Eight

Phoebe pulled back, a bit shocked at her outburst. She wasn’t normally so confrontational. But then again, she reasoned, the bastard deserved it. How dare he ask what was wrong with her? With her! He was the bastard that stood there glowering at her. He was the one that had left without a word after taking her heart and crushing it under his heel.

What was wrong with her?

He was what was wrong with her, dammit!

He was always butting into her business, getting every single place she applied to to turn her down. He was a controlling jerk and today was one of the worst days of her life. She did not need this.

She needed a hug. She needed a friend. She needed Dalghizar to come pick her up and take her home because she’d rather face her blood stained carpet than look at him for a second longer!

“What was Dal even thinking, dropping me off here?”

And where was here anyway?

The sudden question quelled a bit of her anger.

It had been so long since Phoebe had been out of the castle. Once Dal came back, she was certain she’d be hidden away again until the wedding. There was no way he was going to let her out of his sight after this. Current moment notwithstanding.

Frustratingly curious, Phoebe quickly scanned the area behind Tegan. There was a king-sized bed neatly done up with a bedside table on the right-hand side. A large stone chest sat at the foot of the bed. It was decorated with the scenes of a battle, but Phoebe was too far away to see it in more detail.

She started to turn around to survey the rest of the room when Tegan reminded her that they were in the middle of a conversation. Whoops.

“He was following orders.”

“What?” Her eyes snapped to his. “Why?”

Tegan had been avoiding her for nearly twenty years. Every time she’d called him, it had been a coin toss on whether he’d answer. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She would’ve had much better odds had she actually tossed a coin.

“You were attacked.”

“Ah.” Now this all made sense. “Guardian duties.”

Tegan’s eyes hardened. His lips pursed as if he wanted to say something. In the end he merely shook his head.

As he did so, a light danced at the bottom of his ear. Curious, Phoebe leaned in a bit to see what had caused it. Her eyes widened at the sight of the golden rose. Rushing to his ear, she breathed, “What is this!”

Her heart hammered as she leaned up on her toes. She’d know that stud anywhere. It was her most prized possession despite the cheap quality of it. Her father had purchased them at a market when he’d been a lovesick teen courting her mother. Despite the many luxurious earrings he had bought her over the years, these had been her favorite. They were Phoebe’s too, but for a different reason. They were the only thing of her mother’s that she had left.

“It’s a stud,” Tegan said flippantly.

Her jaw dropped open at his audacity. “A stud? That’s my mother’s! Why do you –”

Her mouth slammed shut. Her eyes darted to his face as she remembered the last time she’d worn them.

But that didn’t make any sense, she reasoned. Tegan didn’t care about her like that. Their moment at the swimming hole had very much been a ‘wham, bam, thank you, ma’am’ kind of deal – with exception to the thank you part because the bastard had run off without a word.

“I thought it had just fallen out,” she murmured. “I searched for it for days.”

Never had she considered that he’d taken it.

“Why?”

Tegan shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “Do you want something to drink?”

Oh, hel no. Phoebe wanted to know why he’d taken her earring. She wanted to know if the hopeful fluttering in her heart was something she should squash or let fly. Past experience would tell her to squash the hel out of it and then set it on fire to make sure it could never rise again. But the way he avoided her had her weak in the knees.

Heart hammering widely, Phoebe started to demand an answer. But then she paused, her face turning pale. Dear gods, Lylel was right. She was still in love with him. Worse, she was on the verge of giving him another chance all because he’d kept an earring.

Arawn’s fire, this was insane.

She was supposed to be over him. She was supposed to tell him all the ways he had hurt her before slamming a door in his face. She’d daydreamed about doing just that for nearly twenty years. She’d even rehearsed her rant. But standing so close to him, Phoebe couldn’t remember a single word she’d practiced. All she could think about was how much it hurt just to look at him.

No. She shook her head in denial. Her stomach curled with desire. Her heart ached with pain.

No, she wouldn’t let him back in. She couldn’t. She had dreams of traveling the world, of becoming her own person. She had a future planned and it was without him. How dare he come back into her life and take away all the growth she’d garnered.

“Give it back.” Phoebe held out her hand. Her heart broke at the sight of his pain. Reinforcing her walls, she thrust her hand again.

“Phoebe…”

“It’s not yours, Tegan. You didn’t have the right to take it.”

He opened his mouth only to close it again. Silently, he reached up to the stud in his ear. She saw the strain in his hands, but she refused to let herself care. He had no place in her life. Not anymore.

Tegan hesitated with his hands over hers. The stud was pinched between his fingers on one hand, the fastener in another. For the first time since she’d seen the earring, Tegan looked into her eyes.

All breath left her. Her heart danced wildly. Eaten by an overwhelming sorrow, Phoebe almost told him to keep it. She was wrong; she wasn’t ready to sever all ties with him. She loved him so much and he –

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Tegan placed the stud in her outstretched hand. The weight of it nearly caused Phoebe to sag to her knees. Physically, the earring wasn’t any heavier than a penny, but emotionally, it carried the weight of the world.

Eyes burning, Phoebe swallowed hard. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. Still, it didn’t stop the pain.

Nodding mutely, she closed her fingers around the stud. “I’ll take that drink now.”

He stared at her, but this time it was she who couldn’t meet his eyes. Finally, he walked past her. “Anything in particular?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, but she didn’t call him back. She feared she’d ask for more than just a drink if she did.

With a shaky hand, Phoebe threaded the stud in her ear so she wouldn’t lose it. Then taking a deep breath, she collected her resolve and turned around. A closed door greeted her as did a set of stairs. Climbing up, she found herself in a larger room.

The walls were made of the same dark gray stone as below, but here they bulged and curved to mimic the natural walls of a cavern. Continuing the underground theme, a large stalagmite dominated the middle of the room. A fire crackled inside it.

By the gods, in this heat?

Phoebe wrinkled her nose. She had only been here for a couple of minutes and already her armpits were damp. She was about to ask if they could put it out when the flames changed color and caused her to gasp.

“Holy shit.”

“Have you decided what you want?” Tegan’s voice startled her from her musings.

She looked around, but didn’t see him. Assuming he was behind the fireplace, Phoebe walked around it. She found him standing in front of a kitchenette. His back was towards her as he looked inside a cupboard.

Suddenly, her excitement over the flames faded. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. Her heart yearned for something more. Awkwardly, she looked away.

“Whatever you’re having,” she said. She was surprised her voice wasn’t as broken as the rest of her.

There was the sound of clinking glass as he rummaged around. Then Tegan turned and held up a pitch black bottle. “This okay?”

Phoebe nodded. She had no idea what it was, but she doubted it was strong enough. Between the attack and the shock of seeing Tegan again, she needed something that was 100% alcohol. Throw in finding her mother’s stud in his ear and she needed the drink of the bloody gods.

After pouring them each a glass, Tegan held one out to her. Almost desperately, Phoebe reached out to take it. As her fingers brushed over his, she sucked in a sharp breath. The electricity was as sharp and sudden as it’d ever been. It was like the last twenty years hadn’t happened. Her body yearned. Her heart ached. And Phoebe couldn’t remember how to breathe.

She was back at the swimming hole with the waterfall crashing in her ears. All sensible thought left her as she slowly lifted her eyes. She followed the line of his arm up to his broad shoulders, racked her gaze over his pursed lips and long nose. His nostrils flared as he watched her. Phoebe lingered a few seconds on his mouth, building up courage and desire, before lifting her eyes to his.

Her pulse danced at the sight of pure violet. If she trailed a hand across his chest, would he stop her this time? Or would he haul her into a kiss and make her feel like a goddess?

Her heart begged her to see, to rekindle the flames that had never really died inside her. Slowly, Phoebe swayed towards him.

His abrupt step back caused her to flounder. The glass slipped from her fingers, but Tegan caught it before it hit the ground. She mumbled a thank you as he placed it on the counter.

Cheeks hot with embarrassment, Phoebe grabbed the glass and threw it back. The liquid slid nicely down her throat. An immediate haze clouded over her mind. She was about to ask for another round when two things happened within milliseconds of each other.

First, Tegan’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His mouth dropped open in a mixture of awe and concern. Now Phoebe wasn’t a big drinker given she didn’t have many people to drink with, but she was experienced enough to know that look. This was not a drink one was supposed to down.

Unfortunately, in the split second it took her to realize that, the second thing happened. Her mouth, throat, and stomach burned in pain. It felt like a volcano had taken up residence inside her and it was about to explode. Her eyes widened. Slamming a hand over her mouth, Phoebe rushed to the sink. She had barely made it before the alcohol erupted from her lips.

She wrenched on the tap and stuck her mouth under it. Gulping desperately, she tried to put out the fire inside her. By the gods, how was this a legal drink?

Her eyes watered. She gulped harder.

“Slow down,” Tegan ordered. A glass clinked on the counter beside her. “Drink this.” When she didn’t stop lapping at the tap, he added, “It’ll help a lot more than the water.”

Immediately, she was on it. She tossed it back and sighed at the instant cooling. It didn’t make the fire disappear, but it turned its heat down to embers. Given the lava it had been before, she’d take it.

“What…the…bloody fuck…was that?” she asked, still struggling to breathe.

Tegan held up the bottle for her to look at. ‘Helfire’ was written boldly across its label in a font that warned of death.

“Adequately…named.” Phoebe instantly regretted her attempt at a chuckle as it turned into a worrying cough. Hovering back over the sink, she let out a low moan. Gods, could this day get any worse?

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you beforehand.”

Like I would have listened. Drink of the gods. That was what I was after, right?

“It’s fine,” she wheezed.

But gods, I’m never drinking again.

“There’s some wine if you’d rather have that?”

Phoebe hesitated. “Any Aizela’le’Nier?”

That was only like thirteen percent alcohol, so it didn’t really count.

“No, but…” He rummaged around, checking labels. Pulling out a dark bottle, he offered it to her. Warily, Phoebe read its label.

“What does it taste like?”

He thought about it. “Like the embers of a backyard fire.”

She frowned. “Is there anything that doesn’t taste like fire?”

Tegan shrugged. “It comes with the territory.”

“Which is where exactly?”

“Halzaja’s Underground.”

Phoebe lit up at that. Visiting a drazic market was in the top ten on her to do list. To be so close…

“Heldron Castle to be exact.”

Her eyes bulged. The market here was unrivaled. Even in the much bigger kingdom of Lucevil, there wasn’t one anywhere near as good. There were larger ones yes, but none that matched the quality of their goods. The Heldron craftsmanship was famous throughout the Seven Planes. The things they could do with metals often didn’t seem possible. Even the elf-smiths and dwarves came here year on year to marvel at their wares.

Phoebe swiveled around, looking for a window. When she didn’t see one, she hurried back to the flames. “Are these the flames of Niflhel?”

Excitement bubbled inside her. She was surprised she wasn’t jumping up and down and squealing like a fan girl. It must be her unconscious desire to not come across as a complete idiot in front of Tegan, that was stopping her.

“Can I see Hel’s Exit?”

“No.”

She wasn’t surprised. No one got to see it. “Have you seen it?”

“Yes.”

“What! How? Why? What was it like? Did anyone come out? Who were…” She trailed off as she caught the look in his eyes.

They were a dark purple, swirling with a desire that left her breathless.

“Tegan?”

Her heart hammered, hoping he’d take a step towards her. No, away. No, oh she didn’t know what! She just wanted.

With a rough shake of his head, Tegan tossed back the remainder of his glass. Phoebe’s mouth dropped open when he didn’t immediately rush to the sink. There hadn’t been a full shot left, but it had been a good deal more than half.

“You’ve had a lot of practice with that, huh?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the only way I can fall asleep.”

Sadness squeezed at her heart. She didn’t like the idea of him being so troubled. Taking in the stiffness of his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes though, Phoebe realized he spent more time troubled than he did at peace. She wondered briefly if she’d been the cause of that. Then she shook her head. He might have kept her earring, but he’d never come back for her. If her absence had troubled him that much, surely he would have come back.

Turning abruptly away, Phoebe surveyed the rest of the room. There was a small gym to the left of the fireplace. A punching bag hung from the ceiling. A few weights and machines surrounded it. Her cheeks heated at the image of a shirtless Tegan, his muscles straining with power.

Wishing she’d taken that drink, Phoebe looked up to the mezzanine above the gym. It curved around half the room, from the gym to the stairs going to the bedroom. There was a couch up there as well as a desk and a shelf full of books.

With nothing else to see in this direction, she slowly turned towards Tegan. He was still watching her, but his eyes were no longer purple. They were the lovely blue that had haunted so many of her dreams.

“So,” she said in the strained silence. Fiddling with the folds of her dress, she tried to think of something to say. “So…how long do you think Dal will be?”