Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (24 page)

Every time a choice presented itself, he’d chosen me.

But the Council now needed guidance and his kingdom needed a Prince.

Ancelin had helped my father and appointed me guardian of his people. Beneath all that stubborn blustering, I suspected the real reason he wanted his son back was for the opportunity to mend what had been fractured years ago.

A wise selkie once told me those who protected needed protection the most.
 

This time, Tristan needed to choose himself.
 

I leaned in. The kiss was soft and slow, a delicate exploration of the other’s lips. His taste and scent filled me, intoxicating, deliciously enthralling, and I wanted more, an endless supply to hold within me.

He made a sound low in his throat. Warm fingers curled around the nape of my neck and drew me back to bed.

“We need to go,” I murmured against his lips.

He rested his forehead against mine. “Why does everyone have such terrible timing?”

I forced myself to pull away and look into his beautiful eyes. My chest hurt.

“Maybe we’re the ones with awful timing.”

“Unthinkable.” His finger brushed my cheek. “I have something for you.”

He dressed and strode to the large wardrobe along the south wall. Moonlight bathed his back in a soft glow, highlighting smooth skin and the lean, hard lines of his body. Every movement was swift and assured, the epitome of agile, graceful power.

I wondered if I’d ever tire of looking at him.

He opened a drawer and removed a small box, wrapped in sky blue paper.

“For you.”

I reluctantly accepted it and sat on the edge of the bed.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You didn’t have to,” I croaked.

Amusement danced across his face. “Did you really forget your eighteenth birth—“

“Not yet.”

“In two hours it will be.” He crouched before me. “I was planning on giving this to you tomorrow but since I won’t be here, it’ll have to be now.”

I gingerly removed the paper, savoring every fold, every crease.

It was the first gift I’d unwrapped in fifteen years.

“A year ago, I gave you music because I wanted you to have something outside of death and war, something that reminded you of life.”

His words echoed, the memory still as vibrant as if he’d said them yesterday.

There is so much horror and pain in this world. Sometimes, the only thing we can do is hang on to the beauty. It reminds us we’re still alive.

I removed the lid of the box and stared.

Slowly, carefully, I removed what was nestled within it.

A current of magic seeped into my skin, familiar and comforting.

The bracelet was a miniature
pedaillon,
complete with a brilliant, ruby stone dangling off the chain.

“I asked the Armicant to construct something for the guardian of my people.”

The exquisite craftsmanship conveyed an elegant strength, the stone’s dark red luster promising passion and retribution, regal mercy and a warrior’s judgment.
 

Resilience.

The color, rich like blood, resonated within me as if something buried deep in my DNA recognized it.

“Of course, it doesn’t hold selkie skin. But the Armicant infused it with some part of you. I felt it the moment I saw it.”
 

I felt it, too. This belonged to me.

“
Kahliev
,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he said softly. “So you may remember what is always inside you.”

Words tumbled and piled on top of each other, catching in the ache at the back of my throat. The pressure in my chest grew, the dam swelling and straining, ready to burst.
 

I kissed him fiercely. Deeply.

With that kiss I gave voice to every fear and need, every vulnerability and doubt I could never say aloud.

His fingers trailed up my arm, tenderly stroked my collarbone, my neck, my jaw, absorbing the weight of my unspoken self.

I slowly blinked away the evidence of childish yearnings, soothed the quivering remains of long forgotten dreams.

By the time we broke apart, my eyes were dry, my voice steady. “Thank you.”

“I’ll call you once I get there.”

I managed a smile. “Tell your father I’ve been working on the
grevaol
maneuver. I want a rematch.”

He laughed. The sound wound through my core, tangling with every part of me like the momentary embrace of moon and sun.
 

“I’m sure he’d like that.”

And with one final brush of his lips against mine, Tristan was gone.

***

“This is a trap.”

During the day, the Governor’s office gave an aura of impenetrable power and authority. But moonlight softened the cold marble and sharp lines of the mahogany furniture.

Under the quiet cover of night, the Marquisa appeared almost normal.

“No trap.” I levelly met Patrice’s gaze. “No distractions, no Irisavies. You’d be getting everything you wanted.”
 

“Original Magic will not allow this to happen.”

“It’s been done before. There’s a legal precedent.”

Admittedly, it was a pretty flimsy one from several hundred years ago. But Jeeves had assured me it would stand up to scrutiny.

“Why me? Why not another Council member?”

“Because of what you did in the Selkie Kingdom.”
 

Patrice had fought alongside us, using her Virtue to extinguish a devastating fire. While Redavi scrambled in panic, Patrice had stood on a cliff, surrounded by Aquidae, and lifted the ocean waters so others could escape.

Despite her fears, she’d done the right thing at a crucial moment.
 

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you order my son to go with you?”

“Of course not.”

“But you did order him to stay on as Head Chevalier.”

“Julian is the best chevalier I know.”

Her mouth tightened. “Because of his magic.”

“Because of his bravery.”
 

She studied me for a long moment. Fine lines spread from the corners of her eyes and a faint weariness shadowed the curves and hollows of her face.

“You are relinquishing your name, your family heritage,” she finally said. “You are the last of the Irisavies. To do this is beyond irresponsible —“

“This is about more than names and titles. And I am more than just an Irisavie.”

Something unreadable flickered deep in her eyes.

I waited. Everything hinged on her acceptance.

Patrice stood. Any hint of vulnerability was gone, replaced by her usual mask of haughty arrogance.

“Very well, Kendra. You have my word.”
 

That wasn’t good enough and she knew it. “Will you sign the paperwork necessary to secure our agreement?”

She stiffened slightly but nodded. “Have Augustin bring me whatever you wish me to sign.”

Satisfied, I extended my hand. “Nice doing business with you, Marquisa.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste, but had enough courtesy to limply shake my hand before leaving.

All that remained was the person to lock everything in place.

Jeeves waited for me at the large table in the center of the library. Artfully placed lighting cast soft illumination across the wood-paneled room. Power murmured, emanating from the words written and preserved on these shelves.

At my approach, he
 
glanced up from a document. “I’m putting the final touches on this. I trust you were successful with Patrice?”

The note of tension in his voice was equivalent to a scream. I could only imagine how awkward this was for him.

“She agreed to the terms and is willing to sign.”

“The two you’ve chosen to accompany you.” He paused. “May I ask why?”

“Because they both have something to prove. One to his mother. The other to the ondine he loves.”
 

“And there is perhaps no greater motivation to succeed than pride.” Periwinkle eyes appraised me for a long moment. “Very clever.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

I gestured toward the document. “Will this work?”

“I believe the wording sufficiently covers every possible angle. Although this last point about what would happen if she —“

“What can I say?” I made a poor attempt at a smile. “I have hope.”

He put his pen down and rubbed his face. “Will you tell me where you’re going?”

“You know I can’t.” The less he knew, the better. Plausible deniability. “Is security taken care of?”

“You’ll have a window of five minutes.” A pause. “I watched you grow up.”
 

The softly spoken words echoed with nostalgia. He rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers.

“It was a time when I struggled with my own magic and place in this world. Naida pushed you so hard and yet you continued to live with such determination…” He shook his head. “Rhian desperately wanted to see her child and grandchild. She sent me as often as she did because she understood I needed to see you more.”

“Jeeves—“

“The change we’ve only waited for has finally come. But what matters most remains the same.” Warm hands covered mine. “I will handle things here. Be who you need to be.”

I leaned over and hugged him. “Thank you.”
 

His arms tightened. “Be careful, Kendra.”

I pulled away, picked up my duffel bag, and exited before I could change my mind.

I didn’t look back.

Rhian’s portrait still hung in the main foyer. I paused before the enormous painting and faced the steely hazel eyes peering down at me.
 

“I’m leaving.”
 

A part of me still hoped for a sign, something to tell me that what I was doing was right.

But there was nothing.

The painting remained immobile and silent, a frozen moment from a time long gone.

I stepped through the large ebony doors into the chilly spring night.
 

They waited for me beside the car parked at the bottom of the grand, marble staircase.

Cam met my gaze, gave a brief nod, then opened the door and climbed into the backseat.

Julian leaned against the car hood, so still he melted into the darkness.

They didn’t trust each other. Hell, they probably didn’t trust me right now.

But they were the two I needed.
 

Cam and Julian were outsiders who wouldn’t miss Haverleau. And to be honest, Haverleau wouldn’t miss them much, either.

They preferred taking action and were at their best in fight mode. Having something to prove made them hungry.

More importantly, they’d both been right about the Shadow.

Julian dug his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight. The line of his neck appeared fragile in the moonlight.

“Are you bringing me for my magic?”

“What?”

“You don’t want to be found.” He motioned. “If you don’t suppress your aura, Aquidae will see you coming. The bigger problem will be the gardinels coming after you.”

“Your magic helps. But that’s not why I want you to come with me.”

I could’ve slipped out and evaded the selkies without any help from his Virtue and he knew it.

A long pause. “Then why?”

“Because you’re my partner. I can’t do this without you.”

He gazed at me through hooded eyes, his expression inscrutable, untouchable.

In that moment, I suddenly realized how important his reaction was to me.

I needed him to believe in me.

I needed my friend.

He straightened and opened the door. “I’m still driving.”

“For now.”

He slid behind the wheel, but not before I caught the tiny smile ghosting across his mouth.

The night air warmed.

I hurried into the passenger seat. “I still don’t get why we can’t take my car.”

“Because the point is to leave quietly.” Julian started the engine. “If we took your car, everyone within a five mile radius would hear us.”

“That lump of scrap metal is a health hazard,” Cam muttered from the back.

At least they agreed on something.

Julian rested his hands on the wheel.

“What are you waiting for? We only have five—”

“Hang on,” he murmured.

The clock on the dashboard blinked midnight.
 

“Happy Birthday.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Thanks.”

He shifted gears and smoothly navigated out of the Governing Complex on to the main road winding through Haverleau.

I didn’t know what surprised me more. The fact that he didn’t gloat about having that info, or that his greeting was sincere and not hidden behind a sardonic veneer.

Cam leaned in. “Why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday?”
 

It hadn’t even crossed my mind. “I don’t celebrate it.”

After Dad died, birthdays had no longer been a priority.

Oddly enough, my time in Haverleau were linked to them.

At seventeen, I’d arrived, unaware and alone, as the Shadow made his first move into the open.
 

At eighteen, I was leaving, as chevalier and the
sondaleur
, to hunt him down.

“Why are we taking the main gate?” Julian glanced at me. “Would’ve been easier to go behind the Academy.”

“Because if she told Jeeves about it, that access trail wouldn’t be a secret anymore,” Cam said shrewdly.

That was partially true. Academy students deserved to hold on to their treasured means of rule breaking for a little while longer.

But the larger truth was about me.
 

Sneaking out was no longer an option.

The first time I’d entered Haverleau wasn’t on my terms. It’d been in service to duty, prophecy, and inheritance.

Leaving it needed to be my choice.

The main gate loomed ahead, the car’s lights casting an eerie glow across the wrought-iron rods.

12:02.

No gardinel greeted us.
 

Jeeves’ distraction had successfully drawn the on-duty selkie away from his post. The next shift was scheduled for 12:15 and gardinels often showed up ten minutes early.

Three minutes left in a five-minute window.