A Dream of Fate & Flesh (Courts of Malice #2)

37. The Cruelest of Ironies

thirty-seven

The Cruelest of Ironies

Rainer

B efore I can process what’s happening, I land on my hands and knees with an oomph , the impact surging through my bones. A loud slam rings out behind me.

I feckin’ hate Yvanthia and her time-stealing magic.

Rising, I brush off my knees and glance behind me. Two guards stand beside me with smug looks, an enormous gate behind them. In the distance, the queen’s castle sprawls like an ink stain on the dark horizon.

“Rainer,” a breathless whisper reaches my ears.

Alessia .

Instinct has me turning toward her voice. Her soft, supple body crashes into me before I can get a good look at her. She smells like the woods—earthy and natural. My hand cups the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her wild, knotted curls.

My heart soars at the idea of her traveling all this distance for me.

“Mo róisín,” I murmur and kiss her head.

Gripping her hand, I tug her away from the guards and Yvanthia.

“Wait… Rainer, what about the girl?” She glances back at the castle. “Did you—”

“No,” I say. I can’t think about the little Tradeling right now. I need to protect Alessia first. We need to regroup .

My stomach clenches with hunger, and my vision goes hazy, but I don’t stop moving until we’re a reasonable distance away. At the city’s edge, I duck us into an alley between a couple of shops.

“What have you done?” Pulling back, I grip her gently by the waist, eyes roaming her body. I search for any injuries, any sign of pain. Whatever she said or did with Yvanthia was enough to set us both free. The implications send a surge of fear up my spine.

“What did you do, Alessia?” I repeat, hands shaking.

Her cheeks heat, and her stare hardens. “You can’t seriously believe I slept with Ezamae,” she hisses. “After everything we’ve been through—”

“That’s not what I meant.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. I’ve fantasized about our reunion a thousand times in the short time I was imprisoned, but I never imagined it would happen under such duress. “I trust your heart,” I say with confidence. She would never intentionally betray me. She isn’t the kind to hurt others, especially not for something as selfish as lust. “The Aer Prince’s words never struck me as truth.”

She visibly relaxes, her face softening and shoulders dropping an inch. She squeezes my hands. “Then what are you talking about, Rainer? You’re free. I’m safe. We can—”

Her voice fades into a quiet buzz as my vision grows dark and spotty. My legs wobble, and I plant a hand on the brick building to keep myself upright. When my senses come back, my gaze lands on Alessia’s throat. It bobs as she swallows. Two small, healing dots remain from… where I bit her?

My gums pulsate as a bolt of heat runs straight to my crotch at the remembrance of that dream. I can't tear my eyes away from that soft, supple neck of hers. It calls to me like a siren' s song.

“—Rainer?” Alessia’s voice snaps me back into it. “Your eyes.”

Her hand comes to my cheek, and I nuzzle into it. Human or not, her sweet scent draws me in and makes my mouth water with a need.

I should’ve never had a taste.

I should’ve never gone back for more in my dream.

Then, I would never know the need for more.

“You need to feed,” she murmurs.

The air behind her wavers, distorting ever so slightly until a figure appears.

“What a happy reunion,” Ezamae says, a smirk on his pale face. He holds up a cloth bag. “I retrieved your weapon and brought—”

Crack .

My fist collides with his nose faster than I can process. His bag tumbles to the ground, biscuits and canteens toppling across the stone.

“You bastard,” I growl. I grab him by the lapel of his jacket and slam his back into the brick.

Alessia yells, gripping my arm and attempting to tug it back. I shake her off.

“Now, now,” Ezamae says, his arrogance slipping. Fear glints in his eye, and I relish it. “Considering you were just imprisoned for harming a prince in his own court, perhaps you could… not do the same to me?”

“You are no longer a prince ,” I growl. “And we are not in your court.”

“Touché. However—”

“You’re a rat. The queen’s whore. ”

Ezamae's lips tighten, cheeks turning pink. “I can see why you might think that.”

My vision flickers again, and my teeth pop out with a slight pressure and a soft, wet pop . Ezamae gulps, his gaze going past me to Alessia.

“Do not look at her.” I jerk him toward me, then slam him into the wall again. His head smacks the brick. “Look at me .”

“Don’t do this, Rainer,” Alessia pleads.

“He hurt you.”

She grips my arm, trying her best to pull me away. “He didn’t. He helped me. He got me to you.”

“He betrayed your trust.”

“It doesn’t mean you should kill him,” her voice wavers. “ Please . Don’t.”

I soften at her manners. Damned human etiquette. It’s the please , in combination with the fact that Ezamae isn’t fighting back, that has me dropping him.

He stands tall, straightening his jacket and shooting me a glare. Blood drips from his nose. “It would seem your reputation is indeed well-deserved.”

“Says the queen’s whore.” I stoop, snagging a canteen from the ground and chugging its contents. The water soothes my dry throat. I polish it off, tossing it at Ezamae’s feet.

“Rainer,” Alessia chastises.

I whirl around. “Nobody hurts the ones I care about.”

She plants a palm on my cheek, smiling softly. “If it weren’t for him, I would never have been able to free you,” she whispers. “It no longer matters about what he did or what the queen wants. It’s just me and you now, love. ”

Her words melt my frozen heart.

“Perhaps I could windwalk you deeper into the city, put space between Yvanthia and us, and explain the situation?” Ezamae says in a nasally voice. He clutches his nose.

“Your help is unwanted.” I grip Alessia’s hand, tugging her close in a protective gesture. Where’s the Terra Prince? He’s another one whose nose I’d love to break. “You have done more than enough. Perhaps it’s best you find Eoin to tend your wound. I recommend you get out of my sight before I snap.”

Ezamae’s gaze latches onto Alessia again. They share a long look, and a hint of sadness passes over Alessia’s features. She tugs my hand and turns to me.

“Maybe we should accept his offer. We have a lot to discuss.” She leans in close. “You need to eat—a real meal. And you need to feed. Your eyes are…”

She doesn’t need to finish. The rage, the hunger, it pounds on me from the inside, begging to free itself from my skin.

“ This is precisely why I was sure to recharge my magic,” Ezamae mutters.

Alessia’s cheeks turn pink. I hate that they have inside commentary. I hate that it revolves around the Prince of Pleasure’s escapades .

My heart drops into my bowels, and I let out a lethal growl. “If I find out you used your dirty magic on my Alessia, I will rip your cock off and shove it so far up your arse—”

“ Rainer ,” Alessia admonishes. She tugs me away from Ezamae. “You should really, really feed. You’re scaring me.”

“I only seduced her once,” the Aer Prince taunts. I whirl around, ripping free of Alessia. He smirks. “She seemed to rather enjoy— ”

I punch Ezamae in the throat. He gasps, doubling over. I ram into him with my shoulder, flipping him straight onto his back. I press my knee into his chest, holding him down. It takes every ounce of self-control to keep from ripping my teeth into his neck.

The only thing keeping me reasonably sane is Alessia’s presence.

I can’t make this worse for her.

Control.

Control yourself, Rainer.

He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath my knee. I growl, my inner monster ready to destroy the feckin’ Aer Prince.

“I’m only kidding,” he says, blood staining his pretty white teeth. “It’s rather fun to rile you up, you angry, terrifying bastard.”

“You deserved that, you aresehole,” Alessia says to Ezamae. Hearing her curse makes me smile, even through the bloodlust. “Rainer, he never touched me. He did use his power…” I growl. “But it’s not like that. He and Eoin… they saved my life.”

I tense, giving her my full attention. “What happened?”

“Can we go talk?”

“Seriously, you could use a bath and change clothes.” Ezamae grimaces beneath me but makes no move to use his power to free himself. “You smell rather ripe.”

I release the Aer Prince, slowly drawing off him to my full height. My legs wobble, and I clench my teeth together, focusing on finding my balance.

Ezamae snatches up the bag he brought and tosses it to Alessia

“You two are incredulous,” Alessia mutters, opening the bag and peering inside. “Rainer, after everything I’ve done to free you, you’re willing to let him provoke you into throwing it away?” She slaps the back of my head and then addresses Ezamae as he rises to his feet. “And you! I have more than a few bones to pick with you. I have no feckin’ clue what got into your trousers, but knock it off.”

She turns, storming down the alley.

“Wait, Alessia,” I call after her. She pauses, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I’m… sorry.” I grit the word out, feeling surprisingly lighter after I do. “You’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.”

“Me too.” Ezamae grumbles beside me, his silver eyes locked onto Alessia. “ Sorry , I mean. To you. Not to him.” He jerks a thumb at me.

My brows fly to my hairline as Alessia slowly turns, hands on her hips. It’s one thing for her to get me to apologize, but to get a whole other faerie prince to do so?

Color me impressed.

“Ezamae, I am rather upset with you,” she says. “You sold me out. You tricked me. I trusted you.”

“You can still trust me,” he says. “I never lied to you.”

“All you did was lie!” She throws her hands up, storming toward us. The fire in her eyes lights me up. “ You are the windwhisperer—not your brother!”

“Actually, I—”

“The pixies warned me.” She shakes her head, and I drink her in, drowning in her newfound confidence.

As rough as she looks, she’s never appeared more gorgeous. Raw, with an edge. With a fight . It makes me proud.

“The pixies told me not to trust the prince—that he lies,” she says. “I thought they meant Eoin… but they meant you, didn’t they? ”

Her voice breaks on those last few words, and it hits me how much Ezamae’s betrayal hurts her, and I hate him for it.

“I never lied,” he says cooly.

His nose has stopped bleeding, the crimson drying on his face—my mouth waters. If I’m craving faerie blood, I am beyond hungry .

He clears his throat. “You once asked me if I was the queen’s pet. I responded that I would never willingly feed the queen information. I was honest when I said I’d much rather keep the secrets for myself.”

“But you’re the spy—”

“Not exactly. My brother, Hamraaz, was the queen’s windwhisperer until recently. We switched roles, which is a long story and quite frankly not relevant to this.” He waves a hand. "I intend to rule again."

“What’s she holding over you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at Ezamae. “A bargain? Blackmail? Which is it?”

He glances around. “Even with my air bubble keeping our conversation private, I do not trust speaking so openly on the streets of Ethyria. We should go.”

I turn to Alessia, who studies Ezamae with a pinched look.

“Do you want to hear him out?" I ask. "Or do you want me to disembowel him?”

Her eyes widen. “What—no!” She shakes her head. “We’ll hear you out, Ezamae.”

I sigh. She’s much too kind. Too trusting. Too forgiving. I despise it. And dammit, if I don’t love her all the more for it.

“Fine,” I say. I clench my trembling hands at my side. There’s only so far I could make it on foot right now. I’ve exerted too much energy kicking Ezamae’s arse, and I need to refuel before I end up face-down on the cobblestone. “Let’s get out of here.”

There’s a small surge of pressure, and the city comes back to us in a rush of noise. Ezamae’s air bubble no longer protects our conversation.

Reluctantly, I allow the bastard Aer Prince to windwalk Alessia and me deeper into the city. He takes us to a brothel of all places and pays for a room and meal for us.

“Paid in dirty coin,” I mutter. Alessia elbows me in the ribs.

Ezamae hands her a key, along with the bag he brought. “You two are at the end of the hall. There are clothes in there for you both. Clean up, eat, rest. I need to recharge anyway.”

“Again?” Alessia scrunches her nose.

I narrow my eyes at Ezamae, not trusting the bastard.

He shrugs, strolling down the hallway. “It’s rather exhausting lugging around extra weight,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into his room.

We enter our room, and I immediately start drawing a bath.

“Good,” Alessia says from the doorway to the bathroom. “You deserve a nice hot bath.”

I glance at her with a furrowed brow. “ You are going first.”

“You’re drawing that bath for me?” she asks, confused. “Rainer, no.”

“Of course I am, mo róisín.”

She shakes her head adamantly.

“You’ve had a long journey,” I say, taking in the dirt under her nails and the bags beneath her eyes. Her hair is filled with twigs and leaves.

“But… but you were the one imprisoned. You should go first. ”

“And you were the one who went out of her way to face the queen and free me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shakes her head. “I should be the one drawing you a bath.”

I frown.

Does she not believe she deserves someone caring for her? Putting her first?

Of course not. She’s used to serving everyone else.

While the water runs, steaming up the mirror, I step close to her and trail my finger down the tattoo on her face. “Let me serve you , Alessia. I can’t bear to see you so exhausted, especially knowing it's my fault. Let me do this for you.”

Her eyes water. She squeezes them shut. “Okay,” she murmurs. “Are you going to be okay in the meantime?”

I nod. Once I eat and drink, the bloodlust should simmer down, too. I’ll have my wits. My control.

A knock sounds on the door.

“That’s our food,” I say. “Strip down and get in the bath.” She stares at me hesitantly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Now. Don’t make me ask you again.”

She flushes, a smile forming as she nods.

"Good girl," I mutter.

I quickly leave her behind to accept the delivery of food. I’m sure to lock the deadbolt. Bringing a stand into the bathroom, I prop the tray of cheese and cured meats beside the tub. Alessia lounges in the water, bliss on her face. I perch on the curled edge of the tub.

My eyes roam down her slender neck, to her collarbone, to her perky breasts. The sight of her rosebud nipples just below the waterline has me hardening in my pants. The flaming need roars to life inside me, and my eyes linger on her delicate neck. My gums throb in time with her pulse. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on anything other than her scent.

Her blood was… perfect . Human, with a tinge of magic, but an appealing kind, unlike the other fae I’ve bitten.

“Look at me, Rainer,” she murmurs.

“Can’t,” I croak, taking a deep breath and holding it as long as possible.

“What are you afraid of?”

“You,” I growl.

The water splashes, and I feel her hand clasping mine a second later. “You won’t hurt me.”

Stroking my jaw, I shake my head. She pulls my hand to her breast, and I melt at the feel of her soft skin under my palm. I stroke her gently, afraid to touch her in person.

Afraid to hurt her.

Pulling away, I stand and turn my back to her. “You need to eat,” I command. Taking my own advice, I pluck some cured meat from the tray. I barely taste it as I swallow, eating just enough to lend me strength. We’re quiet while we eat. Alessia is hesitant, picking apart her meat.

“Are you not hungry?” I ask.

“It’s…” Pain flashes across her face. “Something happened recently, and I suppose I don’t trust others’ food.”

Kneeling behind her, I pick up a small wooden bowl and fill it with water. She tilts her head back as I dump the water on her hair, wetting it with careful movements. “What happened?”

Her voice wobbles at first, then the words pour out of her, her pain overflowing the small room .

It takes every ounce of self-control to continue wetting her hair as she tells me how she was poisoned, how Eoin saved her, and how he died.

“I should’ve been there to protect you,” I whisper. I failed her. Lathering white soap in my hands, I work it tenderly through her hair, easing my fingers through the knots. “This is my fault, mo róisín. Everything is my fault.”

Careful not to let my anger manifest in my hands, I take calm breaths to steady my emotions. We’re quiet as I massage her scalp, and her shoulders begin to shake after a few minutes. Quiet sobs come from her body.

I finish rinsing the soap out and quickly strip down to the nude. Slipping into the tub behind her, I pull her to my front and wrap my arms around her. The water is murky brown and tepid, but it makes no difference. She needs me.

And I need her.

She shifts between my legs, brushing against my hardness. I rest my chin atop her head.

“I will never fail you again,” I whisper into her ear.

She leans her head back onto my shoulder, nuzzling her forehead against my neck. Her arms rest on mine around her waist.

“None of this is your fault,” she says dejectedly. “It’s mine. If I never came here, you would still be ruling your court. No one would know about your secrets. You—”

“You’re wrong.” I push my hair back out of my face. “The queen knew about me, about you. She knows everything in her realm.”

“Including about me ,” Alessia murmurs. “She used you to get to me. She wants her health, her power. ”

I don’t believe for a second that Yvanthia is serving in the realm’s best interest. It’s merely a coincidence that her desires align with the realm’s needs.

“Why did you agree to help her?”

“To save your life,” she says so softly that I almost don’t hear it.

“What does she want, exactly?” I already know what, but I want to hear what she told Alessia.

“She wants me to assume my ancestor’s court… their power.” She’s silent for a moment. “All things considered, it feels like I got the better end of the bargain.”

The guilt gives me heartburn. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to find the words to ask Alessia if she knows how her ancestors have historically accepted their dark power. But based on her reaction to my violence with Ezamae, I know she doesn’t.

Telling her right this second won’t change a thing. She deserves a few moments of rest, of peace, considering what she’s been through.

But sooner than later, Alessia will face the price of her bargain.

I do not fear much in this world, but I fear for my little rose right now. Her soft petals make her her ; I am remiss to see her heart harden.

I’ll protect her however I can, but deep down… we both know this is my fault. I should’ve stayed away. If I had succeeded in pushing her away, I would’ve spared her much pain.

It's a strange paradox: her soft heart brings me solace, while my own soft heart brings her anguish.

Love, with its bittersweet nature, is the cruelest of ironies.