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Three weeks later…
Dade
Fang’s fist slammed onto the table, his a
I wanted out of this fucking room and inside my mate. We’d made plans.
Well, I’d made plans for us, but I was certain she wouldn’t mind.
Unperturbed by Fang’s outburst, Scythe rubbed his chin and threw his knee over his leg. “I don’t know what you want me to say. The captive won’t talk.”
We’d kept a collection of soldiers from the war waged by the humans. A war, we’d come to learn, that had indeed come about with the help of Sinshell. My brothers, though not thrilled about it, had agreed with me when I’d stated our time tormenting them was done—despite their duped plans of revenge.
For they had been duped, and in a huge way. Not only was my swan taken and forced to weave gold for the cretins under the guise of saving her family, but her mother was fooled into thinking those royal shits would actually lend them a helping hand in defeating me.
No. Their mission had been simple if pla
Now, they were curiously silent. What remained of their fleeing forces gone. Either they’d traveled back to Errin to heal and recoup before striking again, or they’d sailed across the Night Sea to return to their own countries.
Regardless, there was a good chance they’d be back.
Not only was that confirmed with the death of Prince Bron, and the volume of retreating numbers, but we’d also gleaned as much from our captives. A guard rotation was now enforced upon the Royal Cove, and more spies under my employ to keep tabs on the nobility, trade, and seas.
“Why?” Opal spoke up then, and Scythe seemed to startle as though remembering we now had a female in our presence. Neither he nor Fang were impressed when I’d decided to include my swan in our meetings as of last week, but the shock quickly wore off, and so did their reluctance to share important intel.
Especially after I’d threatened to kick them both out and leave the work of war and rebuilding to my mate and me.
My uncle was still alive. Unfortunately. He’d been given a promotion, too.
He now headed one of our new projects—the repair and restoration of Sinshell. I’d expected him to protest, but he’d simply nodded and vomited many thanks at mine and Opal’s feet before Nikaya had swept in with a grim look of determination. The two had left a week ago, Sinshell’s queen agreeing with what seemed a perverse pleasure to oversee the rebuilding of the fractured parts of her kingdom.
Stars, a fate worse than death if you asked me.
Yet I would soon be joining them. In a village far from where either of them would be working, thank you very much.
Opal had protested upon finding out, her worry over my presence so close to the border of Errin clipping each word as she’d suggested we both focus on rebuilding the ruined towns and villages here in Vordane.
It’d taken one ravishing kiss for her to remember who the fuck I was.
A creature not so easily bested—unless happened upon by a black swan.
So it took a night, but remember she most certainly did.
Scythe stared at my mate, and I bristled at the way he kept her waiting. Sighing, he drawled, “What do you mean, why? If I knew, I’d tell you,” he added dryly, “my queen.”
Opal smirked. “No, I’m referring to the humans overall. Why such large numbers? Why the sudden interest in ridding us from Nodoya?” Fang’s head tilted as he watched her, listening carefully. “They’ve never tried such a thing before because they know they ca
“Swan, I’m certain that smug as fuck prince assumed he could but,” I lifted a finger, feeling as though we were trying to catch something that kept evading us, “the armies from across the sea do not add up. More of our kind live on some of those continents…”
“Greed,” supplied Scythe. “Gold is gold, and we’ve all been to battle for far less.”
Opal’s eyes narrowed, and I studied her, then sighed. “Ponder that. We’ll reconvene in two mornings.” I stood from the table before anyone could protest, and held my hand out for Opal’s.
She eyed the map, the locations of places we’d brutalized in Sinshell now marked for different reasons, then looked at Scythe. “May I talk to her?” she asked, referring to a captive he’d taken upon himself to keep imprisoned in his home.
Scythe was halfway out the door when he grunted, “No, you may not.” I snarled, and he halted, turning back with a sigh. “Why?”
Opal slid her hand in mine, saying softly but firmly, “Perhaps another female would encourage her to talk.”
“A gentler approach, you mean?” He laughed through the words. “No, it does not care for such things as gentle.” He sketched a half-hearted bow. “Trust and excuse me.”
Fang watched him disappear into the dark hall, his lips rolling between his teeth, then followed.
“I’ll speak to him later,” I said between my teeth. The asshole was treading water with this captive situation, and it was begi
“No,” Opal said, leading me out the door. “Don’t meddle. I’ll try again next time.”
“You are a queen,” I reminded her, something I so often had to do. “You may do as you wish, and he knows it.” I gave her my best grin. “We’ll go visit this captive tomorrow.”
Opal smiled, her eyes laughing, and leaned into my side as we took the stairs that would lead us from the underbelly of the Keep. “No, you can’t abuse his trust.”
Prisoners moaned, cried, and shouted in the dungeon. It was spelled so no one could hear. No one save for the wolves.
She was right. A creature with a history such as Scythe’s… it wouldn’t matter that I was his king. His loyalty to me would be decimated if I disrespected him in that way.
Pushing thoughts of war, repairs, my shithead friends, and a myriad of other issues from my mind, I led Opal to my rooms. Well, our rooms. She’d been staying with me since she’d woken up after the attack on Vordane. I’d refused to let her leave my sight for days, and she seemed happiest when I did not stray from hers.
She passed me a confused glance when I tugged her from the doors and to the door of her old quarters.
I bit back a shit-eating grin as the wood swung open to reveal her new perfumery slash mending room slash library.
Upon one row of floor-to-ceiling white shelves, the titles I’d often seen her reread, and others I thought were of the same vein enough that she’d like them too, were tucked neatly. There were some empty rows for her to add to the collection as she saw fit. On the next shelf over sat glass bottles, vials, bowls filled with mismatched corks, ribbon, twine, differing oils, salts, and mixing pots.
In the corners of the room were rolls of fabrics upon stands, and on the shelves beside them, more materials folded and stacked. The afternoon sun splashed over them and Opal’s roaming fingers as they swayed over it all with a reverence I grew hard and nearly jealous from.
And I would’ve been, if she didn’t treat me in the same ma
I’d done plenty of hideous things in my life, yet I would never know it from the way she adored me. And though a better male might, I lost no time lamenting how undeserving I was. She was mine, and I would rather rot than waste time not enjoying all I’d been blessed with.