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Hawthorne

Many stories of the early fae refer to a source of magic that each fae has deep inside themselves. There are various terms for this source, but the most common is the aether-heart . Early fae believed that in addition to their physical heart, they possessed a magical heart, made of the same aether that courses through the leylines of the world. Fae of today do not possess such a source, and it is impossible to know whether the aether-heart is fable alone or whether it has disappeared from the fae people over time.

The Legends of the Fae, Volume II

“The rebellion’s primary headquarters are an abandoned manor in Oakton,” Silene tells the Council of Advisors four days after my first outing with Laurel. We’ve spent every evening together since, talking, laughing, and stealing glances at one another when we think the other isn’t looking. My body burns deliciously when she’s near, leaving me frigid in her absence. But if I don’t move slowly, she may bolt, both metaphorically and literally, with her ability to aerstep great distances at any moment.

“What do you propose, Miss Kalmeera?” Admon asks Silene.

“We attack there, scatter them. From what I’ve observed, many members of the Sons and Daughters are just normal villagers. Some from Oakton, some from surrounding villages. They’ll run back to their families at the first sign of trouble.”

Laurel leans casually against a window in the back of the room as Silene leads the meeting, expression blank, listening intently but revealing nothing in her features. It takes the centuries of control I’ve honed like a blade at my father’s side to stay seated and keep my gaze from her luscious body. She doesn’t want to reveal anything about our connection, even accidentally, to the Council. She says it’s so that Silene and I can better uncover information within the Council, but I know there’s more to it. I’m content to wait as long as it takes.

“How do we know when there will be a large gathering of rebels at the manor?” Carex asks Silene.

“We don’t, but we actually don’t want there to be a lot of rebels there when we attack,” she responds, the smallest ounce of haughtiness seeping into her tone, so subtle only those who know her well would catch it. She knows about Laurel’s past with Carex and dislikes him on my behalf. I can’t keep my lips from twitching with a smirk—she’s a great friend.

“And why is that?” Carex demands. I clench my fists. I loathe this male. I can’t believe I tried to flirt with him when I first arrived, even if it was just a ploy to get close to Laurel.

“The attack will scare away the less committed rebels, whether we kill many or kill a few. We’re better off not risking inciting rage further by killing someone’s mother, or father, or child because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Silene’s response mimics Laurel’s cool confidence. The two of them together will be an unstoppable force. Carex looks like he’s about to say something, but Laurel steps forward to support Silene, clearly as annoyed as I am by Carex’s continual questioning.

“Silene’s right. We should keep casualties to a minimum. They’re still citizens of Thayaria.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, and I love seeing this side of her. Not quite Witch Queen, but not the Laurel I know either. This is the Queen of Thayaria, the female who has strategically protected her isolated kingdom for three hundred years.

“I agree with Her Majesty and Miss Kalmeera,” Admon offers in support. The ancient fae has yet to find any useful information on the mating bond in his texts. I’m impatient, but only because I know Laurel needs information like she needs chocolate cake and aether.

“And what if we arrive and the rebels have a large contingent who return with force?” Carex asks, haughty arrogance in his voice that makes me want to wrap my hands around his neck.

“We offer them a chance to lay down their weapons and surrender,” Laurel says calmly.

“And if they refuse?” His tone implies that Laurel doesn’t know what she’s doing, and my blood boils. How dare he question her like this in front of others? How dare he imply she’s anything less than the seasoned leader she is? My fury on her behalf is misplaced, however, because the Queen of Thayaria responds, and she takes care of his questioning with only five words.

“I show them no mercy.” The ruthlessness she embodies makes my blood heat for a different reason.

We spend the rest of the meeting discussing the plans to storm the Oakton manor. I offer little to the discussion, content to let Silene and Fionn shine. They’re both in their element. Silene offers strategies while Fionn provides the tactical advice to execute on those strategies. When we’ve confirmed final plans, the Council adjourns, but I hang back, desperate for any extra moment with Laurel. To my disappointment, both Carex and Admon remain as well. I nod to Silene and Fionn, giving them the signal to leave and use the gathering of the advisors in the hallway to probe for information under the guise of gossip.

“Prince Hawthorne,” Carex says as he approaches me, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I wanted to—um—apologize for my treatment of you these past months. I’m sure you can understand how my mistrust of Velmarans may have led me to make assumptions about your character that were unfair. Laurel has assured me of her trust in you.” I want to rip out his tongue for using Laurel’s name and not her title, but I quell my rage. This is a peace offering, and I will play nice, for Laurel’s sake. When he sticks out his hand to shake mine, I merely stare at it. Some things are a step too far.

“Apology accepted, Captain,” is all I say before walking away, leaving him alone with his hand held out. My eyes catch Laurel’s, and I swear I see the corners of her mouth tick up, but she keeps her expression neutral as she speaks with Admon. After a few beats, Carex bows to Laurel, then leaves.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Admon says with a respectful nod. “I’ve found something that might interest you. Would you like to speak here?”

Laurel’s features instantly sharpen. “No. My rooms,” she says, then strides from the room. The Queen is so different from the female I know as Laurel, and sometimes it throws me off, though not in a bad way—I like the surprise. This is one of those moments. I look at Admon and shrug with a grin, then follow behind her.

Lunaria is lounging in a patch of sunrays that beam down from a window set high in the wall when we enter Laurel’s rooms. The cat raises her head lazily until Admon follows in behind me. She leaps to her feet, and a deep yowl emits from low in her throat.

“Oh, go,” Laurel shoos. The cat holds her ground for another moment before slowly backing from the room, yellow eyes never leaving Admon, who looks deeply uncomfortable by the interaction. “Told you she doesn’t tolerate anyone but Nemesia. Her liking of you is very out of character,” Laurel says with a sly smile.

When we’re all seated, Laurel and I pressed close together on a sofa and her hand in mine, where it always belongs, Admon recounts the information he’s gathered.

“It’s difficult to translate, and I haven’t made out all the characters, but I believe I have enough now to understand the meaning of a story about mates recounted in the tome.” I can practically feel Laurel’s anticipation crawling across my own skin. But she only nods for him to continue. “This story details an unusual mating bond between a male fae and a female witch. At least, that’s the closest translation I can find to the character that describes the female. It seems to be a magical creature that is not fae. Likely just an embellishment to the story, since it’s a book of fables.” Admon seems to become lost in his own thoughts.

“And why is this story of interest?” Laurel prompts, sharp but not unkind.

“Ah yes, well, in the story, the mating bond is described similarly to how you both discussed yours,” Admon continues. “Discovered when blood has been spilled and connected to the magical source of each partner. In the story, the fae and witch must accept the mating bond, and once they do, their aether-heart , as I believe it’s translated, changes to incorporate features of their partner’s aether-heart .”

Laurel is thoughtful, and I wait for her to speak first. What Admon described seems similar to what we’ve experienced. My aether-heart , if that is what it’s called, has changed dramatically. Where once it was immovable, now it whips and roils with a fierce energy that feels like Laurel, despite the cool exterior she so often portrays.

“Does this fable explain how the mates accepted the bond?” Laurel finally asks, expression guarded.

“I’m afraid not. All I’ve translated so far is that story and a short passage that explains some of the common elements included in all stories about mates. There’s always an aether-heart, there’s always some change to the fae as a result of accepting the bond, and the mates get to choose whether to accept or deny the bond. What that acceptance looks like seems to be unique to each individual story.” The idea that Laurel could choose to deny the mating bond makes my chest ache, but I stay silent. Laurel lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’ll keep translating,” Admon promises. The old male looks at Laurel with the love of a parent, clearly wanting to help her with this. He hesitates, like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should. “But, Your Majesty, if I may speak plainly…” he finally says.

“Yes, of course, Admon,” Laurel says.

“It seems to me that Prince Hawthorne may have already accepted the bond, based on how he described his experience. His aether-heart .” His words ring true, and I nod.

“It’s definitely changed, and it… it feels like you,” I say, locking eyes with Laurel. I want to smile, but her expression gives me pause.

“How can you possibly know that?” she demands, somewhat sharply, but I don’t flinch. I just keep meeting her gaze, unwavering in my certainty.

“It’s just an instinct, like the mating bond itself. But I know it’s right.” Her eyes stare at me, searching my expression like she always does, looking for any sign of deceit.

“Your Majesty,” Admon interjects, “based on your description, I think you have not yet accepted the bond. You mentioned a swirling energy trying to get in. My guess is that energy is the bond, waiting for you to accept it. I imagine if you rejected the bond, that energy would go away, and if you accepted, your aether-heart would change.” Laurel practically shudders, and it breaks my heart just a little, but I keep my expression neutral. I won’t pressure her—she needs to decide for herself if she wants to take this leap with me.

“I see,” is all she says, her voice quiet and thoughtful.

Admon clears his throat again, then stands. “I’ll send word if I find anything else.” The male has ascertained that the two of us need a moment alone. With a bow, he leaves the room, and I instantly wrap Laurel’s hands in both of mine.

“Talk to me Laurel. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I whisper, unable to stay silent. I drop my chin to her shoulder. She stalls, looking everywhere but at me. I only squeeze her hand, giving her time.

“Do you really think you’ve accepted the bond?” she finally asks, pulling back from me so she can search my face.

“I do,” I soothe, steady in my resolve.

“But… How? How could you accept something so massive, so life changing, in an instant?” Her voice cracks just slightly, and I know this is hard for her. This is the same female who has shuttered herself away from the world, away from any companionship beyond the best friend who has now betrayed her. She practices her magic in the most isolated part of the entire Four Kingdoms so that there is no chance of her losing control. She plans down to the most insignificant detail. Of course she’s struggling to accept this. I’ll do whatever it takes to show her she can trust me, that I’m a safe place for her. I take my hand from hers to wrap my arms around her middle, snuggling her against me where we sit on the couch.

“Because it wasn’t in an instant. I’ve felt that bond since the moment I met you, even without knowing what it was. I’ve watched you, gotten to know you, seen your love for your people and your desire to be a good ruler.” I squeeze her tightly. “When I said you were the answer to a question I’ve asked my entire life, I meant it. Something about you feels right. Realizing what you were to me was simply a moment of clarity in what has been an aethers-confusing several months.” She laughs, bringing a lightness to my body instantly, but it doesn’t last. She stands, walking away from me to stare out the window.

“I’m not like you,” she says, voice emotionless. “I’m not—I don’t easily accept others into my confidence. And the ones I have accepted either end up dead or betraying me…” She says the words quickly, like they’re just a fact, but her voice cracks, and that sound has me on my feet and moving to stand beside her again. But I don’t touch her this time, just give her my presence as she continues. “Thorne, I’m not good. I care for my people, yes, but I—the things I’ve done to protect Thayaria…” She’s lost in her own thoughts, finally revealing her emotions, so I stay silent, even if what she tells me breaks my heart. Her expression steels, like she’s going to tell me something truly terrible. “I planned to kill you when you finished getting me information about the rebels. I don’t know if I would have, but I still planned—” The way her voice cracks tells me the risk she doesn’t accept this bond is low. She cares for me, she just needs time to realize it. “And you don’t even know—don’t understand. My power, it’s… my power is different. It’s not good. I’m not safe .” Tears build in her eyes, but only a single teardrop escapes. I wipe it away, keeping my gaze locked on hers. While my curiosity about her power has plagued me for months, I don’t press it. It’s torture not wrapping her up in my arms.

“I understand why you would’ve planned to kill me. It was the smart decision, one I know that had our roles been reversed, Silene would have advised I do to you.” I give her a nudge and a grin. “Laurel, I told you before—there’s no part of you I fear. But let me amend that statement. There’s no part of you I don’t admire, that I don’t respect. And there’s no part of you I wish you to hide from me. I want to see every side of you, Laurel, even the parts you can’t bear to look at yourself.”

“What if I’m too afraid to show you?” she asks, so much vulnerability in her voice it makes me ache. I take both of her hands in mine, then cradle them on my chest, next to my aether-heart.

“You aren’t, of that I’m sure,” I whisper. “I know there’s nothing you’re too afraid of, even if you yourself don’t believe that yet. It might take you a month or a century to trust me enough, but I’m patient. I’ll make every day another opportunity to prove to you I’m worthy of your trust, that I’m worthy to stand by your side. And even if you never accept the mating bond, I’ll still choose you. You can let that light swirl around your aether-heart for eternity. I’m not going anywhere.” The words are truer than she knows. Even if she accepts the bond, I’ll spend every day we’re together trying to be worthy of her, even if I never achieve it. Lunaria appears, rubbing her body against Laurel’s legs until she lets go of my hands and pets the massive cat. I laugh at the intrusion in such an intense moment, but it seems to calm Laurel, so I’m happy to let Lunaria into our space. “All I ask, Laurel, is that you don’t give up. That you keep chipping away at that stony exterior and let me in a little at a time. It doesn’t have to be every day, and you will inevitably put walls back up even as you drop others. But can you promise to give us a real chance?” I ask, holding my breath for her answer. She nods, and I release a sigh.

“Yes,” she says, breathy, like a confession. I can’t stop myself, and my lips crash onto hers. She meets my passionate embrace, wrapping her arms around me. I’m vaguely aware of Lunaria padding away, but my focus on Laurel is singular. I cup my hands under her ass and lift her, carrying her to the desk in the corner. With a blink, she removes everything from the top with magic, and I chuckle even as I continue my frantic kissing. I place her gently, so gently, on the desk. Then I rip open the top of her dress in one furious motion, exposing her perfect breasts.

The world around me disappears. I’ve imagined this moment, dreamed of exposing those perfectly blush nipples, so many times. But now that it’s finally here, I can’t believe I ever tried to construct the perfection in my mind. Nothing compares to reality, and an involuntary groan escapes me as I hold their weight in my hands. Laurel runs her fingers through my hair, and I bring my lips to her chest. I kiss my way across each breast, then suck one nipple into my mouth and bite down gently.

“Thorne,” she moans, and it nearly undoes me. I bring the skirt of her dress up to her hips, running my palms across the soft and delicate skin of her thighs. Thank fuck she’s wearing a gown today. She dips her head back, and I tease her with light touches on her inner thighs that move closer and closer to where I know she’s already wet. She moans again. “Please,” she whispers, but I hold back from giving her what she wants. I stroke my thumb across the barrier of fabric of her undergarments, but I don’t move them to the side. She arches her hips toward me in a demanding motion. With a final sensual kiss, I lower her skirt, taking my time stroking her legs as I do. “Thorne,” she whimpers, the word a plea, but I hold my ground. I bring my mouth close to her ear.

“I want you to be sure, witchling,” I whisper, and she shivers. “Of us, and of the mating bond. When you’re ready, I promise you our joining will be electrifying .” I help her from the desk, then patiently wait for her to change into leggings and a tunic for a training session.

“They’re asking for a route into the palace,” Silene tells Laurel, Fionn, and me several hours later. After the meeting with the Council, Silene and Fionn visited the granary to check in with the rebels. They were trying to discover whether the rebels discovered the letter we stole. Instead, they’d received a message from Krantz, detailing plans to attack Laurel and the palace. I guess they don’t suspect us, at least not yet—not a promising sign that Nemesia isn’t the mole.

It feels like eons have passed since I promised Laurel I would help convince the rebels to attack her instead of her people. So much has changed between us, and I’m even less interested in enabling her to put her life on the line than I once was.

“And they plan to attack in three weeks?” Laurel asks, wholly unphased by the news that the rebellion is planning an attack on her.

Silene nods. “That’s what they said. They also mentioned a backup plan, but it’s less than ideal, so they’d like us to sneak in three dozen rebels. And said that once we sneak the rebels in, we should make ourselves scarce.” Laurel’s calm somehow makes me more agitated.

“We obviously can’t help them,” I say with a voice that leaves no room for argument. “We need to cut our losses and move on. We’ve gained what we needed to.” Silene and Fionn both look like they’re about to agree, but Laurel cuts them off.

“No. If they can’t get in here, who knows what they’ll do to Arberly or the nearby villages. We’ll let them attack, but in a controlled way.” Every nerve in my body protests the plan. “There are many servants’ entrances. You can tell them about one of them. We’ll let them in, but I’ll be ready for them.” I dislike this plan, and I’m about to look to Silene for help to convince Laurel that this is madness when my friend adds her own twist to the scheme.

“Good point. We should rush our plans to take out their headquarters in Oakton and do it at the same time,” Silene adds, and I slump in defeat. “It will probably be empty while they attack the palace, and we can send a group to the manor. We’ll collect all the information we can from it, then burn it to the ground. It only brings our plans up by a few days, and this way we won’t have any unnecessary casualties.” I don’t like this, and my agitation throws me off. I’m not used to getting so worked up, but the thought of Laurel putting herself at risk makes my skin crawl.

“If the timing of our attack on their manor coincides, the rebels will know we’re working with you. Our ruse will be over,” I offer, clawing for any excuse not to move forward with this plan.

“As you said, Thorne,” Laurel says coolly, challenge in the gaze she lands right on me. “We’ve gained what we needed to. Time to cut our losses. Might as well go out with a bang.” Her smirk is wicked, and if I weren’t panicking for her safety, I’d growl back my own flirtatious barb.

“I think Laurel’s right,” Fionn says gruffly, and I give him a look of betrayal. “A lot of the rebels are just common folk, pulled into something they don’t understand. We shouldn’t punish them, at least not without a warning first.” Of course he would take the commoners’ side.

Laurel gives him a grateful nod. “We can tell the Council tomorrow morning and complete our plans.” No. No, no, no. This isn’t safe. I can’t allow Laurel to put herself at risk like this.

“Laurel, can I speak with you privately, please?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the tension out of my voice. She follows me into my bedroom in the apartment. “I don’t like this,” I growl, my voice low. “It puts you in unnecessary danger. I know you haven’t accepted the mating bond yet, so you don’t understand the… primal urge I feel to protect you.” She puts her hand on her hip, expression haughty and fierce.

“I’m the strongest fae to ever live, Thorne. I think I’ll be okay,” she snaps.

“ I know that, but the mating bond doesn’t,” I practically choke out.

“I will always be a target. If it’s not the rebels, it will be your father. If it’s not your father, it will be the Queen of Delsar. If you truly intend for this to work between us, you’re going to have to learn to live with my being in danger.” Her eyes are bright, and it drives me mad. I understand her reasoning, but the protective urge is overwhelming. I swallow once. Twice. Then I take a deep breath, pulling myself together.

“Okay,” I finally say. “But I want to be by your side, hidden.” She starts to protest, the attitude I love so much rising to her expression. I know what she’s going to say, so I hold my hand up. “Please, Laurel. I know you can protect yourself. But I need to be there.”

I can feel the weight of this compromise between us. Me accepting her exposure; her accepting my protection. She studies me, and for once I understand the thoughts running through her mind—she also realizes how important this moment is for us.

“Fine,” she says, and I loose a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I give her a giant cocky grin. “You won’t even know I’m there, witchling.”