Evermine: Daughters of Askara, Book 2 Read online

  Freedom and peace were too tenuous for one enraged Evanti to snap the balance.

  “Emma,” he said. My shoulders hunched, expecting his condemnation. “Thank you.”

  Tension bled from me when the corner of his mouth upturned. “You’re welcome.”

  The sick taste in my mouth kept me from wanting to talk, but a smile from him and I would spill my every secret thought, if I had any left he didn’t know.

  I settled for staring at him like the infatuated youth his presence always reduced me to. When he stared back, I didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but I was glad he did.

  “Whatever Emma has must be catching.” Dillon spoke up from his quiet corner. “I’m feeling rather green all of a sudden.” He grabbed for the door. “I think I’ll wait out in the hall.”

  “It could be morning before Aaron returns.” My chest tightened. “Where will you stay?”

  His gaze flickered over me, toward my bed. “With you, if you’ll have us.”

  I heard wood snap and found the edge of my desk broken in my hand. “Of course I will.”

  Though I would make sure he took the room farthest from mine, the one with a heavy bolted lock I couldn’t pick. I closed my eyes, swore I had more self-control than this. Forced out thoughts of how easily I could break down the door to reach him if I wanted.

  Only Harper inspired this all-consuming madness in me. And it was madness. He wouldn’t face his past, and he forgave mine, because he ignored it. No matter how this played out, we had no future. I would help him. He would leave. It wasn’t perfect, but life seldom was.

  Chapter Seven

  Harper walked a circuit of the guest bedroom. Night sounds poured through the open window, carried on an arid breeze. He paused when the curtains rustled and the soap-clean scent of Emma teased him to lift the fabric, inhale her fragrance and wish for things best forgotten.

  Dillon lay on a cot, staring at the ceiling. “You’ll wear tracks in the floor.”

  “I have a lot on my mind.” He stepped away from temptation.

  “I don’t supposed this ‘a lot’ has blonde curls and a temper?” He sat upright. “She could have at least been born with red hair.” He scowled. “A warning label would be appreciated.”

  “She wasn’t feeling well.” The excuse came easy. It was one he’d made often after finding out about Emma’s caffeine addiction the hard way. Seeing her doubled over and gagging on her bedroom floor brought his first night in the earthen colony rushing back in perfect detail.

  His bittersweet homecoming had served as a wakeup call when he snuck from Clayton and Maddie’s guestroom to find Emma and made a chilling discovery. He’d found her, all right, crawling on her hands and knees on the floor of her diner. Shattered coffeepots had driven glass into her palms. Mud-brown sludge had smeared her mouth, her chin. Her eyes had gone glassy.

  He’d seen enough courtesans crazed with their drug of choice not to recognize her symptoms. She’d purged her stomach across his lap, then curled up against his chest and slept as if she hadn’t closed her eyes in all the time he’d been gone. Other memories drifted into his conscience, but he choked them, stuffed them back into the hellish box where they belonged.

  On good days, he nursed a five-year gap in his memory. He craved the fuzzy edges of his recollection. It was how he kept his anger with Emma in check. The urge to throttle her for being so reckless simmered below his skin. He could have lost her. Regret churned. He’d lost her anyway.

  “I’m heading out.” This oasis Emma had carved out of the city’s heart boasted a small garden. It wasn’t much, but even two extra steps in either direction would help ground him.

  “Okay.” Dillon stood. “Let’s go.”

  Harper’s skull ached, shoulders burning where his wings were hidden. “I’d rather go alone.”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I’ll be in the garden.” He shrugged. “I need to stretch my wings for a while.”

  “You get a half hour. After that, I’m coming for you.” Dillon folded his arms across his chest. “You’re a target in this city. Remember it’s not just the mine and the colony at risk. It’s you too. You control distribution. Nobles won’t like that. Raiders already don’t like it.”

  He was right. “I know.” Harper opened the door, then slid through it, careful not to wake boarders in the adjoining rooms. He’d counted seven males and one female at dinner. Emma had a full house and expected a mated pair’s return. He spotted her bedroom turned office and picked up his pace. Too late, her fresh scent teased his nose. Four long strides later, he reached the back door, shoved through it and inhaled deeply of the night. Spice from the nearby markets stung his nose. The familiar smell and sounds of horses carried. Over everything, he all but tasted Emma.

  “Definitely Hell.” He shivered as his glamour dropped. His wings flexed, stretching kinks from long-denied freedom. Rolling his neck, muscles loosed and bones popped.

  “I don’t know.” Emma’s laughter carried on the breeze. “I kind of like it here.”

  He spun around and found her sitting on a low chair beside the door with bone needles in hand, a basket of wool at her ankle, knitting. The better part of a throw covered her legs as she worked at the topmost corner. Tightness gripped his skin, stretching his wings out of shape.

  “Have a seat.” She gestured toward the seat against the opposite wall with her chin.

  “No.” He tried to turn away, but couldn’t. “I came out for a walk.”

  She glanced at her hands. “Suit yourself.” Her needles resumed clacking.

  She paused to shove hair behind her shoulder. It sprang back, curling under her breastbone. Lines scrunched between her eyes, and her head tilted back and forth as she worked.

  “You knit.” Fascination drew him closer. Her calm rhythm soothed his frayed nerves.

  “I picked up the habit in the colony.” She shrugged. “It keeps my hands and my head occupied. I’ve done it off and on, made things for Maddie. Now it kind of fills the void, I guess.”

  “What you said up there…” he cleared his throat, “…you meant it?”

  Her hands slowed. “I kicked the caffeine habit, quit cold turkey once I left Earth.”

  “That’s good.” He swallowed sweet relief.

  “And in case you’re wondering, I haven’t picked up any new ones.” She pushed a strand of yarn aside. “Well, except this, and it doesn’t count. This is more of a rededication.”

  “Fair enough.” He turned away, shook out his wings, stretching until they stung. Glamour was an illusion, but it was a tangible illusion. When he altered his appearance, tucked his wings out of sight, they were plastered to his spine, trapped in a magical cocoon that itched and burned.

  Emma gasped. “What happened?” Seconds later, hot hands smoothed down his back.

  Every inch of him tingled at her touch. Color drenched his wings, turning their dusky carmine to vibrant crimson. No hiding his arousal in his natural form. He shouldn’t have dropped his glamour. He still didn’t know what she was fussing about— “Damn it.” She poked a finger below his wing joint and pain crashed over him in agonizing waves. “Could you not do that?”

  She caught his arm, wheeling him around to face her as she snarled, “Has anyone checked your back?” Her fingers tightened. “Were you in that mine when it exploded?”

  “No, I was outside.” His back had been burned, hadn’t it? The pain hadn’t registered until she mentioned it. His wounds weren’t life-threatening, so he blocked it like everything else. The men in the mines mattered. The lone survivor of the caravan required their healer. He didn’t.

  “Males.” She didn’t ask permission, just shoved him onto her lounge face-first. Expert hands spread his wings one at a time as delicate fingers inspected every leathered inch. He pushed up when her hands deserted him, but she shoved him down as if he were a child. He’d forgotten how strong she was. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he surren
dered to her whims.

  The same gentle hands returned, stroking every inch of his back, working over every muscle, pausing to pick debris from his cuts. “You know you’ll get infected if you let something like this go untreated.” She jabbed a nail deep in his shoulder blade, and he grunted. “Those mines are a case of wing rot waiting to happen. Don’t you have a healer?”

  “We have two in training,” he defended, “but they were needed elsewhere.”

  “Good grief. They were needed here.” She stabbed his hip for emphasis. “Don’t move.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” The lounge smelled of Emma. He buried his face in the pillow, and a stray hair tickled his nose. Sleep weighted his limbs, and his eyes closed for a moment.

  “This is going to burn.” A second later, she slathered icy ointment across his back.

  He shivered. Let it burn. This was one pain too delicious to block. Emma’s hands on him, nursing him like she had a thousand times when his protection of Maddie earned him lashes from her father’s whip. Archer had been so consumed with desire for Maddie, he assumed Harper shared the same twisted lust and punished him for her affection. He hadn’t suspected Harper craved only one female, or that Archer’s halfling daughter was the one true light in Harper’s life.

  His eyes closed again, and this time he left them shut. If someone had told him he would long for the days of their enslavement, he would have called that person a fool.

  Yet here he lay, wishing for a simpler time when his body was a tool to be used, his thoughts dictated by cruel circumstance, but his heart was free. And it had belonged to Emma.

  Five years made no difference to him. This year apart made even less. Ten or a hundred more wouldn’t change the sick ache in his bones craving her long-ago touch. He couldn’t love her openly then, either. But she knew she was his. Just as he knew he would always be hers.

  Harper groaned beneath my fingers. I spent more time inspecting his cuts than I had checking the fine print on Isabeau’s earlier contract annulment. Mint ointment stung my fingers, cold against the heat of his skin. His muscles were fuller than I remembered. The last time I’d seen him, he was all gristle and bone, half starved and should have been half crazed to match.

  I stopped making slow circles across his shoulders. His body exuded vitality. Watching the steady rise and fall of his back, I distracted myself from the crimson skin twitching invitation to either side of him. Unwilling to sever contact just yet, I smeared more goo on his spine and worked my way upwards. Thick ridges bumped under my palm, whip marks I could name and date. Father had lashed them into Harper’s once-supple skin until his scars begot scars.

  I’d wanted to flay my father, spit and roast him. Leave his eyes and tender organs for the sharp-beaked birds. The things he’d done to Maddie…to Harper. Father deserved to live through the sensation of being eaten alive by winged beasts, squawked over like the delicacy he would have been. Instead, Harper ended his life with one downward thrust. Skull met tile and crumpled.

  I was glad, in a way, because his reckless chivalry saved me from killing my only parent.

  Every time I saw Maddie twitch flightless nubs left where Father plucked her infant wings at birth, I tasted unquenchable bloodlust. Her father had been Eliya’s prized sthudai, and she’d been born with her Evanti father’s wings. Archer had crippled my little sister in a jealous rage, and if I’d had a few more years on me, I would have killed him then, sparing us his wrath.

  “It’s time for him to come inside.” Dillon’s voice dragged me from my thoughts.

  “He’s asleep.” I had the insane urge to offer a compromise, sit outside until dawn and watch him rest. “His back will require attention for the next day or so. Make sure he gets it.” Unsettled by the way he watched me, I asked, “Were you there?”

  He recoiled. “Yes, and I’ve already been seen by the healers.”

  “It figures he would see to everyone else first.” I grabbed a rag and cleaned my fingers. “You’ve got to take better care of him than this. He can’t lead your colony from a sickbed.”

  “No offense, Emma.” His tone dipped low. “But you have no right to tell me—or him—how to take care of business. You walked out, remember?” He snorted. “I sure as hell do.”

  My mouth opened, but no defense sprung to mind. “I did the best thing for us both.”

  “You did what was easiest for you.” Dillon stepped into moonlight, his bicolored eyes glinting. “If you say you did it for his sake, you’re letting yourself off easy.”

  I glanced at Harper, who was still sleeping. “He won’t face his past. I lived through that once with Maddie. Pain festers. It chews you up, makes you numb.” My glamour crackled, failing against my anger. “Well guess what? I don’t have it in me to do it a second time. I think I deserve to have a life outside of watching the people I love most try to suffocate themselves with denial.”

  “You’re a coward.”

  “No, I’m not.” For once, I had the right of it. At least I had tried to cope, to heal myself. “I’ve kicked my addiction and taken responsibility for myself. It’s time he does the same.”

  Dillon landed one more hit, far below the belt. “He still waits for you.”

  Remnants of my heart shattered, sinking jagged edges beneath my rib cage. “He doesn’t have to. I didn’t ask him to.” But I melted inside to know he did. I did too. Did he realize that? “I’m sorry he’s hurting, but I’m not sorry I left him before he left me.” I clued him in on what I had accepted. “Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes people are better apart than together.”

  “And sometimes people should lower their voices if they don’t want to be overheard.” Harper teased my peripheral vision. He scrubbed a hand across his face, rolling onto his side.

  Blood drained from my limbs in a cold rush. Dillon’s smug satisfaction made my fingernails stretch to razor tips. He’d set me up, led me by the nose right where he wanted to take me. Anger prickled my skin, but rage boiled away the chill. He had no right to play with me.

  “I think I’ve gotten enough air.” Harper stood, rubbing the base of his neck.

  He turned, but I didn’t let him go far. “You always block what you don’t want to hear.”

  His shoulders tensed, wings twitching. “You’re wrong, Emma. I’ve heard every word you’ve said to me.” His dark skin shimmered with glamour. “I particularly remember goodbye.”

  “You would have left me, and you know it.” The unexpected words ripped from my soul. Why had I opened my mouth? I knew accusation would tumble out. “You can’t even look at me when you deny it.” It shocked me to hear the words aloud. I thought I’d made peace with our past, but I guess he wasn’t the only one stuck to the comfortable road. I lied well, even to myself.

  “This isn’t the time or the place,” he said softly.

  “It never is,” I replied just as soft.

  Wood slapped hard to our right, snapping our conversational stalemate.

  “Lady, I’ve a message for you.” Aaron stumbled through the garden’s gate. His hair swirled in spiked peaks, his cheeks burnt raw from wind. His eyes widened as Harper’s glamour flickered into place. Dillon shouldered past me, standing between him and my courier.

  For a shocked moment I noticed he extended his same protection to me. Glowering at Dillon’s back, I couldn’t forgive what he’d done. This visit could have been a pleasant social call between old friends. Instead, he fed me a line and hooked me into behavioral patterns I hated.

  “It’s all right.” I waved the youth closer. “They’re friends of mine.”

  Aaron’s wary eyes narrowed. “Would you prefer I deliver the message in private?”

  “No.” Dillon rested a hand at his hip, tapping a knife’s hilt. “She’ll hear it here, now.”

  “Lady?” Aaron’s voice wavered.

  “It’s okay.” I glared at Dillon, tempted to slap him. “We’re all friends here.”

  The boy gave a curt nod. “You requested a
letter be given to Queen Nesvia, but she will accept no visitors or messages during summer court.” He lowered his gaze. “Rideal is acting as her proxy, and given the urgent nature of your message, I—I surrendered your letter to him.”

  The letter’s contents skipped through my mind. Nothing suspect. Unease slid through my limbs that the thought even occurred to me. Rideal was her consort, my brother in a distant way, though I knew little of him. A harmless request for an audience was just that—harmless.

  Harper’s growl curled my insides. “She can’t expect us to wait three months and hope we aren’t picked off by raiders by then.” He spat a foul curse in Demonish. “She will hear us.”

  “Just let me think.” I touched his shoulder, holding him back from spraying spittle on my messenger. “She’s never refused me an audience, or closed her court.” I rubbed at my temple.

  “She didn’t mention the possibility to you?” Doubt laced his voice.

  “No,” I growled right back. “She wasn’t expecting me, either. She knows how I feel about Rihos. She knew I wouldn’t go to see her there. She had no reason to tell me of her plans.”

  “Lady?” Aaron’s uncertainty caught my attention. I turned. He offered me a silver foil envelope. An elaborate “B” looped in the wax sealing its flap closed.

  “Who gave you this?” I already knew. Deep down, I had no doubt.

  “Lord Roland Bernhard. He overheard my exchange with his brother. Once Lord Rideal Bernhard dismissed me, the elder Lord Bernhard brought me to his tent and asked I wait while he penned this message. He said bring it direct to you, lady.” His face scrunched up as if struggling to remember some small detail. “He also mentioned sending regards from a Lord Baselios?”

  Flames licked along my cheekbones as I ripped the flap and extracted Roland’s letter.

  “Roland Bernhard?” Harper pushed Dillon aside, crowding me. “You’ve met him?”

  “Yes, last night.” I skimmed the letter. “Nesvia sent a summons by him.”