Chapter Nine

Jorrin was waiting.

Blessed Spirit, he was sick of it.

Four days since they’d simulcasted the spell to call his father.

Braedon hadn’t turned up.

Hadrian assured him Braedon would sense it; that he’d come to find them, but how could they be sure?

Less than three days before they would have to recast. He’d have to dig deep to muster the energy. Getting over the initial disappointment was hard enough.

Avery had also been disappointed. Each morning with no sign of Jorrin’s father, Cera’s cousin withered even more.

Cera wasn’t taking the waiting any better, but at least he hadn’t had to witness any more tears. He didn’t want to think about her tears. Didn’t want to remember what it was like to hold her, and definitely banished the memory of her kiss. Especially the last one.

Damn, he’d botched things with her.

He’d not tried to kiss her again. Nor had they discussed it. Both were striving for normal. And although Jorrin ached every time he looked at her, he was dealing with it . . . pretending he’d not drowned against her sweet lips, felt her luscious body against his, and melted into her gorgeous gray eyes.

Liar.

Jorrin couldn’t get her out of his head. Or his dreams.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped Hadrian’s axe.

He’d been helping the elf wizard by halving firewood logs. Bigger and stronger than Hadrian, he could accomplish twice what the wizard could in about half the time.

Jorrin smiled to himself, remembering Cera’s shock that Hadrian didn’t have some magic spell to do it for him.

“He’s got something for everything else,” she’d remarked, eyes wide.

The redhead had laughed out loud when the elf had told her that magic for chopping wood just wasn’t practical.

“But it is for doing dishes?” she’d asked.

Jorrin laughed just as he had earlier. Obviously, she’d no idea Hadrian was pulling her leg.

“Almost done?” Her sweet voice pulled him from his memory.

He looked up, meeting Cera’s gray eyes. She smiled and his sense of gloom dissipated.

“I guess so.” He surveyed the neat stack of firewood he’d made for the elf wizard. “This should last him quite some time, so I can probably stop.”

She looked him up and down. “You look hot. Want some water?”

He was suddenly hot all right, but it had little to do with his chopping wood. Heat crept up his neck. Jorrin ordered his body not to respond any further to that stare of hers. “Nah, I’m all right.” He swallowed hard, glancing over his work again, desperately needing a distraction.

Cera hadn’t acknowledged his dismissal. She disappeared into the cabin.

“Here you go.” She handed over a large mug of iced spice tea. “It’s not water, though. Avery fixed it, it’s my favorite.”

“Then you drink it.” Jorrin shook his head and attempted to hand the mug back to her.

She put her palm up. “No, it’s for you. C’mon, Avery would be upset.”

He studied her for a moment, stomach fluttering.

She was reaching out to him?

Maybe normal wasn’t so bad if she’d talk to him, spend time with him.

Had she made the drink?

Cera was being awfully insistent with him.

“Well, Lady Ryhan, you shouldn’t be serving me, a lowly half-elf. It should be the other way around.”

Making a face, she stuck her tongue out.

He laughed. “That was very un-lady like.”

“It was?” She giggled. “Then I shan’t do it again.” Her tone and manner were haughty. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Weren’t you going to serve me?” She bowed gracefully.

Somehow, it looked wrong since she was clad in breeches, and not the long skirts a lady would normally wear, but then again, she was not like any highborn lady Jorrin had ever met.

He chuckled and gestured to a log big enough for a seat, not far from the chopping block. “By all means, my lady, have a seat.”

She sat on the log, overacting, but still graceful. “Not the best accommodations for a lady of my rank, I have to mention,” she said in the same haughty tone, and then looked away from him.

Their eyes met after a moment and they both laughed.

His heart ached. Jorrin wanted more with her. He pushed the thoughts away, clinging to what he had with her at the moment.

Not nearly enough, but it would have to do.

For now.

But the banter was a welcome distraction from the seriousness of their situation.

Before he’d met Cera, life held a simplicity he’d been missing lately. On the other hand, his purpose had been lacking.

Which did he prefer more?

No purpose at all, or one that affected the very lives of people—people he was starting to care a great deal about?

Nothing he’d asked for, but a role that could fulfill his greatest desires and his greatest fears at the same time.

“Thank the Blessed Spirit you’re not really like that.” Jorrin ignored his train of thought.

It’s for the better.

She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to stand myself. Though I know many a lady who really is.”

“I wouldn’t like you half as much as I do.”

Why had he said that?

How was he supposed to qualify his comment?

Her cheeks reddened, but she locked her gaze with his.

Jorrin’s heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I care about you . . . a great deal.” It was more than that, but if he told her, Cera would shove him away. And he already wasn’t fond of being at arms’ length.

Besides, he wanted to gauge her reaction to his lesser confession.

Her eyes widened and her blush deepened. “Oh,” she whispered.

Oh.

Oh?

She said oh?

He blinked.

Jorrin’s head reeled and his chest burned, heart tearing in two.

They stared at each other.

He put his hand to his forehead, and turned away. Jorrin shook his head, and when he glanced back at Cera, she stood up, taking a step toward him.

“Jorrin, I . . . I’m . . .”

Hadrian appeared in his home’s cabin’s doorway. “Braedon’s coming!”

The interruption was like Avery’s the other night, when she’d put the first dent in his heart. Now his heart pounded for a different reason.

His father was coming?

Cera looked at the wizard, then back at him.

Jorrin swallowed hard, torn. Ordering himself to get it together, he smiled at Hadrian and walked past her without another word.

She looked down, and his magic tingled as he caught her rush of pain, but Jorrin ignored his answering guilt.

She’d just crushed him after all.

Why did she feel bad?

“Did you hear what I said, lass?” Hadrian stared at Cera.

Jorrin ignored both the wizard and Trikser, who rushed past him on his way to his mistress.

He headed to the cabin, stepping inside and refusing to meet Avery’s gray eyes as he slipped into a seat at Hadrian’s table.

“Something wrong?” the younger man asked, the brilliant smile on his face falling off a bit.

“No,” Jorrin mumbled. “My father’s coming?”

“Aye, let me show you, Hadrian said.

Jorrin forced another smile and ignored Avery’s curious expression. He couldn’t meet Cera’s eyes as she came to the small table as well.

 

****

 

Braedon turned off the road, plunging into the woods. They’d slowed from their grueling pace for the past several hours. His old stallion’s energy had returned, but Roan was still breathing heavier than he liked.

“Almost there, my friend.” He patted the horse’s neck.

The center of the call radiated just ahead. It was so strong it made his magical senses leap, causing him to squint. Not a light exactly, but it had the bright trail of the same three auras he’d sensed when he’d first realized what it was.

The spell was fading, no longer at the height of its power; he could feel it wane.

Braedon was glad he’d not answered the call when it had been first cast. Coming this close would have certainly knocked him off Roan.

Smiling at the image in his head, he ducked as his stallion went under the low hanging branch of a tree. Maybe he would get knocked off his horse, yet.

“Are you upset with me, my friend?” Braedon asked with a low chuckle.

They came to a clearing.

He sighed when he saw the small cabin, which looked as tired as he felt. Smoke drifted from the undersized chimney, so someone had to be home, but he could see little proof of that outside.

Roan gave a whinny that was answered by the rapid clopping of hooves and an aggressive snort. A nervous stallion.

Braedon looked in the direction of the din and saw three horses. One black, another white and the last dappled several shades of gray. They were tied along a small fence at the opposite end of the clearing, and it even looked decrepit.

Which horse was the stallion was a mystery, but if all three horses pulled away at the same time, the rotted posts would pull the fence right out of the ground.

Good thing they wanted to stay put. None were saddled, and a small barn stood to the left of them at the edge of the woods. It was in better shape than the cabin.

Another horse’s whinny took his attention. A very skinny animal, grayish in color, small in stature, was tied to another post in front of the cabin. The poor wretch had to be older than Roan, and looked like it hadn’t eaten in months.

Who would treat an animal that way?

Surely not Hadrian, for his old friend and wizard’s strongest magic was related to animals. If the horse was the elf’s, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as it looked at a distance.

He walked Roan into the clearing slowly, instinct making him keep his guard up. Deep down, he doubted he was being led into a trap, but from what he’d known over the turns, one could never be too cautious.

A wolf came flying toward him out of nowhere, fangs bared and growling, hackles standing on end.

Braedon discarded the idea of drawing his sword and attempted to steady Roan. The horse’s muscles rippled under his thighs as his stallion pranced. The wolf lunged, and he shifted his weight to maintain his seat.

The beast wasn’t making contact; it was only pushing them back, trying to keep him out of the clearing.

He was about to say a spell to force the wolf away from them when a young woman with curly dark red hair appeared in front of the cabin. He didn’t focus on her. He couldn’t allow the distraction; he wanted the wolf away from his horse.

“Trikser, no!” She raised her hand, beckoning him. “Stop.”

He stared as the wolf obeyed; the whining beast moved to her, tail plastered between its legs. Sitting beside her, he looked like a peaceful puppy, not the vicious animal Braedon had just seen before him.

Magic flowed between them. Ah, they were bonded. He’d seen the likes of it before, of course, but not in some time. Smart move, though. Had he a daughter, he’d approve of such a pairing. The girl would have a ferocious protector for life.

Bonded animals always gained the benefit of living much longer than their normal lifespan. The wolf would survive as long as the girl did. Unfortunately, if one party died, the other usually did not last long, no matter which of the two perished.

Three more figures appeared behind the girl, the last almost tumbling out of the cabin’s door. The last took Braedon’s attention immediately.

The last was Jorrin.

My son.

He wouldn’t have noticed if the king himself had been one of the others.

Tears sprung to his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision.

The smallest of the four figures took a step toward him.

“Well, are you going to get down from there, or do we have to drag you?” Hadrian demanded, hands on his hips, his head cocked up at him. “I’m short, remember? C’mon, you’re hurting my neck.”

Braedon chuckled. “Not even a hello, old friend, after all these turns?” He dismounted.

Hadrian grinned, his clear blue eyes sparkling as Braedon landed beside him. “Of course, where are my manners?” The elf wizard embraced him, not quite coming up to Braedon’s chest.

They both smiled, then shook hands as they stood back to survey each other.

“You look good. The same, really,” Hadrian remarked, his approval apparent.

“As do you.”

“No, I’m old.”

Braedon laughed.

The elf’s answering grin was impish.

He looked around, his gaze settling on Jorrin. He was eager to greet his son.

Jorrin was not far from the doorway of the cabin, looking like he wanted to run. Vanora’s beauty was all over his son, down to his tapered ears.

Braedon’s heart raced.

So tall.

Tall and dark-haired like him, but he knew without looking Jorrin had his mother’s sapphire eyes.

He needed to greet him, hug him.

Speak to him.

Braedon, my friend, he’s going to need some time. He heard Hadrian’s voice in his head, and the comment left his chest aching.

He shot the elf wizard a glance. Disappointment crashed over him in waves, emotion making his magic throb.

Jorrin radiated bitterness, and he winced.

Braedon couldn’t blame the lad, but it didn’t lessen the pain of rejection.

His son couldn’t understand everything, but then again, he had no idea what Jorrin knew about his past.

All in good time.

He tried to smile, but only succeeded in Jorrin shrinking away from him, moving back into the shadow of the doorway.

“Thank you for coming.” The redheaded young woman spoke for the first time, taking Braedon’s attention. “I’m sorry about my bond. You weren’t hurt?”

“No, I wasn’t hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

 

****

 

Cera looked the tall man over.

Was he old enough to be Jorrin’s father?

He didn’t look much over forty turns, if that, but his contribution to Jorrin’s looks was obvious.

They had the same coal black hair and high cheekbones, which she had first assumed to be an elfin trait. Like Jorrin, Braedon was handsome—gorgeous actually.

They shared the same height and broad shoulders; trim waist and muscular build, though the elder had a little more bulk.

She almost gasped when her gaze met his.

Instead of the sapphire eyes Jorrin had, Braedon’s were amber, and she’d never seen amber eyes on a person.

Captivating.

Jorrin’s father and Hadrian were speaking in Aramourian, but Cera was suddenly too worried about his elderly stallion to wonder what they were saying. “Avery, can you see to his horse? He needs tending.”

“Yes, of course, the poor lad needs a drink.” Avery stepped forward.

“No, no . . . I’ll do it,” Braedon protested.

Cera shook her head. “I’m sure you’re tired from your journey, and my cousin doesn’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Avery nodded and took the stallion’s reins from Braedon’s hand.

“Don’t argue with her, you won’t win.” Hadrian winked and flashed a smile. He was teasing her, something she was still getting used to.

Heat rushed her cheeks.

Jorrin’s father relented, and let Avery lead the horse toward Ash, Valor and Grayna. There was a spot for him on the end of the fence, and grain and water in Hadrian’s small barn.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Jorrin said. He stepped away from the cabin door, but he didn’t come close enough to really join them.

Cera glanced at him and bit her bottom lip, stopping herself from reaching for him.

He hadn’t talked to her much; she’d screwed things up so badly. Pulling away from his kiss, then hurting his feelings by the woodpile. Her intended bribe of the spiced tea had failed miserably. She’d crushed him twice, when all she really wanted to do was fall into him, to savor and return his kiss, admit that she cared about him, too.

More than cared about him?

But since Hadrian had confirmed Braedon was on his way, Jorrin had seemed to sink further into himself.

Did it really have to do with the advent of his father?

How much of it was her fault?

She had to defeat Varthan and save her family. Getting closer to Jorrin was too dangerous. Not just for her heart.

The ex-archduke was a bastard. He had powerful magic at his disposal. His shades had the ability to retrieve information deeply blocked and buried in someone’s mind. So, if she was caught, no matter how she tried to protect him, she’d be unable to.

Cera couldn’t risk caring for Jorrin any more than she already did, but as much as she’d hurt him by pulling away, she stabbed her own heart, too.

She wanted him.

To be close to him, be in his arms.

Kissing him, touching him.

Damn, the man could kiss. Only two times, and Cera was already addicted.

She’d had a hard time paying attention to the scrying spell Hadrian had used to show them Braedon’s progress on the road. Normally, she would’ve been fascinated by it.

He didn’t use a map, like traditional scrying did, but opened a small window, a bubble, showing a picture of where Braedon actually was.

The spell was centered on the belt buckle that had belonged to Jorrin’s father, in the same way traditional scrying depended upon a personal belonging of the person that was being sought.

Avery, of course, had been amazed and wanted to learn the skill immediately.

The wizard had told them one only needed a flat surface to make it work, and it didn’t matter what the surface was. An easy spell, anyone could master it.

Her cousin hadn’t wasted any time. He’d started to practice right away.

Sighing, she let her thoughts sink back to the man she was still trying to convince herself she couldn’t have.

Jorrin stood next to Hadrian as the elf spoke to the tall man, his shoulders slumped, not meeting his father’s eyes.

Denying him in her own head was a failure. Thinking of him made her smile, no matter what. Her heart never behaved normally when they were in the same room, especially if he was flashing that smile of his. Her stomach rolled, and her cheeks were always hot.

The feeling was more than physical attraction.

But as much as that made her heart skip, she dreaded it.

Opening herself up to him?

Letting him see the real Cera?

She’d already let him see her cry. That was something not even Avery had seen very often.

Immediate family had been everything to her; she’d shut down when she’d lost them. A connection like that was too much of a risk. And letting Jorrin in was different than the love she’d had for her parents and Kait.

She hadn’t shared her feelings with anyone.

In many ways, she was afraid to take that step. If she voiced what she was feeling, she’d have to face it. It was easier to deal with if her lips were sealed, but hurting him made her heart ache.

How much longer could she get away with not coming clean to him?

He was part empath, after all, so he’d be able to pick up thoughts and emotions without prying. How much did he already know?

Wild, unstable emotions were hard to hide, no matter how strong the walls she tried to maintain in her mind.

“Aye, I assumed you called me for a reason.” Jorrin’s father’s voice was steady and even, his accent revealing he was a man from the far north, though it wasn’t as thick as the elf wizard’s.

“Yes, we do have a great deal to discuss.” Cera’s words repeated the only statement Jorrin had made since his father rode into the clearing.

She glanced at Jorrin, but he was studying his boots. Her stomach fluttered, and she clenched her fist at her side instead of reaching for his hand like she wanted to. He’d probably push her away, anyway. Her eyes smarted and she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

“Let’s go inside then,” Hadrian said, gesturing to his home.

She nodded, meeting the elf’s eyes before looking at Jorrin’s father. He offered her a small smile, which she returned.

Braedon’s appearance meant returning to her original plans and dark thoughts.

Hadrian had said the half-elf’s father was her only hope.

Cera was going to see about that.

 

****

 

Jorrin kicked himself. He was acting like a spoiled child.

His father had been at Hadrian’s cabin for two whole days. Two days of briefing, planning various strategies, approaches, and strong magic . . . but not two days of catching up on lost time and getting to know the man he’d left his childhood home to find.

Since reaching adulthood, he’d not had ill feelings toward his father. Selfish childhood desires were in the past.

The bitterness at Braedon’s physical appearance was a shock.

Fear and hurt had hit him, made him want to recede into the shadows. He was that abandoned little boy all over again and afraid if he said anything to Braedon, he’d have regretted it.

So, he’d remained silent, letting Hadrian and his father catch up happily, which had only irritated him even more.

Cera and Avery liked his charming father, too. They’d talked, laughed and eaten, all at ease with each other, as if they had known one another forever.

Shaking his head, he cursed himself.

Why couldn’t he have loosened up then?

He’d been quiet, unlike himself, staying in the corner near the fireplace, even sitting on the hearth next to the white wolf.

Every time he’d looked at him, Trikser had just thumped his tail and met his eyes.

Ironic.

Jorrin might’ve been amused at another time.

All the words he’d wanted to say to his father had dissolved on his tongue.

Even now, he was brooding outside Hadrian’s cabin at the edge of the woods, his hand buried in Grayna’s mane. She pawed the ground and bumped his other hand with her nose until he caressed her.

Smiling, he rested his forehead on her wider one. Jorrin suppressed the urge to throw his arms around her neck like a child. He hadn’t spent time with his horse since before he’d met up with Cera, and he missed it tremendously. The mare always calmed him.

“When are you going to give me a chance to talk to you? I’ve waited for two days, and I don’t want to wait any longer to talk to my son.”

Jorrin jumped. He’d not heard his father approach. “Two days? What about twenty turns?” He didn’t bother looking over his shoulder.

“I deserve that, but then again, you don’t know the whole story. Hadrian shared with me what he told you, what your mother told you, and let’s face it, it wasn’t much.” Though Braedon spoke calmly, Jorrin sensed hurt his father wasn’t trying to hide.

He should let it go, be grateful his father was with them, but a part of him wouldn’t let that happen. “What’s there to know? You left, and we were forced to cope without you.” Jorrin also didn’t bother to hide his emotions.

Highly trained, highly skilled empath, so why not give him the onslaught?

Emotions could tell his father how he was feeling much more than any words he could form.

“But you did. You and your mother were always survivors,” Braedon said, his tone irritatingly patient. “That’s how I knew you two would be all right. And you were.” He sucked in a breath, betraying some of the calm in his voice. “Did she tell you I had to leave? They were after me. They would’ve killed both of you. The two I love, not loved, more than anything else in this world.”

“Who is they? I’m always hearing about they, but no one can, or will, tell me about them. So how am I supposed to begin to understand why my father was forced to go away from me?” Jorrin whirled on his father, looking him in the eye for the first time since he arrived at Hadrian’s.

“They have another time and place. We have important things to do for your lovely Lady Ryhan. I know you understand that. I hope you won’t hate me forever. I promise I’ll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about me and why I had to leave, but not now.” Braedon paused, sighing. “I didn’t want to go, Jorrin. I love you. I love your mother, too. I never have and never will love another woman.”

“I have nothing more to say to you then.”

Assurances of love from the man meant nothing. Jorrin had to have information to accept any of his father’s justifications.

Braedon closed his eyes, pain radiating from him.

Sorrow and regret hit Jorrin’s empathic senses in waves, making his head throb.

Damn him.

Damn the magic he’d inherited from him, too.

Neither of them spoke.

Jorrin turned back to Grayna.

Braedon retreated, the door to the cabin opening and closing with a small thud that resounded in his temples.

He closed his eyes and buried his face against his dappled mare. “That went well.”

“Jorrin?”

Jorrin winced. He hadn’t heard Cera’s approach, either.

Why won’t everyone just leave me alone?

He’d not spoken to her since she’d answered his confession with the one word that cut him deeper than any ballad of rejection ever could have. He was as frustrated with her as he was with Braedon.

What was he supposed to say to her?

He was tired of her not wanting him.

“What is it, Cera?” Jorrin whirled on her like he had his father.

Her eyes widened and her face flushed. “I . . . I just . . . ” Cera’s voice wobbled. Then she clenched a fist, and her mouth set in a firm line. “Never mind. Talk to me when you’re not an idiot.”

Jorrin’s heart sank.

No. This isn’t how I want it.

As she turned away, his hand shot forward. Touching her sent an electric charge up his arm and he stared at his fingers enclosing her slender wrist.

Her skin was soft and he wanted to explore her more, pull her into his arms and kiss her, beg her to be with him. “Cera, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head and yanked away.

Jorrin released her and tried to cup her face, but she turned and backed away, squeezing her eyes shut, tears shining on her cheeks.

He was an arse.

A total arse.

He couldn’t stand to see her cry, yet he was here, causing her tears when she already had so much to deal with?

“Cera, I’m sorry,” Jorrin repeated, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

She shook her head once more, rushing away as Braedon had, slamming the cabin door.

Great, now everyone would know what an idiot he was.

Just what he deserved, right?

Jorrin’s vision blurred.

Crying?

Are you really crying?

As he belittled himself for not being much of a man, he took a few steps backward and leaned heavily on Grayna.

She whinnied, but the notion didn’t give him any comfort.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?