Page 9

Chapter five

S oft clouds swallowed me whole, making it hard to open my eyes at the absolute comfort.

The dulcet sound of birds chirping was accompanied by the soothing smell of lavender.

All of it entrapped my senses in a state of calm.

My eyes fluttered open, proving difficult at first as the bright sunlight burned them.

After a few more tries, I was able to see that I was lying in a large canopy bed amidst a pale purple room with intricate crown moldings.

It was bigger than the entire cottage combined.

The light poured in from the gold-framed, floor-to-ceiling windows and doors that led to what I assumed was a balcony.

Visions of the most recent events had me gently reaching for my shoulder that shouldn’t be there but was. It ached, along with my side, but was completely in one piece. And other than the soreness in those areas, my body felt fine.

Am I dead? I asked myself. If I were, and this was Arivyre, I would think there would be more.

. . just more. And it certainly didn’t look like what I pictured Ikinor to be.

This place seemed too beautiful for the land marked with the horrors and screams that feed the beasts who roamed there. Unless it was all a ruse.

Confusion clouded me, forcing me to sit up.

My trunk and Airmathair immediately came into view along the wall opposite to the bed.

I felt a sigh of relief rush out of my lungs at seeing the two most valuable things to me in pristine condition.

Climbing out of the mammoth bed, I walked over to them, grazing my fingers over the crest of the old wooden box before settling atop the blue stone in the pommel of my sword.

A pink silk robe wrapped comfortably around me swayed in the slight breeze from the open gold-framed door and the realization that I had been in only a bra and pants before had my cheeks staining red.

I hesitantly made my way out onto the balcony—confirming it to be the source of the chirping birds and not just something that was in my head. Unless this was all in my head.

My robe billowed in the more aggressive breeze, which revealed a matching shorts and tunic set underneath.

As my eyes became adjusted to the direct sunlight, pops of color filled them.

Reflective glimmers of light bouncing off the crystalline river drew my gaze first. The water flowed through the land of trees in short waterfalls, splitting the largest city I had ever seen.

Brick-shingled rooftops rose higher and higher than the next one as they spread throughout the valley until they reached the mountainsides—their peaks stretching up toward the sky, forming a natural barrier.

A wide Y-shaped detailed bridge connected the city to me in what appeared to be a beautiful and intricately designed castle of white stone laden with purposely placed vines.

Gravel paths leading to gardens and other smaller buildings wove between hedges and stone railings along the grounds.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the sight even if I wanted to—the feeling of being somewhere I could easily call my new home blanketed me.

“Enjoying the view?” a gruff voice said.

I whipped around to find a tall man with pointed ears, like the one from before.

Although this guy had shoulder-length golden-brown hair and amber eyes with a large set of black feathered wings that decorated his back.

Not to mention, the kind of smile that could make you smile in the worst of moods—of which it seemed like he usually kept hidden.

His jawline was shadowed with a thick beard that only added to the mysteriousness of him as his frame dwarfed me the further he got onto the balcony.

“I, uh, was—Where am I?” I asked.

“Iredon, the capital of Drine,” he replied with pride.

Drine. . . I’m alive? I didn’t know whether to feel elated or disappointed. This was all real. A real place, with real people wandering the streets below.

I returned my gaze back to the landscape, which had me replying honestly, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed, as he too admired the view.

Casting a sideways glance at him, my eyes once again caught on his wings.

He must've noticed my stare because in the next moment he blurts, “Oh, right, I’m Loughlan. First Admiral and third in command to the king,” he boasted, muscles flexing in clear view from his sleeveless black tunic.

“But aren’t you. . . a Miascar?” Black wings were an unmistakable characteristic of the ruthless warriors found in Sorith, the smallest kingdom on the content and one of the three that has both fae and humans.

They are predators trained from infancy to be the best in combat and could kill you before you could even recognize what was flying at you.

With history dating back to before the first revolution, when the “Gods” created a small number of them to be soldiers, they were easily the deadliest in Sedonia.

“I was,” he said with a terse tone.

I watched Loughlan visibly trying to release the tension in his shoulders from the question, an aura of strength rolling off him in waves. By the looks of him, it made sense that he was trained by the best. But why was he here?

At the shift in his mood, I changed the subject, “How did I get here?”

A haunting look passed over his face. “When our traveling group found you. . . well, let's say you were in pretty bad shape.” His lips thinned at what I assumed was the memory. “You had the king in a panic. I’d never seen him like that before, but luckily we had one of our healers with us. And while you were being healed and recovering, we brought you here.”

Unsure of what to say to that, I finally settled on, “Thank you, Loughlan.”

“Our pleasure, —” He paused, waiting for me to fill in my name.

“Mira.”

“Mira,” he repeated my name, the gravel in his voice sweeping over the vowels. His grin was almost heart-stopping as he reached out with one of his obscenely large hands for a handshake.

I hesitantly returned the gesture.

We were silent for a few beats until I at last broke the handshake, pointing to the room, “I see you guys got my stuff.”

He walked back into the suite, and I finally noticed the loose cargo pants hanging from his slim hips, adorned with various knives.

Knives that he no doubt knew how to use.

It took me a moment to comprehend that I was staring.

Shaking the thoughts of what he did with those knives from my head, I followed him back into the room.

“Well, your sword was still in the naracuga.” Naracuga, so that’s what attacked me . I made a mental note to remember that for the future. Loughlan continued, “And Nickolai knew where your cottage was, so we were able to find the trunk. But unfortunately, there really wasn’t much else to salvage.”

The mention of Nickolai’s name made my blood boil, but it rapidly reversed into ice at a sudden realization. “Did anyone open my trunk?” I said, my voice slipping into a tone of steel.

His brows furrowed as he fumbled for an answer, “Uh, I don’t think so.

” The breath that I didn’t know I was holding in preparation for his answer rushed from my lungs.

But my relief was short-lived as he straightened to level me with the look of someone deadly, which I had no doubt he was. “Do I need to look through it?”

My eyes widened, “No, I just have—” I tried to search for the right words, “personal things in there.” It was partially truthful, but from the hint of red on his cheeks, it became clear that he thought I was talking about things more intimate. I didn’t bother to correct him.

“Good—Sorry, I just have to make sure the king will be safe.” His earlier demeanor slipped back in place, making him seem like a man who had a tendency to be a hardass, but deep down, he was kind hearted.

A soft knock on the open door had us turning to look at the woman who filled it.

Her naturally sweet smile lifted freckled cheeks in the direction of hazel eyes that were locked on me.

She glided toward me, her simple dress and long auburn hair catching in the breeze before she stopped in front of me and curtsied.

“Glad to see you’re awake, miss, my name is Ysabel, your lady’s maid." she said, her voice soft and melodious.

My brows knit together in even more confusion, creating more questions than I could ever get the answers to. I was typically the person to be a lady’s maid, not the other way around.

I looked at Loughlan, asking, “A lady’s maid?”

He too looked bewildered, but more so at my question, “Let me go get Nic.”

“No—” I rushed, trying to stop him, but he was already gone.

Turning back to Ysabel, who patiently waited for me to respond.

“Nice to meet you—please, call me Mira,” I greeted with a smile that formed into an awkward line.

My fingers suddenly became the most fascinating thing to me as I picked under each nail.

“Hello Mira,” she greeted—the smile that was on her face found its way into her voice. “I’m sure you’re confused. I hear there have been a lot of changes for you in the past few days.”

Her words had me freezing my anxious habit, lifting my gaze to hers, “Few days? How long have I been asleep?”

Ysabel's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to explain, but instead the smooth, familiar voice filled the room, “Three days, two of them while we traveled, and one of them here.”

Nickolai filled the doorway, leaning against it with his tall and muscled frame stuffed into a green suit coat with gold details, delicately placed over a white tunic and pants.

I knew for fact that the top of my head doesn’t even reach his shoulder, but that wasn’t so much to do with him as it was with me.

I was on the shorter side of women; few others were my height, but most sat half a foot taller.

He looked the same as he did nearly five years ago.

Still, every bit as handsome with a square jaw and strong nose that I instinctively wanted to run my tongue along.

There were only two differences now. One was that his hair was shorter, cut to look slightly overgrown rather than the shoulder-length brown waves it had been before. And two, I hated him.

My body steeled at the sight of the bastard I vowed to kill a long time ago.

The red mist in the pit of my stomach danced rapidly with renewed vengeance.

Any grief that was starting to overwhelm me from the months of pushing it down disappeared.

Leaving a need that rippled through me like electricity through a lightning strike.

I didn’t think about the consequences that were likely to follow, all I knew was that I needed to see him bleeding.

In an instant, I was tackling him to the ground, punching his face repeatedly.

As hard as his jaw was, all the strength inside me filled the few punches I got in, breaking his nose and jaw before I was pulled away by Loughlan.

I fought his grip but stopped to revel in the sight of Nickolai, bloodied.

My view became skewed by the appearance of another man, only a hair shorter than Loughlan with dark curls that fell over his gray eyes, bending down to help.

Nickolai gently pushed the gray-eyed man away as he stood once more.

The cruel smile on my face disappeared at the sound of Nickolai’s laugh—turning it into a sneer.

He fixed his jaw and nose—which immediately healed—and wiped the blood from his lip.

Another wave of rage washed over me at the sight of my damage not having created any lasting effects.

I slipped through the grips on my arms, sending my fist flying at his face again.

This time, however, he caught it.

His soul-stirring pools of emerald that used to hold so much control over me narrowed. “I’ll let you get away with the first ones, Tiny. But I ask that you stop before my men think I can be beaten up by a little girl.” He released my fist, and his eyes wandered down my body.

At his gaze, I fixed the robe around me and glared at him, “Don’t you fucking dare look at me like that!”

“I forgot how hot you are when you get that fire in your eyes,” he chuckled.

The red mist grew and every cell of my body burned as my hands tightened into fists and I leveled him with a stare that had uncertainty enter his eyes for a split second.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Okay, I’ll stop,” he conceded. “Loughlan said you had some questions?”

“Why do I have a lady’s maid?” I snapped, my voice slipping back into the steel tone as my body still shook with rage.

“You have a lady’s maid because you are my guest,” he shrugged, gesturing to the room around him.

“Your guest?” I asked, even more bewildered now than I'd been before.

“That’s right—I never fully introduced myself to you before, did I?” he said with his mouth curving into a crooked smile—which did nothing to hide the flash of nervousness that passed through him. “I’m Nickolai Dragoslav, the King of Drine.”

My breath hitched, but I maintained eye contact.

King.

“And I have a few questions for you as well, Tiny,” he drawled with complete seriousness.

My body filled with increasing panic at his last sentence. What questions could he possibly have for me? What could he know?

I barely registered my own whisper between the increasing breaths, “Out. Now.”

His eyes narrowed slightly—concern overshadowing the firm glare he had before.

After a moment, Nickolai’s head dipped in a nod before commanding everyone to leave.

His eyes were trained on me, watching every ragged breath that escaped my lungs before he too left.

As soon as the door shut, I sank to the ground, leaning forward with my head buried in my hands.

I rocked myself, letting the new information sink in while running through my mind the questions he may have.

With each second, the attack grew, and I became no longer able to think about anything other than my own breathing. Panic stole every bit of my focus as I fought through each oncoming wave.