Page 6

Gemma brought me a glass of water and, upon seeing the goose egg on my forehead, wrapped some ice and snow in a cloth to reduce the swelling.

And the rest of them—they stared at me. It was an effort not to recoil from the attention.

Regardless of the warmth in their gazes, the way they all watched…

I felt on display. They were all very attractive, and I didn’t know how long to look or if I should look or if it was rude to stare, but they were all looking at me.

So I couldn’t help but stare back with wide eyes, politeness be damned. As if I’d miss something if I wasn’t careful.

“Gemma?” I hissed nervously, afraid to take my eyes off them all. “Who’s in my house?”

She moved to stand behind my chair. With a hand on each shoulder, she guided my attention back toward the sofa, where the three of the four new men in my house had moved to. “These men are here to help.”

I pulled back from Gemma and shot her a nervous glare .

“Caz Sinclair,” said the first of them, his voice cheerful and smooth.

Caz was the tallest of the three, lean, with shiny black hair and hazel eyes.

I guessed he was the oldest aside from the man who’d saved me.

He presented himself with a dramatic, playful bow.

“And my brother Finn,” Caz added, gesturing to the man sitting beside him.

He looked a year or two younger, with almost all the same features, including his hazel eyes.

He was slightly shorter than Caz, but what he lacked in height—which wasn’t much—he made up for with brawn.

“An honor.” Finn bowed more reservedly than his brother. “We have waited a long time to meet you.”

The third of them—a young man with sandy-blond hair and freckles—gave me a shy smile and nodded. “Yes, an honor,” he echoed Finn’s sentiment. “I’m Ezra.”

I shot a wary glance in Gemma’s direction. “You—” My throat scraped, drawing heat to my cheeks in embarrassment. “You too,” I finished shyly.

“Why so quiet?” Caz’s hazel eyes twinkled as he chuckled. Finn shot him a warning stare. “We are here for your protection and companionship. Nothing more.”

“Why do I need protection?” I glared at Gemma.

She didn’t answer, only winced and turned to the others. Vexed, I furrowed my brow and crossed my arms over my chest, careful to avoid brushing against my wound. What else had she forgotten to tell me?

Apprehension weighed heavy on me. My mysterious savior stood by the fireplace, jacket removed, illuminated by the cabin’s dim light.

He stood with his arms crossed, at least a full head and shoulders taller than me.

Huge. His expression was cold, grumpy, and the muscles of his jaw were flexed. He looked… brutal.

His teeth were pressed together behind his lips.

His hair—tied back partially with a black leather strap—was dark brown, and his matching beard was thick, well-kempt.

Wild, yet reserved. He wore all black, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, top button undone.

Both forearms were covered in tattoos, uniform tally marks that spiraled up, around, and into his sleeves.

His muscles were clenched so tight that the veins in his thick, corded forearms were visible.

Yet, despite the tension in his body, those warm, hickory eyes glowed like honey.

He was so savagely beautiful and exhilaratingly terrifying that I had to remind myself to breathe.

When my breath caught in my throat, he noticed. His stern expression turned tortured, and his dark eyebrows drew together.

He silently observed while the other three exchanged small talk about their journey, drinks, supper, and the weather.

The tension that pooled off of him should have irked me.

Instead, the power of his stare was so rigid and gravitating that I couldn’t help but feel it centered me, for better or for worse.

“I was told there would be three, not four.” Gemma’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched in the way it was when she was stressed.

She brought a tray of hot tea, coffee, and mugs to the sofa.

“I expected the Sinclair brothers and Ezra. That is what Simeon, Elowen, and the Wintertons agreed to. Three. No more, no less.” She scowled at my wolf slayer in the corner of the room.

“So who are you ?” Something I, too, was quite interested to know.

But I was stubborn enough to keep my glare trained on Gemma.

“That’s Smyth. Simeon’s orders, last minute,” retorted Caz, then nodded at me. “I bet our girl here’s glad he tagged along.”

My cheeks flooded with heat. Words—all of them—were trapped in my throat. My pleading eyes sought out Gemma, desperate for aid. I should have been more than nervous. I should have been angry …

But there were six total people in my home, including Gemma and this… Smyth. More presence, more life, than I could ever remember inside these walls. Against my better judgment, despite my nerves and inability to speak, I felt reluctant to wish away the sudden and welcome warmth of company.

Loneliness had made me irrational.

“Not your girl, you creep.” Ezra flashed his bright-blue eyes at Caz, his voice an uncomfortable groan.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t spend the entire last week talking about anything but meeting her, Ez.” Caz took a casual sip of his coffee and lifted an eyebrow at Ezra.

“Yeah, but she’s my—” Ezra stopped himself, glaring at Caz before turning to me.

He bore an uncanny resemblance to Oliver, both with his sandy-blond hair and dimples.

And those deep-blue eyes… those were Phillip and Oliver’s eyes.

“You’re my cousin.” His awkwardness—though it did little to help my nerves—was endearing.

At least I wasn’t the only anxious one. “By marriage, anyway. My mom was Phillip’s older sister,” he rushed out.

“What?” I sucked in a ragged breath. I didn’t know Phillip had a sister, or any extended family now that I thought about it. “Gemma?”

“Ezra,” Gemma spoke slowly, like she feared I was having a hard time understanding. She rested her long fingers on Ezra’s forearm. “He’s your cousin, Ary. He’s family.”

“I had a family.”

The words threw themselves loose from my lips like rogue blades. And I hated myself for saying it.

Finn and Caz both crossed their hands in their laps and pursed their lips, waiting patiently for someone else to fill the silent space.

Ezra sighed. I expected anger, but his eyes were rich with empathy, and I hoped he wouldn’t hold it against me.

I stole a glance at the man I now knew to be called Smyth and saw he had trained his unreadable eyes on the ground, muscles flexing in his jaw .

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, forcing my attention back to Ezra. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Ezra waved it away and shrugged. “You’ve been through a lot.” He looked at me, then at the others, then chuckled. “If it was dropped on me that I was destined to save the world, I’d be a bit miffed too.”

Gemma rubbed her eyes and sighed, cringing.

“What?” I choked. I was still very angry with her, but that anger didn’t rival the pit of nausea burrowing deep inside me.

“You haven’t told her?” Finn nearly shouted, his expression a mix of stress and mirth. “Well, shit .”

“This should be fun.” Caz leaned back in his seat and folded a pair of toned arms behind his head. His hazel eyes twinkled beneath a few strands of black hair—far messier than his brother’s.

“I was getting around to it,” Gemma grumbled, scowling at them both. “Elowen didn’t exactly leave me with a trusting Ary. I just told her Simeon’s her real father, and she needed time to process.” She wrung her hands together before throwing them in the air. “Such a gods-damned mess!”

I swallowed hard and looked around at them all in an attempt to garner a look of encouragement or confidence, something that didn’t make me feel completely and utterly lost. My gaze landed on the towering mass of man in the corner.

Smyth’s gaze locked with mine immediately.

Almost as if he’d been waiting for me to look.

The sense of safety I’d felt when he carried me back from the barn still soothed me.

But it was… wrong . I knew that I was so desperate for connection that I yearned to trust whoever walked through my front door.

For some reason, my instinct had chosen him, and I had a feeling it probably shouldn’t have.

“What do you need to tell me?” I retrained my eyes on Gemma, feeling slightly more steady where I sat. “Tell me. ”

Gemma sat down in the empty armchair across from me, folded her long fingers in her lap, and cleared her throat. “Do you remember me telling you about the Dark Ages? Over four hundred years ago, the Rexus dynasty ruled over Nyrida.”

I nodded. The Rexus family had somehow been eradicated by a few rogue vigilante-types, but before their collective deaths, that family had held power for centuries. They were ruthless. They used fear and lies to demand subordination from the people.

“Our people were starving to death under their reign. Those that weren’t starving were fighting each other while the ruling tyrants kept all the wealth and power to themselves.

Until the people found a way to overthrow them.

People—two men, specifically.” Her eyes darted to the others while she divulged details she’d never given me before.

“Some say those men made a deal with the twelve gods to do it. Others say they just got lucky.”

I shifted in my seat. My parents had never let me read any books about our pantheon of twelve gods—the Selvaren. I knew there were twelve, and I knew they showed no signs of mercy upon most of us. Beyond that, they were a mystery to me. “What do you say?”

Gemma sighed. “I say we should have known that mankind cannot handle unlimited power without misusing it.”

Apprehension snaked like a prickly vine around my neck.

“Those two young men, childhood friends…” Gemma straightened her shoulders and continued.

“They went looking for the magic of the Selvaren—a magic only spoken about in legends. They guessed it was a lost cause, a silly story for children with overactive imaginations, but they were desperate to find some way to overthrow the tyrants. It took them over a decade, but that magic? They found it hidden somewhere beneath Nyrida’s surface.

They never disclosed exactly where or how they found it but kept it for themselves and used this power to destroy the Rexus family.

The battle was quick and bloodless. The new way of li fe was meant to be peaceful and sustainable—a better world for our people.

And it worked. For a while, this world had a new start.

The land was cultivated through good magic.

The people were treated fairly, resources shared, power distributed equitably.

For the first time in centuries, Nyrida held hope for a future. ”

“Okay.” I shifted in my seat. “Go on.”

Gemma’s eyes darted around the room again before confessing, “One of those two men was Simeon, your father.”

Disbelief had me gauging the others’ reactions, but they were all stoic. Unsurprised.

My brow lifted. “I thought these men were alive over four hundred years ago.”

I jumped at the sharp flick of Caz’s tongue on the roof of his mouth. He wiggled his fingers in the air. “Magic of the Selvaren, Your Highness.”

Finn rolled his eyes at his brother and muttered, “Read the room.”

Caz chuckled. I took note that the older of the handsome, black-haired brothers found no time or place too inappropriate for a lighthearted joke. Maybe I’d appreciate that later, but not right now.

“Magic,” I repeated skeptically. Yes, sure, magic.

The magic of the gods was a myth. Even if I bought that theory, which I didn’t, this Simeon fellow had made no effort to be a part of my life.

If Elowen was writing to him, he knew about me and knew what I was to him.

Yet he remained absent. Not a single effort to connect with his daughter.

He had no right involving me in whatever mess he’d gotten himself into.

I would let Gemma say her piece, but decided I didn’t have to accept it.

“You’re a queen, Ary.” Gemma bit her lip, her eyes filled with apology for what she was about to admit. “ The queen, actually. Of Nyrida.”