Bounty Hunter (The Black Tulip Chronicles #1)

10. Ikar

Chapter 10

Ikar

I excuse my personal servants, in no mood for any help with preparations for bed. It’s not like I’ll be sleeping anyway. I sit in my favorite leather chair, hunched forward with my forearms braced on my thighs. Simon crows from an enormous tree branch that seems to sprout directly from the wall. Arrow lays his head in my lap. I call him a wolf, but really, he appears to be a cross between a wolf and a bit of dog, with some hints of an armored creature, evidenced by the hard armor-like layer that covers his back, hidden beneath his wiry fur. His teeth and face have the appearance of a wolf, but his ears come to sharp silver points that split two ways, maybe another gift from his armored history. I don’t know, but he’s a loyal beast. I carefully scratch behind one of his ears as my mind drifts.

I leave tomorrow morning. I think Arrow can sense it. I have put off telling Nadiette. I have to say something before I leave, which means there are only hours until I have to tell her, the woman I’ve come to care for and the woman my people expect me to be with, that I can’t marry her. If things were different, we could have the celebration I know she’s already been planning. To be honest, that the entire kingdom has been planning. Talks of having the cathedral church decorated in the finest silks, the design of her dress, and the light blue flowers that would be in her bouquet…

We’ve been in the same circles for years. We grew up together, so it’s only natural that we’d seek marriage with how we so easily get along and the attraction we share. We have an easy companionship, hours upon hours of conversation, and seem to balance each other in just the right ways as a future king and queen should. It would be too easy to simply go forward and marry her. My people would be happy, I would be happy in some respects, but it can’t be. It seems our being together really was too good to be true. I don’t worry about if she’ll marry or not. She’s a beautiful, cultured woman, and I have no doubt that once she’s known to be free of me that many others will seek her attention. A hint of jealousy flares in my chest.

I rest my head against the back of my chair and stare up at the crisscrossing beams of the high ceiling. Hopefully by morning, I have the words to say. All I know is my heart must be locked before I see her, or she will be mine and my kingdom’s undoing. If I marry her, I may have a short lived joy, but my kingdom and people will disintegrate beneath my fingertips. I groan and run a hand through my hair in frustration.

I have to remember why . The faces of the soldiers who’ve died from the gloam attacks flash through my mind in random order. Men with families, children, parents, siblings. All mourning. Funeral after funeral. And then the people who’ve died just trying to pull magic for every day, mundane things. Usually, children, the sick, or the elderly. More funerals. The continual sight of so many fresh graves, the mounds of dark dirt contrasted with the deep green of grass. Our crops grow smaller every year, the weather patterns are getting more unpredictable and further decimating our kingdom’s food sources. It’s like a horror story that never ends and only grows worse. I’m helpless to stop it if I continue my current path. I may not know where to start, how to find a strange flower or a Queen of the Night, but it’s something I can do . I have a mission. I feel an infinitesimal drop of hope, made smaller by the knowledge of the feats I must accomplish, but it’s hope, nonetheless.

“A Black Tulip?” Nadiette says, disdain lacing her voice. She can’t stop the lethal mixture of anger and disbelief from rising in her frown. “Tulips are obsolete, nonexistent. Everyone knows that.”

She reaches out and wraps her hand around my arm, and I clench my jaw, purposefully unresponsive to her familiarity.

She narrows her eyes. “You and I together, Ikar. We can overcome it all. We are the two most powerful people in the kingdom.” She infuses hope into her tone, and I feel my expression instinctively soften as my guilt attempts to choke me. I’ve heard this so many times. She doesn’t realize that what she’s always believed is untrue, and now is not the time to argue with her. But she seems to misinterpret my expression and uses it to fuel her next words. “Originators are the modern Tulips. You know that. How is a Tulip better than I?” Her chin lifts in challenge with her words.

I clench my jaw again. This conversation is going as horribly as I assumed it would. “Not better, per se. Different. And different is what duty requires.”

“I am not naive. I have seen firsthand the death and destruction caused by magic untamed, but I refuse to believe there is no other way. You don’t need a Tulip. You need me .” Her eyes are as fiery as her hair now.

I find myself frowning at her response, unsure how to proceed.

Her hand still remains clasped around my bicep, but now she closes the last few steps, and in the next second, her lips find mine. We’ve kissed many times, and I respond instinctively, but just as quickly, I pull away.

The emotion in her eyes is so raw and clear as she searches my gaze that I have to look away. She needs to believe that I do want this duty or she will continue to hold out hope. I gently ease my arm from her grasp and place my hands on her shoulders, matching her gaze. “I will always need you as an Originator for my people, and I hope you will continue to serve them in your position. But in any other way, we can never be. As High King, my duty is to my people, and right now, that duty is to find a Tulip.” I drop my hands from her shoulders, feeling like I’ve pressed a hot iron to my palms. Her magic must be building with her emotion. I watch as she takes a breath, clasps and unclasps her hands, and then when she looks back up at me, it is a look in contradiction to the hurt that only moments ago filled her eyes.

“So, I must be creative to make you mine,” she says flirtatiously.

It falls flat when I refuse to respond as usual and the moment turns awkward. Before she can continue to attempt to persuade me otherwise, a servant hurries down the hall toward us.

“Your Majesty.” He gives a light bow and hands me a rolled scroll, then the servant acknowledges her with a slight nod. I turn away slightly to read in privacy, and, after only seconds, allow it to roll up with a snap.

I look into her eyes. “I must go. I wish you the best, Nadiette. You will always be a cherished friend.” With a final, stiff nod, I turn and stride away.

I walk toward Jethonan’s work room. It was he who sent the message that I should meet him there, unknowingly rescuing me from the conversation with his impeccable timing. I’ll make sure to thank him for it. That conversation has been a weight I’ve been dreading, and I feel a sense of relief now that it’s done, though I can’t say that she took it well. I hope with time she accepts it and we can maintain our friendship. The kingdom will still need her, even after I’ve bridged with a Tulip.

I knew it would be uncomfortable. I’ve had a few weeks to process the fact we can’t be together, and she’s had only moments. I hadn’t planned on the kiss, but when she had leaned in, it felt natural to return it. It wasn’t sensual or heated in any way, and I’d intentionally kept it short, bundling all the years of courtship into a final goodbye. It seemed appropriate at the time, but now I’m not so sure. I hope she feels the same closure I feel.

Soon enough, I’m at the door to his office. I knock once and enter. I never know what to expect when I enter Jethonan’s work room, but it’s not this. The absence of odd smells, fumes, extreme temperatures, and general mess is odd, and I’m not sure what to think. My hand instinctively goes for my sword as I turn, knowing the only way this room could be clean is if something terrible happened to my advisor. I don’t sense an enemy, but oddly, I do sense an unseen mess around me. It’s disconcerting, my vision and intuition at war. I shrug it off due to the fact that I’ve never seen this room clean since before I hired him. I cautiously glance around, then take an uneasy seat in my usual chair near the bookcases. But before I’ve fully sat back, Jethonan enters the room from a door to the left in a flurry of rushing robes. I release the handle of my sword finally, relieved that he appears alive and well.

He showcases the cleanliness of his office with a broad sweep of his hands. “Does it meet your satisfaction, my lord?” He smiles smugly, and I’m wondering what’s gotten in to him.

“Thought you’d been murdered,” I mumble. “Who did this?” I look around, suspicious.

“I did, of course.” Jethonan’s smile only grows more smug.

“Impossible.”

“Your lack of faith in my ability to tidy up is astounding.”

A grin twists my lips, but then my vision seemingly flickers, and I glimpse the usual mess that is Jethonan’s work room beneath… what ? It’s gone before I can blink. But it’s there, it’s around me. I can sense it, but I can’t see it. Now I understand why he wasn’t more offended at my disbelief. I grip the arm of the chair and lean forward, narrowing my eyes. Born with hunter magic, my senses are naturally heightened, my vision more than excellent when I want it to be. I pull a bit of magic, testing whatever magic creation he’s used here, but all looks neat and clean.

“What did you do to this room?” I ask, astounded. “Is it a shield?”

Now that satisfactory grin is back on his face. “It works!” He whispers a charm word, and whatever it is that masked his office disappears. I’m instantly assaulted by a smoky, burn-tinged aroma mixed with a strong floral-spicy scent and a lingering hint of the ever-present sour smell that I have come to believe has been baked into the castle walls .

I grimace. “Please tell me you haven’t attempted the healing potion again.”

“Ah, yes. I’m very close with that, but that’s not what I’ve been working on.” He turns to his table, and I hear clinking glass, a sizzling sound, and something hard rolls across the surface. Then there’s a shuffle of papers before he turns back around with a vial between his fingers.

“The fae are masters of the glamour, naturally. They commonly use it to further their criminal activities, as you know.”

I gather my patience, knowing how he enjoys drawing out these conversations.

“You’ll be easily recognized on your journey, which could endanger you and possibly even prevent you from accomplishing the tasks. Your people love you so much you’ll be accosted by well-wishers and be entirely unproductive. To combat that, I’ve created a perfect match for fae glamour.” He hands me the vial, and I hesitantly take it, holding it up to look closer at the liquid inside. I’ve seen and even used fae glamour before, but it’s always come directly from the fae.

“Have you tested this?” I ask doubtfully.

“Of course. Three times, to be exact.” He sounds offended that I even asked. “Its only limitations are those that also apply to the fae and their natural glamours. No one will recognize you.”

I clap him on the shoulder, “Thank you, Jethonan. This is just what I needed.” I toss the bottle lightly in the air and then catch it as I stride across the room, eager to be away from the aroma assaulting my nostrils. I pause by the door and turn. “How long will it last?”

“Three weeks, at least. I’ll send another with you, just in case. ”

“And it won’t kill me or turn me into gloam, right?” I’m only slightly serious.

Jethonan’s lips press flat, and he doesn’t respond. I pull the door shut behind me with a chuckle. For the first time, I feel eager to leave. I head straight to my office and scrawl two messages, one to Darvy and one to Rhosse, each with only four words.

We leave at sunrise.