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Desperate

Daenn - A Few Weeks Prior

I n the distance, I saw the Chambledon estate. Earl Tolomon Becker’s home. Emana’s home, though my thoughts recoiled from that idea. It didn’t fit her. It was too impersonal and cold for someone like Emana.

I shook my head, focusing on the wind tearing over my face. I couldn’t think about her like that. I needed her. I needed her magic. My people needed her magic. My chest tightened as I remembered again what had pushed me into making this journey now, after all these years.

Larken, one of my closest and wisest allies. Gone in an instant, just like the others, but this time, it had been as I’d looked in his eyes, as I’d grasped his hand in a moment of camaraderie.

I would miss him sorely, along with everyone else my cursed magic had taken from me.

I drew in a ragged breath. I’d lost so much, starting with Emana and continuing in what felt like an endless battle. I was so tired.

I desperately hoped she wouldn’t turn me away. That was why I was doing this as formally as I could. I’d come with a full honor guard—as a king in need of an ally, not as a man in need of a woman.

I couldn’t have her. I knew this; she was married. But I had a plan. I would invite her to stay at the clan as an advisor. Invite Tolomon, her oily husband, as well, since no doubt he would want to go wherever Emana went.

I mentally planned out the conversation, telling Emana about my magic. I didn’t fear her reaction, despite how monstrous I was.

Emana wouldn’t shy away. Her compassion was part of why I loved her. Telling her husband about it was another matter. I didn’t want to trust a lowlander with such a secret, but would he allow Emana to come if he didn’t know the full extent of my crisis?

I clenched a fist on the reins. Storm churred, barely audible over the wind. I could feel a vague sense of questioning from him, but I shook it off. Our gryphon-rider bond didn’t allow us to carry conversations, and trying to explain my heartache over Emana, my dislike of her husband, wouldn’t compute to my gryphon. If he could speak, he would simply tell me to challenge Tolomon to a fight. But that would run counter to my goals. I needed the man to… not like me, but agree to what I needed.

I just had no idea how to accomplish this.

Below us, the castle looked like a plaything, dark and drowsy in the fading sunlight. I pressed lightly on Storm’s sides, and he began his descent.

My men followed suit, I knew, even though I couldn’t hear them over the wind. I could see Eskil in my peripheral, and the others were well trained.

I could only imagine the sight we presented to any of Tolomon’s guards watching from below .

Yes, I decided. I would present the idea of her being an honored advisor first and hope that was enough for her husband.

Her husband.

The word was rancor on my mind, even after all these years. I needed to fortify myself. In mere moments, I would see her, I would see them together, and their happiness would destroy me. If I succeeded here, my life was about to become my own personal hell.

I couldn’t help a grimly wry smile. It already was. At least this hell would affect only me instead of putting my people at risk. If that was the torture I had to endure, so be it.

We landed in front of the manor, and I dismounted and moved to scratch under Storm’s chin. He preened.

“You flew well, my friend,” I murmured. He pressed his head into my chest, and a sense of a demand rose in my mind. I smiled. “One. You can have one treat, but no more, or you’ll be too lazy to fly us home.” And I couldn’t help but plan for the possibility that we would go home empty-handed, that Emana or—more likely—her husband would turn us away, and I would have to find some other way to save my people from myself.

As I started to move to fetch Storm the promised rabbit, the great doors of the castle slammed open.

I turned, resisting the urge to pull my sword on instinct.

Tolomon, Emana’s husband, strode down the steps, his face stormy despite the smile affixed there, a smile that I had no doubt told the people of the lowland courts ‘be aware of me. I’m dangerous.’

I couldn’t help but think it made him look like a petulant child who hadn’t gotten his way .

I stepped away from Storm, flicking a hand at one of my men. He fell back from the others, who were already moving into position behind me. He would get Storm’s promised treat and care for the other gryphons so we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone sulking on the flight home.

I got halfway across the courtyard when Tolomon reached the bottom step, but I didn’t get a chance to issue a formal greeting.

“Why are you here?” The anger lacing his voice matched his face, but that wasn’t what put me on my guard. That would be the hatred. This man hated me. I knew hatred well. I’d seen it on the battlefield, in men intent on cutting me down, and while I didn’t know why, I could say with certainty that this man hated me more than any I’d faced before.

I curled my hands into fists to keep myself from going for my sword. “Greetings, Lord Becker. I am Daenn Henriken, King of the Allied Gryphon Clans.” We’d met before, when Emana had left the clan for her wedding, but I didn’t know if he remembered who I was specifically or if he just hated gryphon riders in general.

“I know who you are,” snarled Tolomon. “Why have you come?”

There would be no pleasantries, then. I shifted, straightened. “I’ve come to speak with Emana.”

“Lady Becker. She is my wife, and you will not speak as if you are familiar with her.”

I clenched my jaw. The years of memories I had gave me every right to familiarity with my childhood friend, but I lashed that line of thought back. The man was right. Emana was his wife, and I would do well to keep some distance between us. I was still desperately in love with her, but maybe I could keep that painful truth to myself better with the barrier of another man’s name between us. It was a futile hope, but I chose to ignore that whispered voice for the time being.

I inclined my head. “Lady Becker. My apologies. Is she in residence? It’s a matter of urgency.”

“No.” Tolomon’s word clipped over the end of my sentence, and behind me, I could sense how my men shifted. If Tolomon were a gryphon rider, they would be taking him to task for his insolent behavior toward me.

“No,” I repeated slowly. “She’s not in residence? When will she return?”

Tolomon stomped closer. “No, you may not see her. You aren’t getting anywhere near my wife.”

Cold anger slowly began rising in me at the possessive note Tolomon hinged on the term of address for Emana.

“Isn’t it for her to decide if she wants to see me?” I said, slowly. I could feel myself slipping into my warrior king mask, but Tolomon was too irate to notice—or less of a coward than I would have pegged him for.

“I decide. She’s mine.” Tolomon said the word with a sneer. “Mine to speak for, mine to bed.” His sneer deepened. “Sure, she’s a bit useless, given that she hasn’t managed to produce me any heirs yet. But that’s what bastards are for, and I have a few of those lying about.”

My senses sharpened as my rage eclipsed me. The longer he spoke, the harder it was not to kill this man. “Where is Emana?” My voice was a low growl, but it cut through Tolomon’s tirade.

His face turned purple that I would dare use her name again. But I didn’t care. He would do well to remember Emana’s ties to me, because suddenly my reason for coming was not the only reason I was here .

Even if she sent me away, I would not be leaving until I had seen her, until I could ascertain her well-being. I had never liked Tolomon, but in the last few minutes, he had made it clear how far beneath Emana he was, how little he truly deserved her.

“I will see her.” My voice was full of menace. I could see the moment Tolomon realized and fear slid into his gaze.

But the fear didn’t make him back down. He snarled wordlessly and drew his sword, diving at me. I didn’t even think. I pulled my sword and blocked in an instant, instincts and years of training guiding me.

I was death, and this man deserved to die.

My opponent drew back, and I moved in, relentless. He barely managed to parry my feint, but I spun out of it and swept my sword around and deep into his chest.

It was a faster death than he deserved. But he was a danger, and that was the only thought driving me. The body dropped at my feet, and I pulled my sword out, blinking away the battle haze that had come over me.

I looked down. I had killed a lord of Verksland. I grimaced; even though he had attacked first, that would be a headache.

A feminine cry came from the great doors. I snapped my head up. Emana stood there. Whole, healthy, if it weren’t for the look of pure shocked outrage on her face, and something inside me loosened at the sight of her after so long. But she was staring at me like I was a monster. I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes.

Of course she was. With the scene before her, I couldn’t blame her.

Fine. I would be the monster. I needed her, and there was no way she would come willingly after this. I could only hope that once she’d had time to calm down, what she knew of me would allow her to listen, allow me to explain this.

I knew how futile a hope that probably was, but it didn’t matter at the moment. It was time for Emana to come home. She was the only one who could keep me from tearing my clan apart.

I opened my eyes and met her gaze. “You’re coming back to the clan.”

Fire sparked in her eyes, and her chin tilted up. I knew that look. I knew her every look and mannerism. They were branded into my heart, along with everything else about her, marking me, making me useless for any other woman.

I spoke again, forestalling her protest as my mind snapped through my options. After what I’d just done, I needed a way to keep her at my side. Maybe even something that would give me access to her magic even if she tried to run or leave. Maybe that would be enough to stop my magic and save my people, even if she hated me for it.

I hated myself for it, but that didn’t stop the words coming out of my mouth. “You’re coming home,” I said again, “and you’re marrying me before tomorrow’s nightfall.”