Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4) (10 page)

“No longer did my mind burn to devour you,” he said, searching her snowflake eyes. “Instead, a new song rang loudly within me. A tune I’d never heard before. Now… I wish only to win your love. To
win
your heart, not
claim
your body.”

The tightening sensation now filling her chest was almost painful.
Who is this man?
she thought.

“And… what were you planning on doing with my heart, once it was yours?” Her voice quivered slightly.

“Aye, Milady,” he said, smiling shyly and blushing ever so lightly. “I cannot possibly fathom ever being so lucky. Yet if by some great miracle you granted me your rare favor, I would treasure it above life itself.”

She searched those enchanting eyes of his and could find no lie within them. Still, this whole conversation was oddly déjà vu and splendidly brand new at the same time. Elation and trepidation swirled within her muddled mind.

“How can I trust such sweet words from one who admits using them to cause harm in the past?”

He absently caressed her back, was lost in her eyes. The rest of the world fell away for this warrior. Her fair voice and enchanting smile were the only things he could think of. His need for them was all-consuming, and he reveled in the wondrous feeling.

“I am a new man, wee snowflake,” he said. “I even know the exact moment it happened. I was pierced through and through. Mortally wounded by love, yet knew it not.”

Jenevier’s pulse quickened, her heartbeat was likened unto a flutter.

What is this? When did I begin to lose control, begin to melt inside? Why am I finding it so hard to breathe? Why can’t I pull my eyes from this glorious man? It’s terrifying… I love it. I wish this moment to continue without ceasing
. She swallowed hard, feared her voice would betray her. “Tell me, good Finnean. When were you pierced?”

“When first you stepped from behind my King,” he said. “The very moment I was blessed to look upon your enchanting ghostly form. You didn’t even spare me a passing glance; gave no notice whatsoever to my presence. Yet my breath stilled in my lungs.”

As he spoke, Finnean used his fingertip to lightly trace the outline of her collarbone, out to the tip of her shoulder and slowly back again.

“Do not hate me for the truth of my coming words, fairest Princess. But… always before… I would look upon a rare beauty and feel a stirring within my loins.”

His words were raw, unnerving. They embarrassed her. She began to feel trapped, a bit uncomfortable. She tried to look away.

Finnean lightly placed a finger to her chin, turning her back to him, forcing her to look upon his face, to be captured by his possessive gaze.

“Alas, things were not so when I beheld you, Maiden,” he whispered. “When I was blessed with my first glimpse of your delicate face… there was a fierce tightness growing and swelling within my chest, within my heart.” He traced tiny circles on her cheek with the tip of his nose, his breath landing hot upon her tingling flesh. “And I believe that’s why your so-called poisonous curse was so uncontrollable for me. I also believe it’s why, when you unbound me, you not only released me, you freed me. Unshackled my smitten heart, gave it the liberty to love you openly. Just as I secretly had upon sight, lovely Gealach.”

Her breath hitched as his beautiful lips drew closer. She felt faint.

Finnean paused a fraction before they touched, and whispered warmly against her waiting mouth. “I will not force you, ever again. I have determined to be content with waiting until you accept me, Milady. The only way I can ever truly be happy, is with your
acceptance
of my love.” He stared deep into her eyes. “How fares your heart concerning me, white Princess? Has my confession fallen upon a stone? Or does its glory now take root within you? Do you think you could ever love one such as me? If you cannot, then will you bless me by naming me your sworn knight? If your heart is not meant to be mine, will you at least let me serve and protect you, claim a place at your side as your loyal warrior?”

She tenderly rubbed her nose against the tip of his, making tiny little circles as she smiled. Sliding her hands up his arms, she gently locked them behind his neck. Tiptoeing to meet his waiting lips, Jenevier closed off the distance remaining between them.

His heated response to her gentle kiss was knee-weakening. She felt his racing heart beating wildly within his chest, thrumming against her own. She knew in that moment… she could never part from him. This was the first thing she could ever remember wanting, truly
wanting
, with a possessive passion that was almost consuming. She wanted this valiant man’s noble heart. She wanted to own it, as he now owned hers.

Jenevier felt the warm tear land upon her cheek as it fell from his loosely closed eyes.

He sheds tears for our first real kiss
, she thought.
Why does this man stir forgotten places within me? How has he effortlessly eased my heart into trusting him? This is something Otherworldly, something magical. I cannot let him go, will not let him go.

As their lips slowly parted, unbidden smiles adorned their happy faces.

“How is it you are real?” he whispered, lightly kissing her forehead. “Has Fate led you to me, wee moon? Have I finally pleased the gods? Did I do anything worthy of such a gift? Or is your gentle heart an undeserved blessing?”

“Every blessing has a curse, every curse has a blessing,” she softly whispered. “Be very careful, Milord. I may not be your reward. I may be your punishment… and you mine.”

“I care not if you are blessing or curse, punishment or reward. You are mine, Gealach. Do you understand me?” His embrace tightened as his lips went to her neck, his words tickling warmly across her tender places. “You are mine.”

“As you are mine,” she whispered, causing his arms to tighten to the point of restricting her breathing.

Finnean slowly, gently, regretfully, released her. “The King is not known for his patience, wee Princess. He’ll tan both our hides if we stay much longer.” He twisted one of her curls around his finger. “Your father wasn’t teasing when he warned you away from me. I have been by his side since I was a child. He knows me. He’ll not easily accept what it is we now share. He will think I’m playing about with his only daughter’s rare heart.”

“Are you, Lord Finnean? Playing about with his only daughter’s heart?” She smiled sweetly.

He chuckled. “I fear
your
wrath more than his, wee lass. I saw how you dealt with good Gráda. That could’ve been no easy thing. Gráda has slain countless men, with his blade and his bare hands alike. I wouldn’t relish the thought of standing against the man. Yet you… you casually strolled up to him as would a lover, and claimed his life with but a breath. I may be quick to fight, my love, yet I am no fool. I do not jest with you, now or ever. I
claimed
you, Gealach. That in itself should be proof enough of my heart.”

“Very well, brave knight.” She giggled as she turned. “I must finish the delectable task I started before dawn. Eògan told me Father bade Luag fetch a switch. I’ll not have stripes upon my legs for the sake of tea, no matter how delicious it may be.”

“I will gladly take your lashes, Milady. For that kiss alone, I would bear a thousand.” He yanked one of her curls as he tossed more rose petals into the basket. She giggled.

The new lovers laughed and talked on their way back to the modest home holding her waiting new family. Finnean fetched the water and heated the stove, while Jenevier ground the delicate petals and other seasonings together in the old stone mortar. The keen whistling pot brought them all to the table. She watched their faces as they relished in the intoxicating aroma and sweet taste of her favorite drink.

But… Why is this my favorite drink? How did I even know how to make it? And, why do I crave it so badly?

“What did you do to my white warrior, Milady?” Brodder leaned over and whispered in her ear, jerking her wondering mind back to the present.

She chuckled softly from the sensation of his warm breath tickling her snowy cheek. “What are you teasing about, Father?”

“Don’t play with me, Princess,” he said. “I watched as you neared our home, hand in hand, whispering to one another, wearing twin smiles that sparkled all the way up to your eyes.” He kissed the side of her head, holding her there for a couple more heartbeats before continuing. “I have known him since he was but a lad. Something has changed within my snow-crowned general. Something’s different.” He cut his eyes toward the man in question. “The set of his shoulders, the creases upon his brow, the way in which he carries himself, even his gait has changed. He seems… lighter… younger, mayhap.” Brodder looked back to his tiny heir and only child. “So I ask you again, sweet daughter. What spell did you cast upon my trusted Hand?”

Jenevier turned to look her adoring father in the eye. “Finnean is your Hand?”

Brodder nodded. “Aye, Lass. That he is. As I said, a more loyal heart has yet to be born. Now, answer me true. Tell me what rare magic was born this dawn, Milady.”

“I did not bespell him, Your Grace. I know not how to cast
or
divine.” She focused on her twiddling fingers, trying to hide her widening smile. “Besides, Father, no breathing creature possesses as great a magic as what the heart can produce. There’s no enchantment stronger than is love.”

She felt him stiffen beside her, and then ever so slowly relax once more.

“Did I not warn you of his type of
love
?” Brodder asked. “I told you he plays with women. He is a faithful warrior and a trusted brother, yes. But I know the lad. And, well… you’re my daughter.”

“You did warn me, Father, yes. And I tried to heed your words, truly I did. But neither of us could deny this feeling. We were powerless against its infinite pull.” She slowly exhaled, a twisting nausea growing in the pit of her stomach. “Finnean knew how you would feel about this, about us. He told me, if you asked this thing, if you questioned his heart concerning me, I am to tell you this… He
claimed
me.”

The King furrowed his brow, making her turn to face him proper. “He said that, did he? Think hard, Gealach. Were those his exact words?”

“Yes, Father. Those were his very words.” She nodded as she spoke. “He bade me repeat it precisely… thrice, no less. Finnean wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding. He claimed me, Father. And he was adamant about you believing him in this.”

Brodder released a long breath. He tenderly kissed her temple and silently rested his forehead there.

Jenevier reveled in the feel of his healing warmth, of his healing love

“I can see what you say is true, wee moon.” He sighed resignedly into her hair. “He was the rarest creature to walk this land from his birth. None were as angelic nor as handsome as that fair-haired warrior sitting over there. Well, not until you fell here and stole his thunder.” He chuckled softly. “Perhaps you were made for each other. Perhaps you didn’t fall, Gealach. Perhaps you were sent. Alas, it is as it should be, my wee darling.” He wrapped his arm across her shoulders. “Go in peace, precious daughter. You have my noble blessing in anything your heart so desires.”

Finnean watched closely their touching exchange. His heart swelled when her eyes met his, a radiant smile on her pale face. Relief swept over him. Only now could he breathe without pain. Only now did the wild coursing within his veins slow to a rhythmic hum.

*****

Yet Finnean’s weren’t the only curious eyes to behold their tender exchange. He wasn’t the only witness to this morning’s strange events. Two more sets of prying eyes remained in the distance, drinking in all these extraordinary happenings.

The gray-eyed man hadn’t simply found her here, he had followed her. When he saw her color drain from her body, watched it slowly sucked away and into the mouth of that jealous Elven girl, he raced to her side. No longer did he care if she discovered him. His very soul rocked as he felt the unspeakable violation happening within her. He made it to her side just as she entered those clouds, that heavenly
Door to Anywhere
. He heard her hit the ground. It resonated, strangely, throughout his being. He didn’t go to her. He knew she lived. He decided to keep the comfortable distance that had always separated them. He hadn’t moved from this spot since the older giant of a man she now lived with, had carried her inside the solitary old house, far removed from anyone and everything.

But the other creature, the woman sitting amongst the sparse treetops, she was new. This was the first time the silent gray-eyed man had seen her here.

*****

She took flight, gliding from her perched hiding spot, leaving the little home behind.

How is this even possible?
the woman thought.
A bond stronger than blood, forged in but an instant, deep enough to weave as precious a tie as father and daughter? Fascinating… I must claim this rare magic for myself.

Her mind was still racing with possibilities as she neared the large stone castle on Val Hal.

Chapter 11

Valencia

(vah-LIN-cee-ah)

The Silver Witch flew back to her stolen home, rage and jealousy coursing wildly throughout her quaking cells, clouding her anxious mind.

Drostan felt the wind from her wings as it blew across his desk, causing his unbound hair to fly wildly about his face. He may not be able to see his master unless she permits it, but he always knew when she entered. And he always knew when she was angry. He hurriedly tried to smooth back his ruffled locks as he picked up the many papers now blowing about the room. Yes, he could always tell when she was angry. This time… she was livid.

He entered the great hall with his head bowed, eyes lowered. Drostan had learned a long time ago not to question her. He still bore the scars to remind him, lest he forget. He would wait until she spoke. He always waited for her words to come first. He would offer no advisement whatsoever, and immediately obey all she commanded him.

Her enraged breathing, as it hissed in and out over her sharp teeth, was the only sound to be heard within the whole of the massive room. Minutes passed. His heart rate rose in correlation with her emotions, slowing only as her breathing returned to normal.

“Drostan.”

“My Queen.”

“I am vexed.”

He didn’t speak.

“As you know, I followed that simpering piece of trash. I was right not to trust Gráda. His loyalty ran too deep.” She revealed her presence as she wearily collapsed onto the giant stolen throne. “He is no longer mine. He has returned his heart to his King.”

The silent man took care not to expose the trace of joy leaping about within his heart at her words. The deep lines creasing his brow, caused by Gráda’s deceit, slowly relaxed, smoothing out, melting away.

“The old King has acquired a strange ally,” she continued.

Drostan’s ears perked up. His years of painful
conditioning
had taught him well how to hide his emotions. That same training now paid off, his face revealing nothing of his heart.

She leapt from the throne… movements so fast he could barely register them, bright ethereal eyes stopping only inches from the wordless, bowing man.

“Look upon me. Tell me what you see.”

It took great effort from him just to raise his head. He hadn’t the strength to meet her piercing gaze.

“My Queen?”

“Describe me, Drostan. Tell me what it is you see when you look upon me.”

His heart began to shudder within his chest, his throat closing painfully tight. His mind was filled with the remembrance of his own bitter screams bouncing off these stone walls, echoing through his tortured mind. The clacking sound of her cat o’ nine tails as the claws came together just before the whip snapped. Her favorite metal tipped
cat
had bitten through the scarred flesh of his back only a few short months ago. She’d sworn that would be the last time… he knew better.

Impatiently drawing air in over her razor sharp canines, she glared at him. That familiar hissing sound pulled his thoughts back to the present, forcing him to focus on her lethal beauty. He faltered.

“Tell me what you see,” she demanded.

“Y-your skin glows…” He swallowed hard. “…pulsing like a faceted gem, priceless and spellbinding. Your hair is rare spun silver, my Queen. And your enchanting eyes rival the very heavens.” His trembling voice softened. “Bluer than the skies after the summer rains, they are. Your age is a mystery, eternal youth kisses your cheeks, blesses your lovely throat. Your radiant smile is as glorious as it is lethal. I crave it more than air. You own an angelic beauty, Milady, one that’s beyond compare, beyond description.”

Her flawless shoulders slumped forward. She turned from him, wearily resuming her throne.

“Have you ever beheld a creature within this realm…” Her words were muffled, head resting in her hands. “…any creature, completely absent color?”

“My Liege?”

She blew out an exasperated sigh. “Have… you… ever… seen… such… a… creature?”

He cowered, flinching back from the accompanying hiss of her deliberate words. “I know not of the creature you speak, Your Grace. I have never heard a story of one such as this, nor read of their likeness in the accords.”

She closed her flaming eyes, letting her head fall back against the intricate Celtic carvings of ancient wars and forgotten legends.

“Nor have I,” she whispered.

Drostan remained silent, closely following her gliding movements to the nearby window.

She stared blindly out at her kingdom. “There was a woman…” She didn’t turn to look at him as she spoke. “…a woman such as this was with the old King. I saw her today. She was completely absent color except for some strange black markings covering her left hand and a single curl in front, here.” She absently touched the same spot on her head. “It was black as well. Yet… still… it was minus color. I can’t explain it properly. The black had no sheen, no life to it. Her skin, all of it, even her lips, was as fresh snow—absent glow entirely. Much like a corpse, yet not. Her hair was silver, but not as mine. It lacked the sparkle, the glow. It was silver, yet… muted. It was like, gray or white… but neither.” She turned then to her silent servant. “She didn’t boast a single spark of life. She was walking and talking and smiling. Yet she was absent any trace of…
life
. It was like… she was hewn from marble, no blood pumping within to color her lips or flush her cheeks.” She paused a moment, her eyes focusing on nothing. “She was completely void
all
things—color, light, heart, fire, even soul. And worse still… she
knew
she was empty,
knew
she was a void. It was eerie, Drostan. She expertly walked through the pretext of being unique but normal. But it’s a lie, a fragile façade. This strangely made woman… she was as blank as a new canvas. Drawn, yet… not finished.”

He could only stare at her, hesitant. Never had he seen a look upon her face as the one she now wore.

What churns within her mind? Is it confusion? Curiosity? Or, perhaps… it’s fear.

“Drostan. Drostan, I am speaking to you.”

He heard her words as his mind slowly returned from his hope-filled thoughts. “My Queen?”

She sighed. “I said, have you ever heard tell of such a creature? Did the old-ones here never tell stories of a woman such as this?”

“No, my Queen. As I have said, never.” He straightened his back, giving her his full attention. “Never have I heard a legend or even a fairytale containing a woman such as her.”

The Silver Witch turned back to the window. “Nor have I,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “Was it perhaps… a demon? Did one remain behind after the wretched war, after the apocalypse?”

“That was not the apocalypse, Drostan. And no. She is no demon.” Her voice was icy. “I know demons… I know Angels as well. Neither one can claim this maiden.” She turned to face him. “I have told you very little about the unknown, my friend. But know this. There’s a vast universe out there, many other realms besides yours. I’ve been to them all. Never have I seen a creature minus color completely.
My
race would probably come the closest. Yet… she is not of us.”

He spoke before he realized it. “Angels and demons are a race?”

“Demons are not. A person of any race can become a demon if they are vile enough in life, that is.” She narrowed her eyes as an angry fire smoldered within the lovely blue. “Angels? I wouldn’t define them as a race, no. At least, not in the way you’re thinking. As vastly different as Angels and demons can appear to the eye, none look as she does. No, Drostan. Neither group, race or no, can claim this maid.”

“What is it about this particular woman that troubles you so, Your Highness?”

She sighed loudly. The exasperated noise made him blanch. He’d lowered his guard, had spoken freely with her. If he didn’t squelch his tongue, this day would end with his tormented screams. He quickly bowed his head again.

“I cannot describe it, Drostan,” she said, turning back to the window.

The man’s shoulders visibly tensed when she said his name. He waited for the coming blow.

She continued, “I suppose what troubled me the most was her lack of smell. All creatures, all races, every single thing that draws breath has a scent. She does not. She smells of nothing. I didn’t get close enough to taste her. Yet I’m certain no hint of her would be left upon my tongue. Still, she holds
some
form of great magic—of that I am certain. Brodder and his trusted brothers hold her precious in their hearts.”

Drostan remembered
her
scent. When first they’d met, his lovely Silver Queen, her enticing aroma invoked his inner beast. He unwillingly smiled at the delicious thought. Then he recalled how Brian and Eògan had sworn he was mad, saying she had no scent at all.

Perhaps the colorless maid gives off such an aroma, one meant for only a chosen few
, he thought.

She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him back to the present, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“Are you even listening to me?” she growled. “I saw them, Drostan. I spied upon them only a couple weeks ago, three at the most. She wasn’t among them. She cannot possibly have been here very long. How is it they love her already?”

“She charmed them?” His question wavered within his hearing.

She released him, giving his shoulders a little shove when she did. “Perhaps. They are only men, after all. It’s easy for a woman to trick men into
love
.”

He didn’t miss the vicious glint in her eye, and she didn’t want him to. She was speaking of him, and made certain he knew it.

The broken man dropped his head in defeat. He remembered well the power she had claimed over him with but a glance. One single glance, one tiny smile, one touch of her tongue, and he eagerly betrayed his King and his country. The guilt of his actions weighed heavily upon his once noble heart. Yet, if that black day were to repeat itself, he knew, painfully did he know, not a single thing about it would be changed. It would always and forever play out the same. He was powerless in her regard. And he had accepted his painfully dark fate a long time ago.

“Why so glum, old friend?” she whispered mockingly.

Cupping his cheek in her hand, the beautiful silver woman tenderly stroked his face with her thumb. He shuddered with desire.

“Do you regret meeting me, Drostan? Do you regret the time we’ve spent together? Hmm? Tell me. Do you wish you’d never tasted my lips? Never ran your fingers over my celestial body? Never known the pleasures of my flesh?”

With the conjured memories pulsing within him, he pulled her to him, breathing in her alluring scent. “No, my Queen,” he whispered. “I will never regret a single day I have been blessed to know you.” He lightly kissed her neck. “You are my world, sweet Valencia.”

The slap was sharp and painful, unexpected. It spun his head, nearly claimed his balance.

Valencia grabbed him by his long tresses, hissing her warning in his ear. “Never call me by
that
name, ever again. To do so will forfeit your very life.”