Sapphire Falls (The Lost Realm #2)

17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Savine

S avine sat on the carved wooden throne. The wood was worn in places where his ancestors had rubbed the grain smooth and the bumps from the inlaid jewels hurt his ass. He was considering commissioning a new throne for himself and Avery, but perhaps that was thinking too far ahead. Avery was too disinterested with the crown, so he wouldn’t push the role on her. Besides, most rulers of Latiah didn’t have their spouse or soulmate rule alongside them. Perhaps it was best that he continued a long tradition of ruling on his own.

The joyous homecoming had lasted less than a day before Savine felt the magnitude of what he was stepping into as King of Latiah. A little over two weeks had passed since Savine arrived in Orofine and he wanted nothing more than a few quiet moments by himself. But try as he might, he wasn’t getting that time. Perhaps it was for the best to be this busy without Avery by his side. Once she was here, he would demand some time for her alone, away from the incessant pleas and requests from noble families and city folk.

A fae from a migratory band was speaking to him now about their concern over their band’s winter supplies. Under Jasper’s rule, migratory groups were no longer able to travel freely and had struggled to adjust to a stationary lifestyle. It was no surprise that folk accustomed to hunting and gathering would not be able to take up growing crops. Savine felt compassion for the displaced fae. But it was like this every day, hearing the stories of how his father had harmed his own people, weakening his own nation until they were a shell of the once powerful nation.

The only bright side was that Jasper’s greed was helping solve the imbalance in their society now. The former king had stockpiles of supplies—grains, dried meat, fish, fruit, extra furs, weapons, and oddly more sanitary cloth for wiping shit than any nation could ever need.

“We will support your band of fae through the winter. You may take whatever stock from our supplies here in Orofine that you will need to survive the winter, then you are free to return to your way of life. There is no longer a decree against migratory groups roaming Latiah freely.”

The man bowed. His fur cape slid forward as he rose again. “You are a just and kind king.”

Savine gave a small bow and motioned for his cup. Darby was there beside him with a hot cup of tea and he took it eagerly.

“How many more today?” he whispered. After this he had a meeting with his preliminary council, then was expected to oversee the preparations for the Night of Feasts.

“Three, Your Majesty,” Darby said as she took the cup back from Savine.

Savine shifted in his seat before the next fae entered the room. He looked to his side to the guards beside him. He hadn’t said anything to Avery because he’d never want to hurt her, but he missed Weston. Weston was not only his guard, but had been his friend for many years, even if he’d never admitted it to him. It was one of those things he knew he had to work on if he was to be a good king. Letting the people who mattered know that they did matter. These new guards, while still his rebel warriors, weren’t men or women that he’d been close to.

Savine adjusted his long strands back behind his crown, then gestured for another subject to be admitted.

The woman who entered the throne room was old—older than many of the fae remaining in Orofine, with weathered skin and tattered furs. He didn’t have to hear from her to know that she had been struggling when she should be nearing her rest. The fur essence under her skin was so faded that it appeared little more than scuffs.

She walked slowly, cane in hand and he stood, walking to offer his hand as support.

“A chair. Now.” Immediately, one of the guards was dragging a chair over for the woman. She sank into the seat and looked up at him with milky white eyes. Either she was losing her vision, or she was a seer. He could hear murmurs from the nobles in attendance, but didn’t listen if they were in respect or disdain for his actions.

“My King,” she croaked with a bow. Savine bowed out of reverence for the old woman.

“Grandmother, I am honored to have you in my home. What can I help you with?” Savine said as he took his seat on the throne.

“I am the last of my family line. My sons, daughters, and granddaughter were killed by your rebels in the war across the pass. My soul yearns to enter its rest, but there is nobody to care for my body as I release my essence to Althea.”

Savine breathed in deeply. This wasn’t an uncommon story, and he knew there was so little he could do to bring comfort to those left behind after the conflict. The old woman continued, “My granddaughter was the last to die. It’s said she died at your own hands during the final conflict. You, we have heard, used the Goddess’ deep magic, ripped from the very ground by a witch and fed into you. You cut down your own people indiscriminately with a force beyond what any fae should possess.”

Savine’s jaw ticked, tension growing in his body and he looked to the guards beside him. Already, they had their hands on their swords. “That is true. War is a mighty and terrible thing, and I must carry the souls of those I killed in the war for the rest of my days.”

The ancient woman began quietly laughing to herself as she rocked in her seat. “And you think you are better than King Jasper? You, slayer of your own blood?”

The woman transformed with such speed Savine didn’t have time to react before a great mountain lion was sinking her fangs into his throat. He reached for his essence and with a snap of his hands, he pressed rigid thorns around the old cat’s throat. The cat’s claws sunk into his shoulder and she tightened her hold on his neck as he pressed more of his essence into her. There was no way in the Abyss that he’d let this old woman kill him. Not now that he’d finally overcome his father. His essence rocked through him and filled the woman with so many brambles and thorns that it was impossible for anything to survive in that state.

He opened his eyes and saw the guards surround them, pressing swords into the old lady’s body. Her shifted form went slack against him and Savine pushed the dead mountain lion off him, standing to see his bloodied clothes and hands. A few of the courtiers gasped at his appearance as Savine walked toward the side door, Darby and his guards at his side.

“Leave me!” he shouted. “I’ll be fine.” Savine stalked through the residence, gasping horror from onlookers as he went to his rooms. Although he wanted to be alone, he knew guards were following close behind him.

“Savine! Wait!” Darby shouted. “Let me call a healer for you! Your neck, it’s punctured.”

Savine waved his hand in her direction. “I’ll be in my rooms.”

Once he was alone in his rooms he looked at his injuries in the mirror. Bruising was already forming under his fur cloak. He threw the garment to the ground, inspecting the puncture wounds around his neck and shoulders. The old woman had done all she could to assassinate him, risking her soul to the Abyss to do it, yet she had been far too weak and frail. While she’d attacked with what little essence her body possessed, the assault would have never killed a strong fae in the prime of his life like him. If only he could have helped her—provided her with a safe place to take her rest, then he could have saved her from her own bloody end.

He couldn’t blame the woman for attacking him. She was right, he’d indiscriminately killed many loyalists that day, and perhaps he would pay for it now that he was back in the capital.

A knock at the door sounded before Darby entered, accompanied by a healer with Bayberry features. She cleaned the wound quickly before healing the damaged skin. It was, as Savine suspected, a minor injury. After Savine dismissed her, he asked Darby to stay.

“What do the folk say about my mate, Avery? Tell me everything.”

Darby’s face twitched and she wrung her hands as she took a deep breath. “The former loyalists see you as the true king. They respect the right of your rule, but there’s been whispers, even amongst your own warriors, about the power of the two sisters in Aeritis. They say King Rylo shared a prophecy about them, and the folk are afraid and distrust these women. I even heard one of them killed King Jasper with some kind of small explosion.”

Savine clenched his hands and felt the pressure in his jaw. “They see Avery and her sister as an enemy to the fae?”

Darby was quiet as she looked toward the ground. “Many do after what everyone witnessed during that final battle. There are many rumors that have circled around about the role she played in filling you with deep magic. And others fear them because of what the witch did to King Jasper.”

Savine pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose before he looked up at Darby. “My soulmate will be here in less than one week! I want no one who could cause her harm in this residence. Give a list of the fae who have started these rumors to Garnel and Raikin. Have Garnel deal with the rebels and Raikin with the others. Thank you for your help, Darby. You may go.”

Darby looked at him with a sad expression, but said nothing as she made her way to the door. Savine turned and looked out the window at the city below. He wasn’t going to let Avery come to harm. Not after all he’d been through to finally have a soulmate.

He searched for that connection between them. It was so faint, like a tiny piece of him that could so easily be erased if he wasn’t careful with it. He mentally tugged on that bond just as Avery had done the day before. He thought of her tight curves, the swelling peaks and dips of her human body. He remembered the way she’d moaned under his touch and his tongue, then he sent all his wanting need down the bond to her.

Minutes later, he was hit with a surge of need that made him hard just feeling how badly Avery wanted him in return.

Only a few days left before she would be his.