He did not even need to speak, using mental thoughts to have his guard surround his side and back and keep the wizards from harming Trista, for he knew she still held the key to her magic, knew the power she gave him would only help temporarily.
They would never be able to fight off so many of the evil lords amassing to fight. They must want this faerie’s magic badly to send so many of their own to take it from her.
He would protect it as long as he could, or die trying.
“I love you, Trista,” he whispered, refusing to let her go, even though he knew he could fight better if he wasn’t holding her. But he would not risk one of the wizards taking her from him.
But then a thunder came from the other side of the forest, a crashing as limbs shook so hard that even the wizards paused, their sunken eyes widening in shock and fear. Braedon held his breath, wondering what manner of beast would come forth, but then he expelled it in relief as he saw the elvin guard, led by a fierce-looking warrior with flowing dark hair and a sword raised high over his head, engaging the wizards in a violent battle that gave Braedon and his guards renewed strength.
Now the wizards were the ones outmatched. Though they continued to battle, soon they were fleeing overhead, their angry screams echoing in the night skies above, until the forest was emptied and the evil dissipated, leaving only the stars visible and the moon overhead.
Braedon looked down at Trista, closing his eyes and with his will transferring her magic back to her. The tall, imposing elvin leader approached, laying his hand on her forehead.
“Trista.” He looked up at Braedon. “I am Roarke, captain of the guard of Garick, King of Winterland, who has bestowed upon me the Kingdom of Boreas.”
Braedon nodded. “You have my thanks. You and your people are welcome at Greenbriar.”
“Is she injured?”
“I do not know. She gave me her magic.”
Roarke nodded. “Aye. Her sister Solara did the same for me in a recent battle I fought with the wizards. Solara will know what to do. She is with me but protected from this battle, though nearby. I will fetch her and meet you at the castle.”
Solara. His former betrothed. And Roarke, the elvin male Trista said Solara loved instead. Braedon nodded and lifted Trista onto his horse, hurrying back to the castle to await the arrival of Roarke and Solara.
He hoped they were not too late to save Trista’s life. He had much to say to the woman he loved.
Trista felt far away, as if reality were just out of her grasp and she had to struggle so hard to reach for it.
She fought, hearing the voices of those she loved compelling her to return to them.
“Trista, come back to us, sweet sister.”
She heard her sister Solara, she knew she had! She could not be dreaming it, but ‘twas like swimming against the tide in the strong northern oceans. And she was tired. So very tired.
“My faerie.”
And that…that was Braedon’s voice.
“We have much to discuss and you have slept long enough, lazy one. ‘Tis time for you to awaken.” His voice, so deep it entered her very bones and made her shudder with the need to touch him, to run her fingertips along his skin. She swam harder, closing her eyes and concentrating on her magic to give her strength to make it to shore.
Suddenly she felt all her sisters surrounding her. Noele and the twins, Elisa and Mina. Their magic filled her and gave her the power she needed to open her eyes.
At first she only saw haze and darkened shapes, but she felt no fear. Only love and magic. She felt a hand in hers and instinctively knew it was her sister.
“Solara,” she whispered.
“Aye, little minx. Now focus and come fully back to me. How can I yell at you if you are lying abed ill and near death?”
Trista smiled. “I am trying. Give me but a moment and you can be angry.” Solara laughed, the sound like the music of angels. “Hurry. I have been waiting a long time and I have a list of your transgressions.”
“I have been waiting too, my faerie.”
“Braedon.”
She blinked and focused on the dark shape looming over her bed, her vision clearing. He leaned over her, his blue eyes so like the sea of D’Naath. And he was smiling.
“Are you angry with me too, Braedon?”
“No, I am not angry,” he said, his face giving away nothing of his emotions. He was neither smiling nor frowning. “And we too have much to discuss. So you need to get well.”
“I am well, now.” She started to sit up, but dizziness assailed her and she laid her head back on the pillow. “Or I will be in a moment.”
“You rest.” He laid his hand on your shoulder. “There is time for us to talk. Visit with your sister for a while. Our talk can wait.”
She did not want to wait. Then again, perhaps she could wait to hear what she knew he wanted to tell her.
That he could not marry her. That despite saving her brother, he could never forgive her for putting Donny at risk, that they were a poor match. They had differing goals and outlooks on life and would never mesh well.
She looked down at her lap, refusing to let him see how unhappy she was. “All right, Braedon. We will talk later.”
“I will accompany Braedon so you and Trista can talk,” Roarke said, leaning over to kiss Trista on the forehead. “Brat,” he whispered, then followed up with a whispered, “Thank you.” Trista stared open-mouthed at Roarke’s retreating form.
After they left the room, Solara sat on the bed next to her, wrapping her arms around her. “I have missed you, little sister.”
Trista hugged Solara tight. “I have missed you too. And Noele and Mina and Elisa. Tell me, are you all well?”
Solara pulled away, her face flushed as scarlet as her hair and wings, the red flecks on her skin glowing.
Her eyes sparkled with the telltale sign of love. She nodded. “Aye. Very. I want to strangle you and thank you at the same time for what you have done for me.” Trista grinned. “I take it you and Roarke have worked things out?”
“Even better than we could have imagined. We are to be married, and despite how angry I am at what you have done, ‘tis all because of you.”
“I am glad it worked out then. I did what I thought was best, Solara. ‘Twas quite obvious how much you two loved each other. From the first time we stepped into Winterland castle for Noele’s wedding to Garick, sparks flew between you and Roarke. You were fated to be together. One does not turn a blind eye to fate.”
“Father tells me that Braedon has accepted you in my stead. I am sorry to hear you were forced to become betrothed to him in my stead.”
“He will not marry me now, so you need not worry I will be forced to wed him.” Solara’s penetrating gaze was unnerving and Trista looked down. But her sister tipped her chin upward with her finger. “Trista, have you fallen in love with Braedon?” She blinked twice to hold back the tears, but she could not. They fell down her cheeks and she nodded.
“Aye. I have fallen in love with him and have made a miserable mess of this entire situation.” She told Solara what she had done, what Braedon had gone through with his family and the wizards and what happened to Donny after the party.
Solara stood and fluttered to the window, opening it to let the day’s light inside. Trista glared at the warm sunshine that did not match her dark mood.
“‘Tis hardly your fault that the wizards decided to snatch Donny right after a party. One thing had nothing to do with another, when ‘twas your magic they were after. Party or not, they would have taken him anyway.”
“Makes no difference. Too much has happened between us to salvage our relationship now. I am certain he will rescind his commitment to marriage.”
Solara gasped. “He dare not do so. He would lose much by violating the pact between our people and his.”
“I do not think he cares. He prefers his isolation. I should not have interfered, though I am glad I did.
‘Twas worth any price to see you so happy and in love. You will make a beautiful queen, Solara.” Solara hurried to her bedside, once again enveloping her in her arms. “I am sorry that my happiness came at such a high cost to you, my sweet sister. I wish there was something I could do.”
“I am merely to pay the price for my own foolishness,” Trista whispered, hugging her sister.
“We will see,” Solara said. “We will see about that.”
“If you do not marry my sister, you are a complete and utter fool.” Braedon and Roarke looked up from the papers on Braedon’s desk and regarded Solara, who fluttered in, her brows knit in a tight frown.
Truly a mesmerizing creature with her long scarlet hair and flaming red flecks covering her skin, Braedon wondered if things would have been different if she had remained his betrothed. Though, truth told, he could not imagine holding any faerie in his arms besides Trista.
Besides, ‘twas quite clear from the look of utter rapture in Roarke’s eyes when Solara entered the room that the two of them were, indeed, destined to be together.
“Solara, what is wrong with you?” Roarke asked.
“He is what is wrong with me,” she said, pointing to Braedon. “He intends to rescind his marriage contract to Trista.”
Braedon leaned against the corner of the desk and crossed his arms. “I do?”
“You do?” Roarke asked, arching a brow. When Braedon shrugged, Roarke nodded. Did not take too much to figure out where this conversation had originated.
“Trista,” they both said in unison.
“Aye, Trista,” she admonished, glaring at Braedon. “She told me you planned to back out of your marriage.”
“I have no intention of doing so. I love your sister.”
“Well, I can tell you right now that the faeries will not tolerate…what?”
Braedon’s lips twitched as he fought back laughter. “I have every intention of marrying your sister, Solara. I am in love with her. As usual, she has gotten a ridiculous notion in her head that is entirely of her own making. I have said nothing to give her the impression I wish to alter the terms of our betrothal.”
“Oh.” Solara blinked, looked at Roarke then back at Braedon. “Very well, then. Now that I have sufficiently embarrassed myself, I will beg your leave and will take myself away and fling myself off the cliff to my death. Good day.”
Now he did laugh. Roarke grabbed Solara and pulled her against him. “Such drama, my love. Hardly necessary. If Braedon is going to marry into this madness, he might as well get used to it. Especially since he is marrying Trista, who is prone to flights of dramatic fancy, even more so than the rest of you.”
“I have no flights of dramatic fancy, thank you. I believe I will leave those kinds of flights in the hands of my more than capable, sister. My apologies, Braedon, for misjudging you. Clearly my sister needs a good talking to. Or a spanking.”
The thought of spanking her again brought back visuals of the night Donny was taken. But instead of painful memories, he only thought pleasurable ones. Ones of him and Trista by the lake in the forest, enjoying each other’s passions.
He intended to make many more memories like those, until the bad memories of his past were completely put to rest.
“I will speak to your sister this evening and put her fears to rest. She misunderstood my intention to wait to speak to her until she felt better.”
“Welcome to our family, Braedon,” Solara said, laying her forehead to his and grasping his hands in hers. “May the magic of all the faeries be upon you. Marrying Trista, I feel you will need all you can get.”
* * * * *
She would be leaving Braedon. There would be no happiness, no celebrations at Greenbriar as everyone thought.
The sooner she had her discussion with Braedon, the sooner she could move on with her life. Whatever that meant. What did it matter anyway? Without Braedon by her side, did it matter what happened to her?
“You are as nervous as a moth near flame, Trista.”
She whirled and found him standing in her doorway. Tall, imposing and so handsome she held her breath. His hair was brushed away from his face, still damp from his bath. His face clean shaven, his eyes such a startling blue she could never tire of looking at them.
She would miss them, but she would never forget their unique coloring. He would haunt her dreams for the rest of her days.
“Come to my chambers,” he commanded, standing out of her way and bidding her entrance. She entered his bedchambers and he directed her to the seating area near the hearth. Retracting her wings, she sat in the chaise and folded her hands in her lap, her heart pounding so loud she felt it would deafen her.
Hurry and say the words, she begged silently. She could not bear the waiting.
“I have business to discuss with you,” he started, walking back and forth behind the chaise.
She did not turn around to look at him, unable to bear looking at him, knowing if she did she would burst into tears. “Aye. I know you do.”
“So you know what I need to discuss with you.”
“Aye,” she said, hoping he would not detect the misery in her voice.
“Over the past few weeks I have come to several realizations about our betrothal. It is important that a man and a woman are…compatible. That they share the same likes and dislikes. That they share common goals. Obviously our beginning was a bit…unusual.”
“Yes.”
Please, Braedon. Do not prolong this. My heart hurts.
“Therefore, I have sent Roarke’s guards to fetch your family so that we may marry as soon as possible.”
“I understand. ‘Tis for the best.”
“I thought you would say that.”
His words penetrated the fog of her brain and she jerked around to look at him. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” He arched a brow and quirked a smile.
“You sent…to fetch…marry?”
“Yes. Soon. Very soon. I find myself too impatient to wait much longer, Trista. I must have you as my wife and my queen as soon as possible.”