To Scale the Emerald Mountain (The Willowbane Saga #1)

31. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

ELLYA

I can feel Alec when we return.

The energy of his aura begins humming—radiating towards me—before Cescily leaves me at the door with all my new shopping bags. She bounds across the courtyard, past the jade pool, and enters through a door of an adjacent residential wing.

Suddenly, I’m nervous as I start to walk down the hall towards the staircase. I’m half hoping if I move quickly, I might be able to avoid Alec and shut myself away in my room. But when I reach the open doorway to a downstairs sitting room, my feet stop in their tracks and I turn to face him.

There he is, sitting with one leg extended across the couch in loose black pants and a tight black shirt. Casual and comfortable. A piece of onyx hair is falling loose over Alec’s forehead as he focuses seriously on a book, tracing the tip of a finger through his beard.

My breath hitches; his nostrils flare infinitesimally.

Without looking up Alec asks, “Did you enjoy your time with Cessy, my clove?”

I’m about to answer when he barely gives me a glance, then quickly does a double take. Alec’s book slips through his fingers and drops to the floor with a soft thump .

His eyes widen a fraction.

“What?” I ask innocently.

Alec swallows once and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He scans me head to toe and swallows again.

He swings his leg over the edge of the couch and reaches to pick up his book, his intense gaze never leaving me. “Please, sit with me.”

My traitorous feet follow his request, as if he is their true master. I drop my ample bags to the floor and sit in the chair opposite him.

Alec swallows a third time before he looks at the bags I dropped, furrowing his brow.

“Did the guards at the door not offer to carry those for you?” I shake my head in denial. Alec sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Just more guards to replace,” he says under his breath.

Alec drops his hand, his eyes focus on my mouth, his pupils blooming wide. He tears his gaze away from my face and resituates himself on the couch, back to his relaxed position.

“I hope Cescily did not make you think you were obligated to spend time with her.” His eyes dance over my face.

“She didn’t. I had fun,” I tell him honestly.

“I am glad. She has been wanting to come see you for some time, but I did not want you to be overwhelmed. Cescily can be… intense.”

My brows lift with bewilderment and I laugh. “ You can be intense.”

Alec’s smile spreads, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Yes. I suppose I can.” He points towards my bags. “Did you find all that you need?” I nod with a soft smile that he returns. “I am glad. I have been meaning to do something about replacing everything you threw out, but I find the days getting away from me. Forgive me.”

Alec’s honesty takes me by surprise. I clear my throat and change the subject.

“You speak differently from your brother and sister,” I redirect, focusing on his significantly more formal dialect compared to his siblings. “Why?”

Alec smirks and pulls forward his case of cigarettes across the polished wood table, pausing briefly with a smile, waiting to see if I stop him again. When I don’t, he pulls one out and lights it, exhaling a thick plume of smoke that drifts lazily towards the ceiling.

“It was apparent from the start that my brothers and I could not be tutored together. The set of personal tutors I had was an elderly couple, their daughter, and her husband. All from the Gleisheon Territory of the Mother Continent.”

I raise a brow at him. “So, you had fancy tutors.”

Alec throws his head back and laughs, a sound as rich as chocolate. “Yes, I suppose even by royal standards, I had fancy tutors.” He gives me a knowing smile. “Just like you had fancy weapons training.”

I can’t help but grin right back at him.

Alec leans back, settling in further before he continues. “The Gleisheon Territory is well known for more than housing the willowbane tree, they have a unique dialect, not speaking in contractions. I spent so much of my time during my early years with those tutors that it bled over to me. It has remained all these years.” He pauses and then adds, “Your mother spoke very similarly to how I do, being from Gleisheon. ”

“I like it,” my mouth admits eagerly. I clamp my tongue between my teeth.

Alec licks his full lips before giving me a confident smirk. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yes. You have told me many times that you love the way I speak, as well as the sound of my voice. It is why you would beg me to continue reading to you late into the night. Why you were adamant I continue to teach you history even when you were well past being a girl.”

The admission sheds new light to his rapid spouting of ancient Rayveesh, practically admitting that he did it on purpose, knowing I would enjoy hearing it. And he was right.

I swallow thickly. “What are you reading now?”

Alec leans forward and picks up his discarded book off the table. He studies the cover intently, then runs two of his long, graceful fingers slowly down the spine with such loving concentration before cracking it.

The motion is so oddly sensual—an image pops into my head of him repeating the motion down my bare back with the same slow and careful precision, his warm breath brushing against my shoulder.

I shiver.

Alec moves his eyes to me. A slow, cocky smile graces his face.

Heat creeps up my neck, my blush spreading across my cheeks.

“Do not be embarrassed, Elly,” Alec says gently, heat dousing his stare. “We are made for each other.” He leans forward, that lock of hair dancing dangerously over his brow .

I imagine sauntering across the room, straddling his lap, his large hands bracketing my waist, and pushing it back before running my hands through his thick, silken hair.

“I bet you are wondering what it will be like when I run my fingers slowly down the skin of your back.” Alec’s lower lip indents, his teeth subtly pulling it in. “I am wondering how deliciously you will shiver for me when I trace your spine with my tongue,” he whispers, his molten eyes piercing through me.

I fight the urge to rub my thighs together, to give myself away to how deeply he affects me even more than I already have, feeling hot and dizzy.

Alec abruptly leans back to his original position, gracefully stretching his long leg back across the couch with lithe, feline movements. A predatory smile lives on in his eyes. “But I am reading about the boring history of notable trade deals with the Mother Continent.”

“Do you ever miss it there?” I find myself asking, slightly breathless.

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, I do not. I enjoyed my time there, but it was never my home. Quinndohs will always be my home. It is beautiful there, and interesting, but it can also be dangerous.”

“How so?”

An impossibly long ash falls to the floor from Alec’s forgotten cigarette. He brings his attention to it and takes a deep drag before putting it out and lighting another. “Our way of life here in the three Kingdoms is considered archaic to the people of the Mother Continent.”

I cock my head to the side. “Why? ”

“We have a much smaller population, far less land, but nearly all of our population has magical abilities and gifts. With our much longer lifespans, we have tended to progress at a slower rate—deeply steeped in tradition. Those traditions easily carry as multiple generations’ life spans overlap one another, at least until the Culling. Our three Kingdoms are seen as separate entities, but we essentially rule together. Our people look out for each other. There is virtually no poverty, crime pales in comparison to some Territories of the Mother Continent.”

Alec clears his throat and picks up his glass of whiskey. Two of his long fingers cradle his cigarette resting on the side of the glass as he takes a drink. “Would you like me to continue?” he asks, and I nod enthusiastically

Alec smiles wide at my encouragement. “Very well. The gifts of the populations on the Mother Continent have been greatly diluted over time. A small fraction of their people has enough magical ability to be considered powerful, and those people take up a fair percentage of the general elite and governing classes. In many Territories, there are as many slums as middle class neighborhoods. There are far fewer affluent neighborhoods than you are used to seeing here. Crime and sickness are rampant in many areas.”

“That’s horrible,” I interrupt rudely.

Alec doesn’t seem to mind and nods his head in agreement.

“It is. Even more so when you see it for yourself. With the absence of magical abilities, the people of the Mother Continent have invented all sorts of machinery to afford luxuries that come to us through our abilities and everyone working together. Where we draw our energy and channel it from the sun, the moon, the earth, their non magical populations mine the physical elements to create energy they need. Unlike the Queendom of Salhaas, who is very particular about mining their magical elements from the earth, the Territories are shameless in what they take. It is quite dirty.”

Alec watches me and draws on his cigarette, the ember flaring bright as he pulls before putting it out.

I watch him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. I can’t help myself. His voice is so very soothing, wrapping around me like warm honey, and his telling is incredibly interesting.

Alec pauses, as if weighing the words he is about to say. “It can be dangerous in the Territories for anyone, but especially for women with magical backgrounds.”

His words sound ominous, and I ask him to elaborate.

“At one point, it was common for women to be stolen and held captive for breeding. They were usually killed when booming birth rates would slow, as their captors often would not live long enough to see the next boom. The lawmakers of the Territories finally cracked down on the illegal breeding rings when tourism plummeted. The orphans left behind were sent here, to The Capital. Few rings remain but most of those captives still come here when they are freed.”

I gape at him in horror. “That’s barbaric.”

Alec nods at me with agreement. “Desperate people often do barbaric things.”

“And you were a mercenary in this horrible place?” I ask, my words dripping with disbelief and he laughs. The rumbling sound thoroughly warms me.

“I was. For many years.”

“What—someone would just hand you a bag of coin and a name and you’d just go kill them?” I ask with humor.

Alec doesn’t hold a shred of shame as he says, “Essentially, yes. ”

“Did you ever kill any innocents?”

“Probably. As I said, desperate people will do barbaric things.”

He smiles at me sadly as I fiddle with my fingers.

“What were you desperate for, Alec?”

Alec’s chest swells when his name leaves my lips, like the sound is pulling back up something that had been trampled down. His eyes rove over me, and one side of his mouth quirks up. “To feel alive.” A fire in his eyes dances as he gazes at me with intention—fully alive.

My chest squeezes. My lungs can’t pull in air. “I should go.” My words are barely discernible.

“I would prefer it if you stayed,” Alec tells me softly, staring at me with desperate and pleading eyes.

“I’m tired, Alec.” Fire burns in my aching chest.

He seems like he wants to argue with me, but he concedes. “Of course.”

Alec stands when I do. As I start collecting my bags, his warm hand closes over mine, pulling my shopping towards himself.

“I can do that,” I begin hastily but he cuts me off.

“I insist.”

I silently follow Alec upstairs and into my dressing room where he deposits my purchases. He pauses, as if reluctant to leave. He turns away from the dressing room and exits with me following him, watching his wide back. Alec again pauses in the doorway and turns back to me to ask, “Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

He pauses again and swallows nervously. “I really enjoyed our conversation, Ellya.”

Before I can stop myself, I smile at him and say, “Me too, Alec.” Now that I've said his name, I can't seem to stop.

When he leaves, I sink to my bed and hold my face in my hands while my anguish leaks from my eyes.

The next morning I wake to find a large bouquet of assorted flowers, tied tight with a piece of black ribbon on my nightstand, their floral scent perfuming the air.

My heart squeezes painfully.

I shouldn’t have stayed with Alec and Kraeston at the library. I should have gone straight to my chambers yesterday, rather than stayed to talk to Alec, allowing myself to get lost in his orbit.

It’s early, barely past dawn, but my racing mind can’t go back to sleep. I consider calling for breakfast but decide to go down to the kitchen and maybe work off some of this anxious energy creeping in by preparing something myself. My feet pad through my chambers to the hall. The dim silence of the palace is peaceful. Serene.

Arriving at the kitchen, I swing the door wide before stopping in my tracks. Alec is leaning arrogantly against the counter, smiling wide like he sensed me coming.

He likely did.

Alec lowers his large cup of coffee, his hair wet and shining like an ink pot. He’s wearing an incredibly unforgiving pair of loose black pants. Nothing else. My eyes roam from his face, down his scarred chest, to where the low slung fabric on his waist meets bare skin, dark hair, tight muscles.

“Good morning, Ellya,” Alec purrs, his voice silky smooth.

My eyes pop back up to his and he offers me a dazzling smile.

I scowl at him and fold my arms tight. His face instantly falls .

“Of course, you’re here,” I spit, scrambling for my anger that’s quickly slipping through the cracks to let me loose in a dangerous place.

Alec composes himself and takes another drink of coffee. “I do live here.”

Busying myself, I begin making tea. He comes behind me and deftly plucks the kettle from my hands. “I’m capable of making myself tea.” I offer him a cutting glare.

Alec smirks at me, heating me further. “I am aware that you are quite capable of doing things for yourself, but I like to do it.”

“I came down here to make breakfast for something to do.”

He doesn’t back down. “Then we will do it together.”

My heart flutters. I clear my throat, trying to steady myself. “Do kings usually make themselves breakfast?” I ask coolly.

Alec chuckles. “Do princesses?”

I only offer a huff in response to his fair point.

He finishes making my tea and slides it down the marble counter, fine porcelain scraping against the smooth surface. I take a sip as Alec begins pulling out the required ingredients and pans to cook. I hum happily as the drink douses my senses with hot, sweet, minty perfection.

“You know how I like my tea?”

Alec gives me a playfully scolding look. “I know everything about you. Who do you think makes your tea for you every morning?”

I should leave. I know I should leave.

My traitorous feet again move towards him, gravitating towards Alec as if he is the sun that fuels me. I go to the island where he has laid everything out and begin cracking eggs .

Blissful energy radiates from Alec’s aura as we begin preparing breakfast together.

He lights a fire on the range, frying bacon that sizzles and pops while I turn the crank of an eggbeater. I smile to myself as I remember what Cescily said during her barrage of words in this very kitchen yesterday.

“What are you thinking about?” Alec asks joyfully, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Try not to set anything on fire this time,” I tell him smugly, suppressing my smile.

“That happened once. And only because Cescily distracted me by blowing flour in my face, making me sneeze uncontrollably for ten minutes,” Alec defends with a sparkle in his eye.

“Yes, blame your sister, who was a girl compared to your, what—two-hundred?”

He washes a handful of strawberries and flicks water at me in response. I shy away from the droplets, and he gives me a boyish grin.

Alec studies me seriously for a moment. “You remember that?”

“No. Cescily told me yesterday.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Yes, Cescily certainly does like to tell you things. Did she tell you anything else?” Alec asks, sounding nervous.

I glance at the dark hair of his beard, then back to his narrowed eyes with amusement. “A few things,” I tell him vaguely with a smirk.

We finish making breakfast together silently. We work together with ease, instinctively knowing how to move around each other. Knowing when we need to hand something to the other. Alec is so familiar. With each fluid movement, every small touch, my soul is settled. The air is light. Our silence is comfortable.

We eat standing in the calm kitchen, continuing our silence. Alec keeps giving me soft, unreadable looks.

“What?” I ask him, shoveling the last bite of eggs into my mouth unattractively.

Alec’s lips quirk up as he watches me. “I have missed this.”

I pause my chewing as I absorb his words. So simple—yet after he says them, my reality begins to feel strange. My stomach is churning, my head pounds worse than it has in weeks, the gravity of everything that has happened crashing over me and sucking me back into my loathing.

Stomping to the sink, I drop my dishes in. My plate cracks and silverware clatters against the copper bin. I avoid Alec’s shocked face as I walk past, barely stifling my tears on my way to the door.

Alec moves so quickly, I don’t register him until he swings in front of me to block the door, his hands reaching above his head to grip the frame. The cords of his muscled arms pop when he flexes his fingers tighter, the position accentuating the trim cuts of his waist.

“Where are you going?” he demands with an edge.

“I’m finished.”

“Well, I am not.”

I try to move past him to leave, but his dominating presence eats all the space, keeping me here.

“I thought we were making progress. What happened?” He drops his arms and crosses them over his chest.

Unwilling to answer, I turn away.

“Look at me!” Alec yells. When I don’t oblige, he grabs my chin and tilts my head up. “Look at me, Ellya. What happened? Are you still struggling with your reality?” he asks me with care and concern. It makes the roiling in my stomach increase.

Giving him a hateful sneer, I answer, “I know exactly what’s in front of me.”

“If that were true, you would accept me.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Alec moves from my chin to tenderly cup my cheek. The touch of his gentle, warm hand reminds me of how I allowed another hand to touch me; I’m overcome with the mountain of guilt I’ve been burying for weeks.

And it’s as if Alec can taste my guilt. “Do you feel him when I touch you?” His hand moves to the back of my neck, stroking it gently, lovingly, contrasting the hurt in his voice.

“That’s not fair,” I choke out.

“None of this is fair.”

“Then why are you asking?” My tears begin to fall when Alec places both warm hands on either side of my face, forcing me to see him.

“Because my own morbid self-loathing already knows the answer but longs to hear you say it.” He brushes the tears away from my cheeks with his calloused thumbs. “I know that I am not being fair, but I feel what I feel, Ellya. The least I can do is be honest with you about it.”

Alec pushes the hair back from my face, cradling my head between his hands.

“Accept me,” he pleads, his gaze compelling me to do as he begs.

But not really.

Not in the binding way that he could force upon me, because though I may not know him anymore, I am fully aware that Alec would never. My heart squeezes tighter.

“I won’t.” I avert my eyes away from his pain before I break completely.

“Why? Tell me why. I only want to be here for you—to love you. The same as I always have.”

I don’t deserve what he offers.

My face contorts with the rage I hopelessly cling to, trying to hide everything else. My hot tears continue to fall while the storm of guilt and regret churns inside me.

“Will you not accept me because you truly do not want me anymore? Or because you think you cannot be forgiven for the things you were coerced into doing?”

My breaths become a panicked rattle as Alec speaks words that paint how clearly he’s seen me this whole time. I try to work past him, to escape the steadily shrinking room. He plants his feet—unmovable—one hand still cupping my cheek and grabs my shoulder, determined to follow me if I try to jump.

“There is nothing that could ever happen to make me stop needing you more than I need the air in my lungs,” he declares passionately.

Alec kisses my forehead gently, and I can’t stop myself from breathing in his leather and salt scent that wraps around me like a comforting blanket. Closing my eyes, I lean into his touch, sighing at the increased pressure of his lips against my skin.

“I don’t want to be your air,” I grit out.

Alec releases my face, slapping the doorframe hard.

“I can feel you longing for me! Every day, I can sense your yearning to be near me. Even now, as your words push me away, your body leans into my touch, because you need me just as much as I need you!” He’s screaming in my face, making my eardrums rattle.

“I don’t need you!” I yell, pushing him away from me, but he stands firm.

“You can keep trying to lie to yourself, but you cannot lie to me,” Alec tells me angrily. The emotion bleeds from his face into something softer, something desperate, his dark eyes shining with gathering tears. “Please, Ellya. Just be here with me.”

“I don’t want to be here at all.”

We stare off for a moment before he finally relents. He reluctantly drops his hand from the doorframe and moves aside, turning his head as if he can’t bear to watch me physically walk away.

I storm past him, down the hall, and straight out the door until I reach the arid, outside air under the porte cochere. I jump to the outskirts of the city, near the urban farms and greenhouses.

An anguished scream wrenches from my throat, directed at the skies.

Crouching down, I release a massive current that rips fiercely through my body, electrifying my frayed nerves. It explodes away from me, spider webbing through the grass and reaching an apple tree, imploding it from the center in a great plume of smoke.

I gave in to my yearning, hoping that it might ease my heartache, but it has only made the sting of my betrayal more stout, burning me alive from the inside out.