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STANDING AT THE ENTRANCE to one of the secret tunnels into the Elf city of Inador, Phaedra wiped her sweaty palms on her leggings. Anxiety gripped her at what awaited her there. The last time she’d journeyed to Inador, it had been to meet an Elf named Arrian, who could perform the ritual to trade her aunt’s soul for her dead boyfriend’s.
She could have never imagined that the Elf named Arrian would become the love of her life, or that she would come to care for him more than she ever had Charles. She never imagined he would ask her to marry him, and bring her back to Inador to meet his sister—the only living immediate family in his life. His elder brother had married the woman Arrian had wanted for himself, resulting in his broken heart, and it was a sore subject ... one Arrian had warned her was off-limits.
Oh, and of course there was the impending fight with a blood magic Phoenix and the evil leader of the Dark Fae.
At her side, Arrian seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he urged her forward and into the darkness. Ahead of them, Rothatin and En’im led the way, their bright glow increasing as they became swallowed up by the dark, lighting their path. Behind them, Jocylene rode in a wagon pulled by a mule, with Adoine, King of the Dwarves, by her side. In the wagon, and the three others traveling behind them, lay the iron weapons they would use against the Dark Fae. There were arrows with iron heads, swords, axes, daggers, and spears. She’d been grateful to find that someone had thought to fashion an iron trident for her. Aside from being a good tool for harnessing large amounts of water, an iron trident could help her skewer any Dark Fae who came near her.
“If you’d rather wait until after the battle to announce our engagement to my sister, we can,” Arrian murmured, keeping his voice low.
They had yet to tell anyone about their betrothal. With everything else that was going on, it seemed wise to wait. The focus for the moment seemed to be on Rothatin and En’im—who had shocked everyone with their surprise engagement. She hadn’t even realized something was going on between them.
But then, Rothatin was a man who put his duty first—which meant he likely wasn’t marrying for love.
“Of course not,” she said, trying to keep her voice level and calm. She was nervous as hell, but knew avoiding it wouldn’t help ease her apprehension. “The sooner, the better, I think.”
He flashed her a bright smile as they followed the dark, winding path toward Inador. “Very well. Once we’ve settled in, I’ll take you to her. She’ll be delighted to meet you.”
Giving him a pointed look, she raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Of course,” he said with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she muttered. “Maybe because you’re her baby brother, who got his heart broken by his ex and big brother. She’s probably really protective of you, isn’t she?”
Arrian seemed to think it over for a moment before nodding slowly. “Well, certainly. But I am the youngest of three siblings.”
“And you’ve been cursed,” Phaedra pointed out. “If it was Sonia we were talking about, and some guy had broken her heart and led to her being cursed, I would probably be a total bitch to any guy who came near her after that.”
Arrian’s expression became uneasy. “Oh, crap.”
She wanted to giggle over hearing the word ‘crap’ come out of Arrian’s very proper mouth, but couldn’t conjure a laugh. Not when she felt as if she were about to puke all over his shoes.
“It’ll be fine,” he encouraged, draping an arm over her shoulders. “She has no reason to oppose our match. You are a royal daughter of Fallada, which makes you my equal. You are beautiful, intelligent, and brave. Jadis has no reason not to love you. Just be yourself, and you’ll win her over as easily as you did me.”
She nudged him with her elbow playfully. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly easy. You were as prickly as a cactus when I first met you.”
“I was ugly and angry when you met me,” he chuckled. “And what, pray tell, is a cactus?”
“A desert plant from the human world,” she replied. “It has sharp thorns on its outside ... touching one can tear your fingers to shreds.”
“Well, you seem to be intact,” he joked, pulling her closer to his side as they walked. “I couldn’t have been so bad.”
“Not really, I guess,” she said. “I suppose I simply learned how to handle you. Any other family I need to know about?”
Arrian shook his head. “The Riverleaf clan is large, so most of them are related to me in some way. There are many cousins and distant uncles and aunts, but hardly any immediate family. My parents are long gone, so only my sister and I remain.”
“And your brother,” she prodded. He couldn’t go on pretending the guy didn’t exist.
His jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. “Yes ... him, too.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet Jadis,” she said quickly, glossing over the moment. “If she’s anything like you, then I’m sure we’ll get along well.”
They lapsed into silence for the rest of the walk, with only the sounds of the wagon wheels against the hard ground breaking through the quiet. Jocylene and Adoine had been discussing battle strategies, but fell silent after a while.
Before long, the gurgling sound of rushing water met her ears, and then they approached the back of one of Inador’s waterfalls. Phaedra could remember running through one of them to escape Eranna’s hybrid army the last time she’d been here. She cringed as she passed beneath the water, her hair becoming a sopping mess. The curls would turn into a frizzy mass as they dried, and she’d go to meet Arrian’s sister looking like a hot mess.
She paused to wring some of the moisture out of her hair, and glanced up to find a party of Elves walking toward them from amongst the trees. They were tall and slender, with wide shoulders and figures made of lithe muscle, like Arrian. Dressed in leather and suede in earthen tones, they all wore bows and sheaths of arrows on their backs.
An Elf with skin as dark as hers stepped forward. A cascade of dreadlocks hung down to his waist, pulled back to reveal his pointed ears.
“Welcome, General, and Your Highnesses, to Inador,” he said in a deep, booming voice. “I am Thandros, of the Treelor clan. What brings you here ... and with a Dwarf army, no less?”
Rothatin stepped forward. “We come from Goldun by the order of Queen Adrah to offer Inador aid.”
A second Elf with mahogany brown hair and dark eyes scowled. “Aid? Inador has not requested aid.”
“No, but we will soon need it,” Arrian spoke up, moving to stand beside Rothatin. “Kalodan Longspear and the Dark Fae are coming to attack, and they bring with them a Phoenix created from blood magic. It is their intent to lay waste to Fallada’s forest, and destroy the realm of Inador.”
Thandros’ eyes grew wide, and for a moment, Phaedra saw fear in them. “What proof do you have of an impending attack?”
“I saw it,” Jocylene piped up, moving around Phaedra to be seen. “Queen Adrah invited me into the chamber where she keeps the Eye of Goldun. I saw the future for myself. Kalodan is coming, and the blood magic Phoenix is very real. If we don’t prepare to fight them off, then the creatures who came to Inador seeking refuge will die. Inador will cease to exist.”
Thandros clenched is jaw, but nodded decisively. “Very well. Come ... I will gather the clan leaders, and we will discuss a plan of action. Those in your party who will not sit in on our war council will be taken to a place where they can rest and eat. Prince Arrian, I am certain you do not need to be escorted home.”
Arrian smiled and shook his head. “I remember the way, Thandros.”
Turning to Phaedra, he extended a hand to her. She took it, but frowned as he led her away from the others. As they followed Thandros toward the center of Inador, Arrian began guiding her on a different path.
“Why aren’t we joining the war council?” she asked, looking down to watch her step as they began crossing a small stream, using smooth stones for foot placement.
“Because, only clan leaders are allowed in war councils,” he explained, helping her hop from the last stone to the other bank of the stream. “General Rothatin will be admitted for obvious reasons.”
“And Jocylene?” she prodded, following him on a path up a gently sloping hill.
All around them, trees rose several feet in the air, their lush foliage pretty much blotting out the sun. Still, Inador glowed from the light of hundreds of Pixies—from blades of grass beneath them, the insides of flowers, and the branches of trees.
“Maybe her, too,” he relented.
Giving him a puzzled look, she silently urged him to give her more information. There was a reason he didn’t want to go to this war council, when the two of them were never left out of the planning phase.
Pausing at the top of the hill, he turned to gather her in his arms. “It’s my brother,” he said, pursing his lips in distaste. “He will be there.”
Phaedra could have kicked herself for being so dense. In Inador, there were no kings or queens—no royal families. Only clans, and the leaders they answered to. Clan leadership passed from father to son, and Arrian’s bloodline was one of the clan leaders. His father had led the Riverleaf clan, and with his death, the eldest son had taken his place, making Arrian the heir apparent—unless his brother sired a son of his own, of course.
Naturally, Arrian wouldn’t want to attend a war council where his brother would be present.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
He kissed the tip of her nose, and then her lips. “It’s not your fault, nor is it your problem. I’m sorry.”
She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, fixing a few stray strands. “You can make it up to me later.”
“Hmm,” he murmured, kissing her again, deeper this time. “I quite like the sound of that.”
With a giggle, she pulled away, needing to put some distance between them before she lost her head. Despite sharing a bed on several occasions over the past few months, they had yet to cross certain lines. The tension between them had been noticeable before, but since her near-death experience and their getting back together, it was even more intense. Maybe it was the engagement, or the knowledge that she had almost died, but Phaedra couldn’t turn her mind away from the sorts of things that might happen at night while they lay together, alone. From the way Arrian kept looking at her, it seemed his thoughts were similar.
Taking her hand, he continued leading her down a winding path through the thick woods. The farther they went, the more alive the forest came with sights, smells, and sounds. Longboats appeared on the surfaces of rivers, which ran between the trees in lazy curves. Elves waved to them as they passed, fishing spears held in their hands. Above them, treehouses appeared, built into the boughs of trees. Some were small, using only one tree, others spanning five or more. They passed an open meadow surrounded by a ring of foliage, within which several Nymphs, Fauns, and Satyrs frolicked, seeming oblivious to the terror preparing to bear down on them.
“They’re so innocent,” Phaedra murmured as they passed the little glen, watching as two Nymphs worked to fasten blossoms in the thick, wooly curls on top of a Faun’s head.
“The creatures of the forest are defenseless,” Arrian agreed. “They have always relied on the Elves and Dwarves to protect them.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “Then it’s a good thing we’re here.”
He tightened his hold on her hand and smiled, and that smile gave her hope. Maybe this battle wouldn’t be so bad, and the lives of the innocent could be spared.
After a while, they came to a large compound of houses that seemed to belong to each other. Carved from dark wood, the outsides boasted intricate carvings, with flowers blossoming everywhere her eyes fell. Vines and greenery climbed up the sides of the structures, and open balconies and archways offered glimpses of the inside. At the center of the compound sat a massive, ancient tree, its trunk as wide as a city building, its top stretching up so high, Phaedra couldn’t see the upper branches. Seated against the trunk and between its roots were Elves. In groups, some of them talked and laughed together, while others seemed to be preparing food. A group of male Elves appeared from the river, bare chested and soaking wet, their spears heavy with the fish they’d tied to them.
A clear, blue river wound its way around the tree and continued as far as her eye could see, with longboats coming and going, while Water Sprites danced and played along the surface.
Turning to her with a smile, Arrian extended one arm toward the welcoming place. “Welcome to the home of the Riverleafs,” he murmured. “Your home, too, someday.”
Phaedra gazed around her in wonder as Arrian pulled her along, skirting the edge of the compound instead of taking her right through it.
“Where are we going?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to watch as the tiny Water Sprites continued jumping and dancing on the surface of the river.
“To my treehouse,” he declared. “I assumed you would want to take a moment to freshen up before meeting my sister.”
Reaching up to touch her bedraggled hair, she sighed with relief. “Oh, thank God.”
Arrian chuckled. “I’d like the chance to wash the grime of travel off myself and change into clean clothing as well. I’ll send word to my sister that we are coming, then we can take our time preparing for the visit.”
Pausing in front of a large tree, Arrian motioned for her to follow him up the wooden staircase built into the trunk. She followed it up, curving around the tree before arriving at the boughs, where Arrian’s home was situated.
It spanned four trees—two across and two wide. Waiting for them in the open archway she assumed to be the entrance, stood a slender Elf male wearing a plain brown tunic and leggings.
“Welcome home, my prince,” the man said, glancing at Arrian as he came up behind Phaedra. “And you’ve brought a guest.”
“So I have,” Arrian replied with a wide smile. “Phaedra, this is Delos, my manservant. Delos, this is Princess Phaedra of Zenun ... my betrothed.”
Shock flickered across Delos’ face for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “Word of an engagement has not yet reached Inador.”
Wrapping his arms around Phaedra from behind, he pulled her up against him and rested his chin on top of her head. “That’s because you are the first person I’ve told.”
Delos cracked a slight smile and bowed. “I am honored, my prince.”
“Delos, I’ve asked you time and time again to stop calling me that,” Arrian chided, though his voice was laced with amusement.
“And I have told you time and time again, that I will not,” Delos countered.
“Indeed,” Arrian replied with a chuckle. “Will you show Phaedra where she can find appropriate attire for dining with my sister? Then, inform Jadis that I have arrived, and will be joining her for the evening meal with a guest.”
Delos nodded. “Right away, my prince.”
“And Delos?” Arrian added before the servant could lead Phaedra away.
“Yes, my prince?”
“You have no knowledge of my engagement to Princess Phaedra,” he warned.
Delos bowed once more. “I hear and see nothing, my prince. I am as ignorant as a babe.”
Arrian watched with amusement twinkling in his eyes as Delos took her arm and began to lead her away. “I’ll come find you in a while. I have to make myself pretty, as well.”
She flashed him a smile on her way across the large treehouse. “It won’t take much!”
He chuckled, parting ways with them to go into a room with an open door—she assumed it to be his bedroom.
Delos led her into another room, with depictions of pixies and flowers etched into the walls and furniture carved from wood by hand. A small balcony overlooked the river and the meadow where the Nymphs continued playing with their flowers, and Satyrs created music with their flutes.
“You will find a variety of clothing in the armoire, there,” Delos said, pointing to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. “In the bedside table, there, you’ll find an assortment of soaps and oils for bathing. There are towels for drying on your balcony.”
Raising an eyebrow, she glanced around the room. “And the tub would be ...”
“Outside,” Delos replied with an amused grin.
Glancing at the balcony, she noticed a set of steps leading down to the river. Her face grew hot at the prospect of accidentally bumping into Arrian while bathing naked in the river.
Seeming to sense her discomfort, Delos gave her a reassuring smile. “He knows you’ll go down to bathe first ... so he will wait an appropriate amount of time before descending. ’Tis the way things are done in Inador, I’m afraid.”
Nodding, she smiled back. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head and bowed before backing out of the room, closing the door. Turning to the wardrobe, she figured she might as well get a move on. No use stalling or trying to put off the inevitable.
She could do this. She could get through dinner with Arrian’s sister and impress her. The woman would become her family someday, after all.
Opening the armoire, she gasped, finding a dazzling array of women’s garments in a variety of colors and textures. Reaching out to touch the sleeve of a white and gold gown, she wondered who they belonged to. Likely a family member. Apparently, the Riverleaf clan was one of the largest in Inador. Arrian probably had a cousin or something who had left them here. Quickly laying out an ensemble, she retrieved soap and a vial of oil from the bedside table drawer and made her way out to the balcony, then down to the river.
Two hours later, Arrian was leading Phaedra across a wooden bridge connecting his home to his sister’s. Pausing in the middle of the bridge, she pulled him up short.
“Wait,” she said, glancing down to make sure her dress wasn’t wrinkled for the millionth time. “Are you sure I look okay? Is this dressy enough?”
Arrian allowed his eyes to trace her from head to toe, appreciation making his eyes darken to a shade of navy. She knew that look well ... he liked what he saw.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so beautiful,” he said with a smile.
That put her at ease. She had chosen a white, sleeveless gown that was etched with a swirling pattern on the bodice in gleaming gold thread. The dress was backless, with a delicate gold chain running between her shoulders and dangling a large clear stone against her back. A matching headpiece sat on top of her curls, which she had moisturized with the oils she found in her room, until they gleamed, fanning out around her face in a thick mass.
Arrian wore a long, navy blue tunic and matching pants. The tunic was shot through with silver thread down the front, in a pattern like the one on her gown. He’d worn his hair loose, with a small section of it pulled back at the top and held by an ornate silver clasp.
He looked delicious.
“Do you think it’s too revealing?” she asked, indicating the back.
He laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her against his side, forcing her to walk along with him. “Inador is warm all year round. Every woman here dresses this way. You’ll likely be more demure than Jadis.”
She took a deep breath and let it out on a shaky exhale. “Okay.”
“Relax,” he urged, drawing his fingertips down the center of her back.
It relaxed her posture, while sending heat spreading across her skin. She melted into him, grateful for his steady presence.
Reaching the open archway leading into Jadis’ home, they were greeted by a female servant dressed similarly to Delos.
“Welcome, Prince Arrian,” she said with a bow. “Princess Phaedra.”
“It is good to see you, Aeriel,” Arrian replied with a warm smile. “Please inform my sister that we’ve arrived.”
Aeriel led them into a large sitting area, leaving them there—presumably to deliver the message to Jadis.
Clenching her hands together, Phaedra glanced around the room without really seeing. It was richly decorated and spacious. Beyond it, she spotted a long wooden table and chairs, and assumed it was where they’d be eating.
A few moments later, a woman with Arrian’s coloring entered the room. She only appeared to look a few years older than Arrian, but Phaedra knew that Elves, like the royals of Fallada, lived for centuries and ceased aging altogether after a while. There could be no telling how old she truly was without asking. With the same dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes as Arrian, Jadis was beautiful. As Arrian predicted, her green silk gown revealed more skin than Phaedra’s—with the same backless design as hers, but with a daringly low neckline. A suede strip of fabric with a large, green flower attached was tied around her neck, and she wore a jeweled headpiece, similar to Phaedra’s.
“Brother,” she said, opening her arms to Arrian with a smile. “It’s so wonderful to see you.”
After hugging him tight for a long moment, she stood back and looked him over, nodding with approval. “You appear well. Better than I’ve ever seen you.”
Reaching out for Phaedra, he took her arm gently and nudged her toward Jadis. “Meet the person responsible ... Princess Phaedra of Zenun. Phaedra, this is my sister, Jadis.”
Jadis smiled, but Phaedra could feel the Elf woman’s gaze assessing her as if searching out all her secrets. “Princess, it is an honor to meet you. Word has traveled far and wide of the royal daughter who broke my brother’s curse. Shame on him for taking so long to bring you to meet me.”
Phaedra gave a nervous laugh. “I’m happy to meet you, Jadis.”
“Come, sit down,” she said, gesturing toward the table. “Dinner will be served shortly. I can get to know you while we wait for our other guests.”
Arrian faltered on his way to the table, his entire body going tense. “What other guests?”
Jadis gave him a warning look. “Arrian ...”
“What other guests, Jadis?” he demanded, his face beginning to redden.
Phaedra gazed back and forth between the two of them, confusion knitting her brow. What had just happened? In an instant, the atmosphere had shifted from warm to cold.
“She means me, little brother,” said a man’s voice from the doorway. “You didn’t think I would neglect to come see for myself that you were cured of your curse, did you?”
Arrian clenched his jaw, the vein in his neck pulsating as Phaedra watched him fight to maintain control of his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he turned to greet the people standing in the front entrance.
The male with the powerful build, dark hair, and blue eyes was surely Arrian’s brother. He would be as beautiful as Arrian if not for the arrogant curve of his mouth, or the look she found in his eyes—as if he were mocking everyone and everything he set his gaze on. His was a hard beauty—mocking and cruel.
“Arandil,” Arrian growled, turning to face the man. “You’ve come and seen me. I’m myself again. Now, you can leave.”
“Now, now, Arrian,” crooned a soft woman’s voice.
Phaedra’s eyes widened as the petite female Elf appeared from behind Arandil, batting her long eyelashes at Arrian. She was stunning, with gleaming red hair and wide, green eyes, her skin tanned from the sun, and unblemished.
“Will you not greet your brother and sister-in-law after so many years?” she added.
“Arandil, Mohria,” Jadis said, keeping her voice passive. “Come in, and sit. We are waiting for dinner, and Arrian has just introduced me to Princess Phaedra.”
Her voice held a warning, that as the oldest sister, she was in charge here and everyone was going to get along or suffer her wrath.
“Ah, yes,” Arandil murmured, crossing the room toward her. “The lovely Princess Phaedra. The tales of how you made my brother beautiful again have reached us all the way from Goldun. Though, they did not quite do you justice, Your Highness.”
Phaedra fought the urge to gag when Arandil took her hand and kissed it, giving her a little smirk. “Arrian has always been beautiful,” she declared. “Even when he was cursed.”
“How sweet she is,” Mohria declared, joining them near the table. “It’s no wonder she was the one to break your spell, Arrian.”
“Yes,” Arrian agreed, joining Phaedra at the table. “I am fortunate to have her.”
Phaedra didn’t miss the look that passed between them. Arrian was fuming, and obviously unhappy about having to endure her company. Mohria was enjoying baiting him, and Phaedra could see she was the type of woman who enjoyed attention, whether positive or negative. That she could still get to Arrian seemed to amuse her.
Reaching out, she laid a hand on top of Arrian’s, drawing his gaze to hers. She smiled at him, trying to put him at ease. He returned the gesture, seeming to relax a bit. Turning his hand over, he clutched hers tight. Perhaps a bit too tight, but Phaedra bore it in silence.
Aeriel appeared with a pitcher of water, which she silently poured into each of their cups.
“I am surprised you aren’t still attending the war council,” Arrian remarked, casting a glance at Arandil.
“There was very little to discuss,” Arandil replied between sips of water. “We know that Kalodan Longspear is marching against us in two days. All the clan heads agree, we must prepare to defend Inador and the forests of Fallada. Preparations will begin at dawn tomorrow.”
Arrian nodded. “It is good you were able to reach an agreement quickly. Phaedra and I will be available in whatever capacity we are needed.”
Aeriel appeared again, with another servant at her side who helped her carry platters of food. For a long while, no one spoke while dishes were passed around. Phaedra helped herself to a little bit of everything, even though her stomach was still in knots. Things seemed to have calmed for now, but Arrian still looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else rather than sharing a table with his brother.
After a few minutes of eating and small talk, Arandil swiveled his gaze to Phaedra.
“Well, are you going to keep us in suspense much longer?”
Phaedra frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“My brother brings you to meet our sister, who has become more like a mother to us over the years,” he clarified. “He’s dressed as if he’s visiting the queen, and he looks as if he’s going to burst at any moment. An important announcement is coming sometime tonight, is it not? It’s the reason for this little gathering.”
“A gathering you were not invited to,” Arrian snapped, glaring at his brother.
“I invited him,” Jadis said firmly. “He’s our brother, and we are a family.”
Arrian shook his head, going back to his meal, but simply poked listlessly at his food rather than eating it. Phaedra’s heart ached for him. This was not at all the way he’d wanted things to happen. This night was supposed to be special, and Arandil and Mohria were ruining it.
“Family,” Arrian grumbled, slamming his fork down beside his plate. “Now there’s an interesting concept.”
“Arrian ...” Jadis warned, giving him a glare.
“No, Jadis, let him talk,” Arandil said with a cocky smirk, leaning back in his chair. “He’s always been the most emotional of us three. Always nursing his wounds over some slight he imagines someone committed against him.”
Arrian shot to his feet, pounding one fist against the table. “You stole something from me! That is not how family behaves.”
Arandil stood as well, but his posture remained relaxed, while Arrian looked as if he were ready to pounce across the table.
“A man cannot take something from you if you have a firm grip on it,” Arandil challenged. “Perhaps the fault lies with you for being too weak to hold on to what you wanted.”
Phaedra was on her feet, reaching out to wrap one hand around Arrian’s arm before he could lunge. She could see it in his eyes and his posture—he was about to blow a gasket.
“Arrian, don’t,” she whispered.
“Sit, both of you,” Jadis commanded. “Phaedra is going to think we’re completely insane.”
“It’s all right,” she assured Jadis, even though she felt as if this entire thing was rapidly spinning out of control. She had no notion how to stop it.
“There, see?” Mohria simpered. “The girl is gracious, just as a princess should be. If a few scales couldn’t keep her from kissing our Arrian, a little argument over dinner will hardly phase her.”
Phaedra narrowed her eyes at the woman who had broken Arrian’s heart. “I am gracious, most of the time,” she said coolly. “But, not all of the time.”
Mohria seemed to get the message and fell silent. However, she continued staring at Phaedra with an unmistakable glint in her eye.
She was jealous.
But, why? She had chosen Arandil over Arrian. Was it because she liked the idea of them both chasing her—of choosing one and watching the other suffer?
Phaedra liked this woman less and less by the second.
“Jadis, I do believe it’s time for me to leave,” Arrian declared, reaching for Phaedra’s hand. “Come, let’s go.”
Phaedra gladly placed her hand in his, hoping to make an escape before things got even uglier.
“Arrian, sit down,” Jadis pleaded. “We’re all here, we might as well make the best of this. I want to hear the good news you have. Please.”
Shaking his head, Arrian gave his sister an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry, Jadis, but I can’t do this. I wanted Phaedra to meet you, because aside from her, you are the most important person in my life. I was going to tell you that we are betrothed, and ask you for Mother’s ring to give her. I’d hoped this night would be special for Phaedra, because she cannot be with her own family right now. But, I suppose that was asking for too much given the history of this particular family.”
Jadis covered her open mouth with one hand, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Arrian ... I’m so sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault,” Arrian mumbled, cutting his eyes at his brother.
Arandil simply smiled. “Mother’s ring? Are you referring to this ring?”
Phaedra glanced up to find that Arandil was pointing at Mohria, who held her left hand up for everyone in the room to see. On her left ring finger, a large, pale blue stone in a silver setting gleamed; a beautiful piece of jewelry.
Arrian’s temples began to pulse, his eyes growing dark as he leveled a murderous stare at his brother. “Why is she wearing Mother’s ring?”
Arandil scoffed. “Because I came and retrieved it years ago, when I asked Mohria to marry me.”
“Mother promised that ring to me,” Arrian replied through clenched teeth.
Mohria giggled. “Honestly, Arrian, you were a monster for over a century. Did you think you’d ever get the chance to use the ring?”
“She’s right, you know,” Arandil taunted. “No self-respecting female would have had you. Besides, ’tis only a ring. There are others in the family you could give your princess.”
Arrian drew a sharp gasp, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. For a moment, he trembled with rage, causing Phaedra to fear he would leap over the table and wrap his hands around Arandil’s throat. Honestly, Phaedra didn’t think she could blame him, and might actually help hold him down while Arrian attempted it.
Instead, he gave her hand a tug and guided her back toward the door. She held the bottom of her skirt up so she wouldn’t trip over it while trotting to keep up with his swift strides. They remained silent on the way back across the bridge, with only the soft tinkle of the Pixies flying and chirping around them breaking the silence. Somewhere in the distance, music continued to play.
Once they had arrived inside, Arrian stormed past Delos without a word and began pacing the living area. Delos, seeming to sense that they needed privacy, disappeared without making a sound.
Sinking into a nearby chair, Phaedra watched Arrian pace, her brow knit with concern.
“Arrian,” she whispered after a while.
As if just remembering that she remained in the room, he approached, crouching down in front of her. Taking both of her hands in his, he clutched them tight, bringing them up to his lips. He kissed her knuckles, then rested his forehead against her hands, shuddering as if fighting for control.
The tension emanating from him was palpable—so thick, she was surprised he didn’t choke on it.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, reaching up to run one hand through his hair.
“No, it’s not,” he replied. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”
“I know,” she replied. “But I’m still here. I still love you. And I think, I learned a lot about you tonight. I understand things more than I did before.”
He glanced at her, uncertainty clouding his gaze. “Do you still want to be my wife, knowing what you will marry into?”
Lowering her head, she kissed him, taking her time to make sure she said with her kiss what she was about to say out loud. “There is nothing that could stop me from wanting to marry you. Not even an asshole for a brother, and a bitch for a sister-in-law. Besides, Jadis is nice. I like her.”
“She likes you, too,” Arrian declared. “I could tell.”
“Yes,” said Jadis’ voice from the doorway, “she does.”
Arrian shot to his feet, turning to face Jadis, who had materialized in the doorway. Coming further into the room, she stood near a window, where the moonlight framed her and the small wooden box she held in her hands.
“I came to apologize to you both for Arandil’s behavior,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Arrian, I thought that perhaps I could help the two of you mend your relationship. Perhaps I chose the wrong time for it, and I am so sorry. I ruined what was supposed to be a celebration. As well, I did not realize Mother had promised the ring to you. I never would have let them have it if I’d known.”
Shaking his head, Arrian crossed the room toward his sister. He enveloped her hands in his and lowered his head to kiss her cheek.
“No, Jadis, you didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “Arandil did, and I was not much help. I’m afraid where he’s concerned, I may never find it in myself to forgive.”
Jadis nodded. “I understand. I’m certain the two of you wish to be alone, so I won’t linger. I just wanted to give you this.”
Arrian frowned when she placed the little box in his hands. Phaedra watched as he opened it to reveal a ring far different from the one Arrian had wanted. This was made of pure gold, its stone a sumptuous, blood red ruby. Flanked by smaller diamonds, the ring was larger than the other.
“It isn’t the ring Father gave Mother when they wed,” Jadis said. “But it did belong to her. I think it is well suited for your betrothed.”
“Yes,” Arrian replied, his voice becoming thick with emotion. “It is. Thank you, Jadis.”
She stood on tiptoe to hug him, then began to back away toward the door. “I hope it makes up for the way things happened this evening. Phaedra, I hope you and I can spend some time coming to know one another some other time.”
Smiling, Phaedra nodded. “I would like that.”
Jadis turned to leave, and became swallowed up by the darkness as she crossed the bridge. Arrian approached her again, dropping to one knee in front of her. Removing the ring from the box, he slid it slowly onto her left ring finger.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
She studied the ring, noticing that the deep red color of the stone complemented her skin tone. “I love it.”
He smiled, reaching up to cup her cheek. “And I love you.”
Leaning toward him, she offered her lips. He crushed her against him, his fingers tangling in her hair and holding on tight. She clung to him, gripping the front of his tunic and pulling him closer, until he was practically straddling the chair she sat in. Their lips parted and met over and over, while they clung to each other, Arrian seeming as unwilling to let her go as she was to release him.
Pulling away, he gasped for air, his gaze burning into hers with longing and need.
“Phaedra, we have to stop,” he whispered. “If you keep kissing me like that ...”
She groaned, letting her head drop back to rest against the chair. “I know ... I just can’t help it.”
He sighed, placing a kiss against her throat. “Neither can I, but ... well, we’ve waited this long, haven’t we? Why not continue to wait? Before long we’ll be wed, and then I won’t have to stop. Ever.”
A slow smile crept over her face at the thought. Glancing up at him, she rested her hand against his face. “I like the sound of that.”
Standing, he scooped her into his arms and began making his way toward her room and the little balcony leading down to the river.
“Now, what do you say to a moonlight swim? You haven’t lived until you’ve swam in this river. The water has restorative properties. When you come out of it, you’ll feel rejuvenated in a way you never have before.”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held on tight as he began carrying her down to the water.
“I say, I’ll go anywhere as long as you’re going, too,” she murmured.
Pausing on the edge of the water, Arrian smiled, then lowered his head for another kiss.