All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

T he next morning, House Celestine was preternaturally quiet.

Ariesian Starstorm and his mother, Trysta, had not yet returned from the palace, no doubt in the height of discussion over the previous night’s attack, and while Drake intended to unearth more information as soon as possible, he instead received an invitation for a meeting from none other than Lord Asher Firebane.

He found the lord in question lounging in a high-back chair in the sitting room off the main hall, his ankle propped over one knee, with a book in his lap and a cup of tea in his hand. Asher’s dark gray gaze lifted from the pages spread before him, tracking Drake as he entered the room.

“Fine morning, is it not?” Asher mused, turning one of the pages without so much as glancing at the book.

“Fine enough,” Drake agreed, glancing at the large, arched windows where sheer indigo draperies detailed with beaded stars framed both sides. Golden sunlight spilled into the room, its warm beams stretching for the shadows in which Drake stood, just out of reach.

He lowered himself onto the navy blue sofa across from Asher, his movements formal and precise. The last time they spoke with one another, Drake had been trying to kill him in a battle to the death.

Drake’s mouth twitched.

The fae and their ridiculous customs would never cease to amaze him.

Much to his surprise, Asher seemed more than willing to discuss their past agendas.

“Tell me, Your Highness,” he drawled, closing the book and setting it on the small table next to him. “Have you yet traveled to the Fenmire Bogs?”

Drake stiffened, every muscle in his body tightening at the mention of the wretched, swamp-laden bogs. He knew he would have to venture there eventually, especially if he wanted to destroy the hag who created the vile virdis lepatite , but for some reason he could not quite fathom, the mere thought filled him with a sense of incomprehensible dread.

“I have been slightly preoccupied as of late.”

Asher made a derisive sort of noise and sipped his tea, eyeing Drake from over top the porcelain rim.

Drake’s shoulders bunched, the building tension between them palpable. “Something on your mind, fire fae?”

Asher canted his head to one side. “Not at all, shadow prince.”

“If you have a mind to say something, then speak it now.” Drake leaned into the cushions, casually throwing one arm across the back of the sofa. “I know you, most of all, are not one for idle conversation.”

“Very well.” Asher sat up straight, lowering his cup of tea. His gaze flicked to both entrances of the sitting room and when he spoke, he kept his voice low and laced with urgency. “You must make haste.”

Drake blinked. “Pardon?”

A stern line pinched between Asher’s brows, and he leaned forward, one silver lock of hair falling across his forehead. “You should have left for the Fenmire Bogs as soon as I gave you the location of the virdis lepatite .”

“I do not take orders from you or?—”

“Anyone else?” Asher interjected with a knowing smirk. “I wonder what your pretty new bride would have to say about such matters.”

Drake’s jaw clenched, grinding his teeth.

“Hear me out, Your Highness.” Asher set aside the teacup, positioning his elbows on the arms of the chair, once more casting a cautious look about the room. “If what you’ve said about this gemstone is true, and I’m inclined to believe you given my own research, then you should aim to destroy it and the hag responsible for its creation as soon as possible.”

His tone was too earnest, and he appeared on edge, his body taut with apprehension.

Trepidation gnawed at Drake’s gut. “And what makes you say that?”

“Think of it this way, you saw the destruction it was capable of in Faeven, did you not?” Asher asked, already knowing the answer.

Drake nodded once.

“Imagine if that same kind of diabolical power fell into the hands of Prince Aspen?” The planes of Asher’s face hardened into stone, and his voice was cold when he said, “Or Lady Trysta Starstorm.”

Or Marius.

The absolute havoc King Marius would wreak upon Brackroth, or anywhere else, was unthinkable. There was no doubt in Drake’s mind that he would use magic to erase magic completely if given the opportunity. The man despised anything more powerful than him. He’d been riddled with a kind of madness ever since Zaleria abandoned him.

“It is only a matter of time until word spreads,” Asher continued quietly. “Until those who already hold great power seek even more.”

Damn the fire fae for making such a valid point.

Drake stood abruptly, smoothing his usual attire of riding leathers, and pulled his gloves from his back pocket, tugging them onto his scarred hands. “If you would excuse me, Lord Firebane, I have suddenly become aware of more important matters I need to attend.”

Asher merely inclined his head in acknowledgement, without an ounce of mockery. He plucked his book off the table and returned to reading, but there was no disguising the faint lines of worry etching the corners of his eyes.

Drake exited House Celestine through the main entrance, following the gentle tug on the bond that would lead him to Creslyn. It spiraled through him, wrapping around his heart and squeezing lightly, its soft pulse of life as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. He walked through the gardens, the brisk autumn chill slipping through budding foliage, until he discovered Creslyn sweeping the area near one of the gurgling fountains of liquid starlight, clearing it of debris. Beyond her, Caelian was collecting snapped twigs and shriveled vines, stacking them in a tidy pile in Kjeld’s arms. Sarelle was there as well, along with Solarius and a handful of servants, each of them doing their part to clean away the disaster left behind in the wake of the attack.

Originally, Drake had planned to bring Creslyn to the Fenmire Bogs with him, but now he warred with uncertainty. After last night, he knew she could hold her own, but creepy tree creatures and crawling vines were nothing in comparison to the Runes of Callievan. The coven of witches was far more powerful than a blight of nature, and if Zaleria was among them, then he wanted to keep Creslyn as far away from her as possible. For now, even if another attack loomed on the horizon, Aeramere was the safest place for her.

He would have to make it swift, because she would not stay behind without a fight.

Strolling toward her, he tucked his hands behind his back, then planted a kiss on top of her head. “Morning, wife.”

She paused, leaning her slight weight against the broom in her hands, her lips curving into a warm smile. “Good morning, husband. Have you come to join us in our efforts to clean up this mess?”

“I will soon enough.” He nodded to where Kjeld stood with a stack of broken tree limbs and gnarled vines in his arms. “But first I must speak with Kjeld, and then I need to tend to Svartos and Odryss.”

Mischief sparked in the depths of her deep blue eyes. “I can think of another who requires tending.”

Gods curse him, he was going to miss that smart little mouth of hers.

He smoothed a lock of fallen hair behind the delicate point of her ear, letting one finger trail down her neck, pleased when she shivered. “Wicked little faerie.”

Creslyn merely smirked, then continued sweeping the pathway, and Drake approached Kjeld, hoping he was far enough out of earshot that she would not overhear their conversation.

“General Holtstrom, a word?” He jerked his head toward the line of ornately trimmed evergreens, noticing the way Caelian’s brow lifted in curiosity before she bustled away, pretending to gather more twigs and vines.

Kjeld followed him to the wall of trees whose spindly branches were shaped into miniature spires. His general blew out a breath, tossing a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Whatever it is you need, Your Highness, consider it done.”

It was a good thing Kjeld’s loyalty knew no bounds, because Drake had no doubt that if his general knew exactly what he was going to ask of him, he would have balked at the idea.

“Excellent.” Drake glanced to the mountains looming in the distance, where Svartos waited. “Because I need you to stay here.”

Kjeld’s jaw went slack, then he snapped his mouth shut. Tension bunched along his shoulders, and he adjusted the heap of rubble in his arms. “Stay? Here? In Aeramere?”

“Yes.” Drake eyed him coolly, waiting for the impending argument. “Here. In Aeramere.”

“Your Highness, with all due respect, I am the general of your dragon legion. I belong in Brackroth, the Northernlands are in my blood. I should be flying with the riders, training the young whelps.” He looked down at the bundle of sticks and vines he carried. “Not cleaning up the mess of a fae realm.”

Drake tilted his head. “You could have told her no.”

“I…” Kjeld blinked, then shook his head, strands of his blond hair falling into his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lady Caelian,” Drake mused, thoroughly unimpressed with his general’s pitiful claim of ignorance. “If she asked you to assist this morning, you could have told her no. I’m sure she would have understood if you explained you had more important, general-type things to do. Unless, of course, you wanted to help her.”

“Why would I want to help her?” he grumbled, his trimmed beard doing very little to hide the faint pink stain on his face.

Drake shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Perhaps you fancy her.”

“I have no time for fanciful affairs. Not with a mortal, and certainly not with a fae whom I should likely never see again.” Kjeld’s clear blue gaze narrowed. “My duty to Brackroth, to you, comes first.”

“Then you understand why I need you to stay.” Drake gestured back behind him, toward the gardens. “My contract with Lord Ariesian Starstorm includes my protection. There is no one I trust more to safeguard House Celestine than you.”

Kjeld’s mouth pulled into a tight line, taut with resignation. But he nodded sharply. “Very well, Your Highness. I shall do as you command.”

“Your allegiance does not go unnoticed, general.” Drake dipped his chin in acknowledgement, then lowered his voice. “The matter regarding the Fenmire Bogs requires my attention at once. I will be taking Svartos and leaving immediately.”

Kjeld’s eyes widened. “Your Highness?—”

Drake lifted one hand to silence him. “I know I said I would take Lady Creslyn with me, but?—”

“Take me where?” a feminine voice piped up from behind him.

Damn.

He turned slowly to find Creslyn standing behind him, curiosity etched into the soft planes of her face. Beside her was Caelian, and though she bore no expression of having heard their discussion, her gaze was fastened onto Kjeld, the brilliance of her eyes unreadable.

“Where are we going?” Creslyn asked, drawing his attention back to the task at hand.

“ We are not going anywhere.” He maneuvered around her, determined to keep his distance. The sooner he got away from her, the better. If he stayed any longer, he would undoubtedly give in to her. He was too easily swayed when it came to her.

“You intend to just leave me here?” She kept pace alongside him, practically jogging to match his long stride, her skirts of shimmering pink swishing around her. “Was this your plan all along, to abandon me without even saying goodbye?”

Yes.

Though he would not tell her as much.

Creslyn darted in front of him, blocking his path. She fisted her hands on her hips, glaring up at him, accusation coloring the deep hue of her eyes. “Answer me.”

Drake grabbed both of her shoulders, lifted her off her feet, then planted her to the side, out of his way. “You are staying here with your family, while I attend to business elsewhere.”

“I most certainly am not.” She lurched forward, curling one hand into his leather vest as though she intended to hold him in place.

Though admirable, her physical strength would never be a match to his own.

Yet he remained still, letting her think she held the upper hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Creslyn…”

“I am going with you.” She angled her chin upward in defiance.

A dull ache was beginning to form at his temples, spreading to the base of his neck. “You must understand, kearsta . Where I am going, it is not safe.”

“You always say that,” she countered.

“Because it is true.”

She shook her head, fueled with determination. “Have you ever once stopped to think that perhaps I already know it might be egregiously dangerous, and that I simply no longer care?”

Drake stared at her.

“Danger does not frighten me. Pain, suffering…that is nothing compared to how I feel when I am without you.” She jabbed him in the chest with her finger, driving her point home. “I am not just your wife. I am your mate .”

“Are you always this stubborn?” Drake muttered, annoyed by his own inability to hold his own against her. Creslyn would be his ultimate downfall. His demise. The ground he stood upon quaked and crumbled beneath the weight of his desire to please her. To see her…happy.

It was strange, this sudden sensation that had seized ahold of his heart, clutching it like a vise. Originally, he’d thought it was the bond binding them, but now he wondered if it was something else altogether.

“Only with you,” she snapped, her voice tart. “Usually I am quite agreeable.”

Solarius chose that exact moment to stroll past them, carrying a pile of debris in his arms. He scoffed at Creslyn’s claim. “Unlikely.”

She scowled at her brother, then turned that pretty little sulk on Drake. “You do not get to decide what I am capable of handling and what I am not.”

Drake rolled his shoulders back, aware that every pair of eyes in the gardens were focused on them. “Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere?”

“No, I don’t think we shall.” Creslyn folded her arms across her chest, glancing around as everyone watched their disagreement unfold. The sun’s rays bounced off her silver, faintly rainbow-hued hair, cloaking her in golden radiance, nearly reaching the shadows of his own making. “It may not have been your intent to patronize me in front of my family, but here we are. Did you honestly think I would not care, that I would simply curtsy and bow like a good little wife, and acquiesce to your demands? That I would let you leave me again , even after our previous discussions on the matter?”

He gritted his teeth, roughing a hand over his face in an effort to hide his growing displeasure. “You are infuriating.”

“So, now you’ve taken to insulting me?” She heaved a breath, her breasts swelling against the beaded bodice of her gown, and the blue of her eyes deepened to near black. “Tell me, dear husband, is this how it will always be, then? If I do not yield to your bidding, will you disparage me until I submit?”

Drake’s temper flared. He bent his head low, meeting her furious glare with one of his own. “What has gotten into you?”

“Forgive me,” she hissed, her voice threaded with quiet rage. “I thought you were different, but you are not. You are just like them.”

Drake stared at her. “Come again?”

He was not accustomed to being compared to anyone.

“I thought you saw my value, my worth. I thought you saw what others could not, that I was capable, that I was more .” Her bottom lip quivered just slightly, and she bit it, hard enough that he thought the two tiny points of her incisors were sure to draw blood. “I learned to wield both dagger and sword, in a blasted gown no less, because you believed I could do it. Because I so mistakenly thought you believed in me. It would appear I was wrong.”

Creslyn sniffed, straightening, blinking away the sheen of unshed tears. “You are exactly as you claim. A monster of the cruelest kind, who, like so many others, fails to keep his word.”

Her accusation pierced him with a blinding heat, like a serrated blade shredding through him.

“Mind your tongue, wife,” he growled, his fingernails biting into his palms.

“Or what? You’ll cut it out?” She arched a cunning brow, her untamable wrath coaxing his own to the surface. “I do believe that was your threat when we first met, was it not?”

“It was indeed.” Drake snared her by the chin, his grip fierce. When he spoke again, his voice was a menacing whisper. “Much like how you claimed you were rather fond of using it, and yet, I have seen no such proof.”

Creslyn’s lashes fluttered back, her lips parted slightly, and a flush bled into her cheeks all the way up to the tip of her ears.

There would be no escaping her.

Drake released her then straightened, turning to address all the prying eyes. “Lady Creslyn and I will return to Aeramere eventually, after I have conducted my business. As to when exactly, I cannot say.”

With that, he released the fullness of his shadows, thick and suffocating. Then he grabbed Creslyn by the arm and dragged her into them.

He sensed her rise of panic through the bond, it simmered between them, crackling with a fierce sort of energy. Her thoughts were a torrent, a plague of confusion, mistrust, and doubt. But he did not care. If she wanted to travel with him, then so be it, but she would do so under his conditions.

They moved through the spaces of shade, the patches of darkness that spilled from beneath tree and mountain. Coldness enveloped them, and again she shuddered, but he ignored her discomfort, and that grip on his heart eased. His kindness would not extend to her now, not when she so blatantly meant to enrage him. Not until she could admit he was not the true source of her pain.

Svartos came into view on the northernmost ledge of the Moonfall Peaks, tossing his head, his bright yellow eyes tracking his master’s arrival. Drake emerged from the shadows that spiraled around him, hauling Creslyn along behind him. Svartos snorted once, his breath misting before him like a heavy fog. His black scales glimmered like obsidian. His spiked tail lashed out, smacking into the wall of the mountain and sending bits of rock crumbling down. If Drake didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn the beast’s eyes narrowed.

Of course the damned dragon would be on her side.

Beside him, Creslyn stumbled, tripping over a fallen stone. Drake caught her by the waist, then hoisted her into the air, depositing her unceremoniously onto the seat on Svartos’s back.

“We’re leaving now ?” She rubbed her arms, the length of her silken sleeves flowing like ribbons around her. “But I did not pack. I did not get a chance to say goodbye.”

“You cannot have it both ways, solysa .” Drake climbed up, positioning himself directly behind her. “If you come with me, we leave now. If you want to say your goodbyes, then you say them to me, and you stay behind in Aeramere. Every choice you make defines you.”

He adjusted her legs, so they fell to one side, partially over his own, then he snaked one arm around her waist, the other hand taking hold of Svartos’s reins. Bending forward, he placed his mouth near her ear, already knowing she would refuse to leave him.

Then he whispered, “But do not, for one moment, think you are being honest with me. I know you claimed me as your mate, I know your magic calls to mine, and I know you are lying to yourself.”

Creslyn turned slightly, lifting her face to his. The shock in her gaze was fleeting, there for only a second before being replaced by something else. A plea of some kind, an emotion he did not recognize.

He stared at her, into the depths of her shadowed soul. “I have seen the darkness you so desperately try to hide from others, and I will not settle for only the pieces of you that you’re willing to share. Until you embrace all that you truly are, do not ever attempt to scorn me again. At least I own the truth of my character.”

Her eyes filled, but no tears fell.

“I gave you all of me,” he continued, “volatile immorality, blackened heart, and cursed soul. It is you who are holding back, you who have yet to accept all you are capable of becoming.”

Drake eased back, pulling her snugly against him, then spoke one word.

“ Vaeja .”