Rising Embers

Chapter 2

I was a second away from pivoting away from this very strange and uncomfortable encounter when the man spoke again. “You were with him,” a slow smile accompanied his words. Cautious but confident.

We were so careful. Jacques and I were never risky during our meetings. Even our rendezvous tonight was planned with utmost care by him. There were only a couple of times when we met at the castle grounds and those times called for certain demands which justified them. A year ago, Jacque’s mother had been attacked during a sanctioned visit to another kingdom. He stayed in Fae Harrow because he wanted to take advantage of the absence of his parents and spend time with me. The guilt he felt afterwards resulted in him distancing himself from me for weeks, the kind of tortue he later told me I hadn’t been the only one suffered through.

Then, three nights ago, I had been with him and we were the farthest we were from the castle grounds. Jacques braved the sewers from where an abandoned and forgotten passage in his room led, and made his way at the back of the stables the most distant to the castle. It was a very dark night and we both wore heavy cloaks as disguises. With his fae hearing and elevated senses, Jacques had been absolutely confident that we were alone. Or were we?

The palace held a dinner party then as a prelude to the grand ball next weekend. Jacques invited me to be his companion but there was no way in hell it would ever be appropriate to do so. I wasn’t even allowed to stand on the same ground he was on, let alone breathe the same air he did.

Alright, the last part was an exaggeration but no one could fault anyone for trying to be wary of the fae.

It was just my own tough luck that I fell in love with one.

My own miserable, tragic destiny that the one my heart longed for and wanted more than anything, anyone in the world, was the only male I could never have. Not in this lifetime.

A reminder the stranger voiced out when he said, “Fraternizing with the fae is forbidden, human. You knew better than to talk to one let alone touch one.” He spat the word and for the first time since I welcomed Jacques’s touches, I felt dirty. Like I didn’t deserve to be held and treated preciously like he did when I was in his arms.

“Worst of all,” the man continued, leaning closer, “the prince.”

He raised an arm, letting go of the bag he was holding with a heavy thud, Mistress Tatiana’s precious gem hitting the wooden floorboards of his lodging. I braced myself for the attack and bared my teeth with a crouch. I had never been in any fights but the sudden misery I was trying to ignore whenever it threatened to wash over me at the thought of Jacques and the hindrances between us made me feral. Violent, even. I thought I was strong enough to accept what fate had been granted upon us, but the tightening of my chest proved otherwise.

My fingers curled inwards, ready to do some damage with scratches and even chancing a punch on any exposed part of the man who once again was trying to handle me, but before his hand even came closer too an inch from me, everything suddenly seemed to freeze—the wind, the birds and critters living their short inconspicuous little lives in the background… the man’s movements. His arm was suspended in air as his whole body seized and I saw the exact moment panic seeped into his eyes. Fear came flooding in not a moment longer when his pupils, the only parts of him that were able to move, narrowed at something above my head.

Chills racked my back as I felt the approach from behind me.

I should have known.

My nails dug into my palms to stop the shaking.

He came.

“You alright, Firebird?” The murmur might have been calm if I didn’t know the familiar tremor that betrayed restrained anger. Warmth began to emanate in my spine, the mere proximity already making the tension ease from my shoulders.

His lips almost touching the top of my hair, this was the closest we’d ever been physically out in the public where anyone could see, notie—realize who he was.

And who I… wasn’t—being this close to comfort with him.

With a bare nod, I affirmed my safety, but of course, Jacques being Jacques, it couldn’t have been enough. “Words, darling. I need words.”

He always did.

“I am unharmed, Rain.” I was proud of how my voice matched the steadiness of my reply and, being so attuned to his presence and his every little tells, I could tell that Jacques eased up a bit. Reassured and satisfied that I was indeed safe. Not that I ever needed his help in the first place, I was handling myself well if not immensely. I had my claws ready to maim and defend, my fighting stance braced and secured.

Jacques, Rain, moved to band his arm around my waist, his other outstretched with his fingers curved in locked in place, shaking a fraction. His hot breath came to my ear as he leaned in, whispering softly, “I am not going to kill him, Fire.”

A whisper of a kiss.

I shivered, but not out of fear.

“Not yet,” he continued and I could hear the laughter in his voice, but before I could reprimand him for clarification, he straightened back up and declared, “You did not see this woman, you did not see me. You will not remember either of us nor what transpired here in this moment, what was shown, what was felt, what was said. Your delivery was fulfilled by a forgettable young man and you encountered no problems with it nor the product you acquired. You will not have any memory of this display of power nor this one-way conversation.”