere to go, or just the visible plea of my body begging for what only Edmyn could give.

“Do you know what you are doing?” he asked quietly, the gold flecks glowing in his eyes. I could have sat there and watched them shine forever. He had become dauntingly hard beneath me, distracting me from finding my words. “You do not need to be a hero. I will do my best to protect you, no matter the cost.”

It pained me to think that he thought this was some sort of sacrifice on my part. That my affections were fueled only by a desire to keep us safe. Even with my straddling his manhood and holding on to his hair like it was some sort of lifeline, he was capable of courtesy and kindness. But I didn’t want him concerned about the outcomes—I wanted him in me. And if our mating happened to break his curse in the end, I didn’t need it to justify the means, even though it would. Like Sandrell—no fucking regrets.

“I’m no hero, Edmyn. I’m just yours. I’ve come to know you, and now I can’t imagine a world without you.” I felt him shift underneath me. He ran one of his hands through my hair—something perhaps he had always wanted to do. I could tell he was getting revved up but wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“You think you know me now, but you didn’t know me then. And then was a very, very long time ago.” With a face that held only dark promises and wicked thoughts, he rubbed a long nail along my bottom lip so slowly that I felt the nightgown bunched between my legs become saturated with want. “There is more to the darkness than cursed magic and shadow beasts.” He took the finger from my lip and ran it along his own, making a point to skim one of his sharp incisors, causing blood to instantly swell from the cut. He smeared the blood along my jawline and down the side of my neck, then lifted his head up to lick it. I felt his body writhe in a moment of pain, but his erection was so stimulated that it was practically throbbing now. “The dark ones have managed to find the thinnest line between pleasure and pain. But I don’t want to scare you, Little Prism. You, whom I have already silently pledged a thousand of my lifetimes to protect. You, who deserve so much more than making love to a shadow. ”

Without really thinking, I grabbed his wounded finger and put it to my lips. When I licked the blood off, I tasted acid, but I refused to flinch. I watched his eyelids flutter in near ecstasy. My throat burned as the metallic taste traveled down my throat, but it was only there for an instant as Edmyn’s magic chased away its sting. Having his blood in my system, even for a short while, was dangerous. But it proved just how much I trusted him. Then the hand that was still resting on my neck quickly grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled, hard. My head went back. I stifled a scream so I wouldn’t risk waking up Glory. My heart quickened, and my magic stalked my insides like a cat in heat. “I am not afraid of you,” I said with fortitude.

He released my hair so I could look at him. He was smiling dreamily and shaking his head in amazement. He flicked a few fingers, and the curtains closed around us. It was suddenly a very intimate scene. There were only a few candles glowing in the corner, and although the chaise lounge was tufted and plush, it was not really meant for two.

“What about Glory?” I whispered.

Edmyn smiled, his sharp teeth shining in the candlelight. “Sleep spell.”

Feeling like if there was ever a perfect private moment to be had with Edmyn, that we had somehow managed to find it, I pulled the nightgown off over my head and let my opalescent hair fall wild all around my naked body. I undid the belt of Edmyn’s robe, and it quickly gaped open, exposing his alabaster chest. Edmyn, eyes full of mischief and hunger, in one swift, aggressive motion, was suddenly on top of me. He had managed to flip me over and pin my body to the bench without me even seeing it happen. It was surely magic, but it still stunned. My eyes went wide. He reveled in my surprise, clearly aroused by how easily I was overtaken. He kneed my legs so they fell off the edge of either side of the bench, and then knelt in front of me while he allowed the rest of the silk robe to fall to the floor. His body was so sculpted that he looked like a statue of white marble that was too inhumanly beautiful not to be art and too valuable to be touched. And yet, touch we did .

He hovered above me, teasing every last nerve I had with kisses that ranged from sweet and tender to rough, aggravated caresses that caused me to moan and beg for more. He then grabbed my wrists with one hand and spelled them to remain restrained against the only arm of the lounge chair while he took one of his pointed nails and, without breaking skin, drew lines down my body from my collar bone, up and over my nipples, down toward my navel, and always stopping just before he touched the place where all my need for him was accumulating.

It didn’t seem fair that he could use magic and I couldn’t, but the spell withered away as soon as I kicked my legs up and wrapped them around him, forcing him closer to me. “You are not ready yet, Little Prism. Do not invite a devil in without getting something in return.” He unhooked my legs and put them gently to either side again. I started to try to sit up, but he was so magically quick again, suddenly kneeling on the floor at the other end of the bench with his hands on my hips. He yanked me toward him, causing my head to slide back down and rest again on the cushion, while he delicately started kissing the private parts of me that wanted him the most.

I felt the line. The dark ones have managed to find the thinnest line between pleasure and pain , he had said. He massaged, he licked, and he seemed like he knew how to make a mess of me, but every time my legs started to shake and my breathing quickened, it was like a red flag to Edmyn. He would pause his diligent oral attention to nibble at my inner thigh or cup his hands under my bum and squeeze, anything and everything except the thing I really, really wanted.

My magic became background noise, a loud buzzing in my ear that was like static on a radio trying to come into tune. The more Edmyn touched me, loved me, and teased me, the clearer that magic came into focus. The more it understood that it was Edmyn who pleased me and it was Edmyn who we adored, the stronger the magic became.

“I can’t,” I said, grasping for his head as I writhed with delayed pleasure. “Please,” I begged as my magic eagerly sent shockwaves throughout my body.

His magic scooted me back on the bench, which was welcome as my legs had become so weak I didn’t think I’d have the strength to have moved on my own. He also came to straddle the bench, looking down on me like easy prey, a small smile on his lips. He took one of my hands and placed it on his long hard shaft.

“Is this what you want?” he asked mockingly, but the way his muscles began twitching I knew it was what he wanted too.

“Yes,” I said softly, any fight left in me had gone. Any hard edges had been worn down. I truly felt like his property now. He could have done anything to me in that moment, and I would have allowed it and then thanked him for it later.

Thankfully, he was done with having enough patience for the both of us. He used the side arm of the chaise to steady himself as he slowly entered me. But that was the last bit of control he had left. His eyes became murky golden pools as he thrust himself in and out, oblivious to the spell that had already begun. I found the strength to tear at him with my nails, to cling to him as he rode us both near the edge. His breathing became that of a creature, a beast whose hunger might be endless by the countless lunges he took into the depths of my body. I called out his name in between yips of pain or ecstasy—it was no longer clear. And when I finally fell over the edge and he felt me cling to him in the only way that could subdue the fire we started, I brought him with me, and he came with such ferocity that he had me calling out his name again and again.

The ground had been shaking, but I hardly noticed. I don’t think I could have noticed a tornado ripping the roof off at this point. What I did notice was the satiated feeling of my body and the comforting weight of Edmyn’s head on my shoulder. There was also an odd feeling in my soul, where my magic had definitely touched it. It was not a bad feeling. In some ways, it even felt right, as if something had mended itself. But it was different. I felt different. And when I opened my eyes, I noticed that Edmyn and I looked different. Both our bodies had shimmery halos surrounding them that wafted in and out of focus in the shadowy room.

“How do you feel, my prince?” I asked, twirling a few strands of his black hair around my finger .

With some effort, he found my other hand and pressed his palm against mine. He lifted them up near his face, and when he pulled his hand slowly away, the glowing halo of light that enclosed us both had fused together when we touched. As he pulled away, there was a visible thread of light that bound us together. There wasn’t any real tension—it was just between the magic. It was beautiful and fleeting, for in a few seconds, it faded away into darkness.

“I feel as if it is I who now belongs to you,” he said. I could feel his smile against my skin. “Somehow, you’ve helped me remember how it felt to be alive. And for that, I am forever yours.” He grabbed my hand quickly and kissed it. “How do you feel, Little Prism?”

“Like I need this night to never end.” I was trying not to let sadness sneak in and pollute these serene waters we’d created, but reality was only ever on the other side of a door. And it would come knocking soon enough.

He pushed his body up so he could see my face, but in the exact opposite of the smooth and precise movements that got us into this position, Edmyn’s hand slipped off the chaise lounge, and both of us were suddenly on the floor, laughing in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Well that was unintended.” He leaned in to kiss me as I laughed against his lips.

“Unfortunately, gravity is a fickle mistress,” I giggled.

“Indeed.” He grunted a little as he slid around the side of me and got up. He disappeared behind the curtains and then came back with one of the enormous fur blankets from the bed. I sat up, and he draped it around me, then came to sit next to me, huddled close under the heavy coverlet.

“So now that I have become intimately acquainted with every inch of you, are you going to tell me about the tattoos? Rather naughty for a Shaede of any color, isn’t it? I thought inking one’s skin was a major affront to the rules of dignity and decorum the ancients decreed. Or have things eased up a bit since then?” He kissed the Perryflower on my shoulder and looked at me like an explorer who had reached the peak of his quest, only to discover there was so much more world left to discover .

“The flower on my shoulder is just something I love. It always reminds me of home. And I wanted to tattoo something on myself that was large and very distracting.”

“Wait.” He leaned in to really examine it. “You did this on your own?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “It was kind of like, if people were going to stare at me, I wanted to give them something to stare at. Or something like that. I was young and insecure, I loved art, and I loved having control over my appearance. Maybe I also loved the idea of creating something permanent. The nature of the Balance was that everything was in a constant state of change, but sometimes there was more comfort in the permanence.”

“So this was your way of telling the High Shaedes to fuck off.” He grinned, running his hand over my delicate linework. “I’m impressed.” His hand traveled down my chest and further south until it rested on my inner left thigh. “And what of the two I noticed here.”

A fresh blush bloomed on my cheeks and I couldn’t help tremoring at his touch. Of course he would have noticed those; he had just spent an hour in that region and probably had the landscape memorized.

“ Those are my secrets,” I said, giving him a coy side eye. “But I suppose there aren’t many of those left between us anymore.” He shook his head and waited patiently for an explanation. “Fine,” I said with a resigned sigh. “The outline of the tiny mountains and the setting sun—that’s Corynthia. Even though faeries are forbidden from going there, it’s still a place I’d love to see. And the second is the collection of stars humans call Cassiopeia. I recognize it easily when I see it in the sky, and I guess I just like the thought of a beautiful queen sitting high in the sky watching over us. The stars may burn out, but until then, they are very faithful guardians.”

Edmyn’s fingers traced the markings from memory on my skin, causing shivers to come in ripples. “Ironic that you chose a woman who boasted that she and her daughter, Andromeda’s beauty, was superior to that of the Nereid Nymphs of Thetis.”

“And why is that, because I have Nymph magic too?”

“No.” He leaned in to kiss me. “Because your beauty surpasses them all.” He kissed my lips and then my eyelids, the softest of touches. “So what will be next? A handsome shadow beast with fangs and golden-colored eyes?”

I pushed him away lightheartedly. “No. Perhaps never anymore tattoos for me. I started tattooing my friends at court and so the High Shaedes got rid of all the inkspires in our realm in an effort to squash my artistic insolence.”

Edmyn brought up his closed fist in front of my face, and when he opened it, a shiny metallic inkspire hovered slowly in his palm.

“An inkspire like this?” he asked mischievously, like a magician revealing the rabbit hiding in his hat. I clapped my hands with the untainted joy of a little girl.

“I can’t believe you can do that! I’ve tried for years to locate one in the realm, but they’ve been spelled as contraband.” I took the tiny object from his hand. It resembled an ornate thimble with a sharp point that looked like it could be a distant cousin of a fountain pen. I knew it ran on its own magic, but was useless without an artist to drive it. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed the feeling of untapped creativity. But now on my delicate index finger, my mind craved to put ink to skin.

“Do me,” Edmyn said, letting the blanket fall off his shoulders. “Ink me with something that you think would suit me. I leave the subject entirely up to you.” He stretched his body out across my lap, the perfect specimen, ass up, and I searched my mind for something meaningful to mark him with. It couldn’t be cliché or overly sentimental, but I wanted it to be something to memorialize what we had found in each other. Staring at his perfectly curved buttocks was distracting, but the idea came to me anyway.

“You know, this will hurt,” I warned. I flashed back to when I had tattooed a tiny diamond on fire under Leyanna’s rib, and she had cried like a baby. At that point, I hadn’t even thought she was capable of producing tears.

“I hope that’s a promise,” he said in that voice that made everything below my waist warm and heavy.

Feeling inspired, I made contact with his skin and heard the inkspire sizzle. In the human realm, I knew the ink guns they used were like a tiny needle injecting bits of ink into the skin. This was creating something between a burn and a cut, but because faeries heal so fast, the mutilation was followed by a clean, dark line.

My design was ambitious, and I had only seen my inspiration once, but once was going to have to be enough. The placement was going to be just below his hip, with the image wrapping around the side. I smiled with the wishful thought that I could be one of the only people who would ever see it. I started with the outline first, and then carefully added depth with shading and created some contrast by leaving some negative space against some of the darker parts. I worked for over two hours, as Edmyn and I covered many lighter topics of conversation that the universe hadn’t really allowed us to discuss yet. I learned he was an avid archer and didn’t like the texture of tomatoes in any realm, despite being an expert at growing them. I talked at length about Dru and Leyanna and disclosed my love for chocolate and vacationing in Pellshaeven.

When the tattoo was almost done, I knew blacks and grays would never be enough. So I asked Edmyn for a vibrant blue, and I felt his magic swirl around the inkspire. I added the color, hearing him sigh as the point of the inkspire dug into skin that had just been healed. The added color gave me confidence, and I slapped his bottom to signal that the artwork was finished.

“The next time you promise pain, Little Prism, you better deliver,” he purred darkly as he pushed himself back up and sat back on his knees. I blushed anew, with the heat hitting my cheeks like someone had just slapped me in the face. His chiseled abdomen rippled as he turned his core to examine my work. “It’s a Moonflower,” he said, recognizing it immediately. He ran his fingers over the dark petals and veined leaves.

“A what?” I asked. “I didn’t even know it had a name. I saw it almost glowing among the dying clovers on the throne room floor and was struck by its unique and haunting quality. Please don’t tell me they have some sort of morbid meaning. I chose it because of its allure. I think they are one of the most hauntingly beautiful things in this land. ”

Edmyn looked at me with an almost sympathetic look in his eyes. “You would find the one plant in the entire realm that holds bold color. The Moonflower is an inexplicable occurrence in the Shadowlands. We think instead of sunlight, it might actually feed on moonlight. Some say it is an indicator that the Balance has not forsaken us forever; that it still wants us to remember that beautiful things can grow in the darkness and that we can adapt and grow into something good. We spell the floors with Moonflowers when we want to bless someone with good fortune. As if to remind them of the goodness that lay dormant here, within the shadows.”

“Well, then I nailed this, because you are the good that resides here, Edmyn. And now, every time you look at this, you will think of that.”

“I will think of you,” he said adoringly. And then he pulled me on top of him and took us both into a realm that was entirely our own—one that had me once again calling out his name.