Hels's Gauntlet [Forbidden Legacy 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

Built with their magic, the land surrounded her, nurturing her like a life suspended in the safety of the womb. Her hand smoothed across the gentle swell of her belly. Just a few weeks along and she was already showing. Of course, she showed because she wore tight skirts and fitted clothes. That would have to stop soon. Jacob and Helcyon were adamant that she keep the pregnancy a secret. Only the Wizards living in their home and one brownie knew the truth. A brownie Helcyon ferried to see her the morning after her announcement. A brownie that was due to visit again in just three days. The damp grass was warm against her feet, a total contrast to the cold swirling beyond the boundary. The gentle humidity lapped against her skin, dampening it with a hint of a sweat.

She missed the idea of the cold, the brisk bite of it against her face. The path toward the single grave stone in the garden was well-worn. She came down here every day. In the first weeks after Dalton’s death, she’d spent all day sitting down here. She spent so much time that Helcyon installed a marble bench for her to sit on.

“Good morning, Dalton.” She murmured the greeting, sliding onto the bench and leaning forward, hands clasped together. “I’m sorry it’s been a bit since I came to visit. It all seems to be going to hell, and I’m not entirely sure how to stop it.”

“Letting go of me would be a start.” Dalton’s dry voice crackled over her, and she met his wry expression with a small smile. “You can’t keep calling me back here to talk, Cassie.”

“Sure I can. Eulogies are for the living. They help us survive when grief becomes unbearable.” If someone had told her six months ago that she would be living with two men, in love with them, and talking to a ghost on a regular basis, she would have laughed at them. She would have told them they were insane. Yet here she sat, in a five-thousand-dollar Donna Karan suit, barefoot, on a bench in the middle of an exotic fortress high in the Sierra Nevada, pregnant by one of her lovers, and talking to the ghost of a Wizard who died protecting her.

“Of course you can. You’re an entitled princess, Your Highness. Of course you can pull me back whenever you want.” Dalton leaned back against the headstone and folded his arms. His translucent figure sported a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and rope sandals. He was the most un-Wizard-looking Wizard she’d ever met.

“I don’t even know why you come here when I come here. You started it.”

“No, you started it.” Dalton sighed. “Princess, look, I get it. I died and sprayed blood all over you and you feel guilty because I died and you didn’t. Survivor’s guilt sucks, but get over it already.”

“You know, you’d think if I conjured you up for my comfort, you’d say something more comforting.” Cassie studied her nails. She needed another manicure and maybe a pedi and quite possibly a haircut. She could care less about her appearance, but appearance was everything.

“I think you need to face your present and stop clinging to what went wrong. You couldn’t let go of Billy, and now you can’t let go of me. It’s easier to hang onto the past than face the present.”

“How do you know about Billy?” She cocked her head and studied the ghost. When he’d first appeared to her in the garden, it startled the hell out of her. It was less than a day after the battle in the Wizarding Council’s chambers. The confrontation turned into a hellish fire fight between Dark Fae and the Wizards. Helcyon blazed with power. He’d been everywhere, slicing, cutting, and slaying. Jacob and his Wizards gathered around her, creating a pocket of safety as hate and danger poured down upon them.

Dalton protected her on one side. Vanagan shielded her on the other. Dalton knew she could disrupt the portal and he could target it. Vanagan blocked all the distractions. They’d successfully shut down the portal, bringing an end to the attack, but not before a sword cut up through Dalton’s chest and ended his life.

“I’m dead. I know a lot.” Dalton’s paper-thin voice rasped over her, dry as the desert. “I also know you need to let me go.”

“If I knew how, don’t you think I would have already?” Impatience sparked through her. The last twelve weeks she’d come out here every chance she got. At first, it was just to try and put order to her thoughts, but, when Dalton answered her, it became more about not leaving him alone than helping herself.

The translucent Wizard folded his arms. “Have you told Jacob or the Elf?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She sighed, turning her gaze up to the sunrise. The more light that flooded their valley, the less distinct Dalton became. “I didn’t want to worry them.”

“Change is chaotic, Cassie. It’s chaotic, it’s bloody, and it’s painful. It’s a lot like bringing new life into the world. It hurts like hell, but after all the pain, blood, and discomfort, you have a new life beginning, a new present to embrace. But you have to be willing to let go of the pain and the agony of it.”

“You know, I didn’t like you that much before you died.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say to a dead person. But she’d barely known Dalton. He was loyal to Jacob, and the other Wizards mourned the loss of their brother, but they’d all moved on…fast. She didn’t understand that.

“I know, and you don’t understand it because you look at life through the narrow focus of humanity. You see life as fleeting, to be held onto with both hands and to fight for every breath. Most of them”—Dalton nodded toward the house—“are old enough to understand the difference. They’ve seen death. They know it’s a part of life. We all understood the risks we took when we stood with Jacob. We knew that any of us, hell all of us, could have died and may yet die.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. The weight in her belly seemed to expand like a stone. Finding out she was pregnant was at once terrifying and exhilarating. She didn’t know which of her lovers was the father, and neither seemed to care. Well, that wasn’t true. Jacob cared. She’d seen the flashes of worry in his eyes when they discussed the baby. He was terrified if it was his child, the child would be human.

“If life isn’t fleeting, then why is Jacob so worried?”

“I said it wasn’t fleeting, not that he was unfeeling. He’s raised human children, he watched them grow up, have families, grow old, and die. He watched his grandchildren and great-grandchildren do the same. He stopped looking after a while. We all do. We allow ourselves that distance.” Dalton pinched the bridge of his nose. If she didn’t know he was dead and if she couldn’t see straight through him, she would have laughed at his pained expression.

“Does it hurt you to stay here?” She ran her fingers through her hair, finger combing out the tangles of curls. The slow, methodical gesture soothed and helped her ignore the leaden exhaustion weighing down on her bones. She’d had little in the way of morning sickness, but fatigue seemed to cling to her every step. Especially after staying up all night on conference calls.

“I think it might be hurting you. But no, it doesn’t hurt me. Dead is dead.”

The philosophic answer didn’t surprise her. Dalton avoided answering any questions about death, being a ghost, or even why he was there other than to chide her that she was holding him there.

“Do you know how I can let you go?” As with every other time she’d asked him the question, Dalton failed to answer and vanished with the sun’s rays pouring over the headstone. “That’s cheating, you know…that fade out thing.”

Cassie rubbed her hand over her belly. Maybe it was time to talk to Jacob and Helcyon about him. But both of her men had been so busy, so much fallout from the Fae reveal. Jacob’s new position with the Council was a tenuous one, and Helcyon’s trips away seemed to be increasing in frequency. She didn’t want to worry them more than she had to.

“Cassie,” Paul’s voice called from the open door of the house. “Time to eat.”

Her stomach growled at the summons, and she rose with one last look at the headstone. She’d come back tonight and find out what she needed to do to let him go and talk to Leitha to figure it out. If she could release Dalton without worrying the men, it would be better. Beyond the barrier, the snow continued to fall.

Helcyon folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. The throne room hummed with activity, supplicants arriving in droves to petition the Danae for permission to travel. Despite the chaos and hate crimes, so many ached to relocate. The thrill of living on the other side, access to the rich resources, sunshine, and most of all, to the people proved alluring to even the most reclusive of the Elves, Brownies, Goblins, and much to his surprise, a Troll. Even the current wave of hate and fear sweeping through the conservative communities could feed Fae power.

The Danae, however, appeared less than giving today. Despite the partnered pair kneeling on the ground, her cool gaze hunted amongst those seeking her permission. Around her, the guard shifted—trained to stand for hours, days if necessary, presenting a united front that never wavered—yet they seemed restless today. But the press of bodies, the chatter of too many voices, the pounding of so many hearts was enough to make even the most jaded warrior uneasy.

“Silence,” the Danae spoke, interrupting the mated couple’s presentation. The male Elf’s brows drew together in disapproval, but his wife hung onto his arm, quelling whatever unwise response he may have retaliated with. The Danae stood, and the silence rippled across the supplicants. As one, they dropped to a knee before their Queen. Those lining the wall, like Helcyon and the members of her personal court, did not drop to a knee, but they did lower their gazes.

The Danae strode down the steps, leaving her guard to close rank around her as she weaved through the room. Her silken dress whispered in hushed accompaniment as she prowled. Helcyon studied the tiled floor, awareness of the Danae’s halt in the middle of the room prickling along his skin. He knew the moment her gaze alighted on him.

“She isn’t here.” Her voice carried through the marbled hall as though she stood right next to him.

“No, Danae. She works tirelessly on your behalf, but must rest as humans need to do.” He modulated his tone, careful to maintain neutrality in the words that might otherwise be interpreted as insult. Cassandra’s identity was no longer safe in the Court. Too many rumors swirled about her bloodlines.

“Was my command to present her unclear, Lord Helcyon?” The Queen’s diminutive feet appeared in his line of vision. Unsurprisingly, her toes were bare of adornment beneath her silken dress. She disliked all shoes. Unlike her great-great-granddaughter who seemed to worship the things. He swallowed the twitch of amused indulgence at Cassandra’s need for so many shoes. In the short weeks since she announced her pregnancy, she ordered dozens of different pairs until he and Jacob had been forced to add a new storage space so she could “organize” them properly. Neither he nor the Wizard minded the mundane activity, particularly as it was the first time she truly smiled since the death of the Wizard Dalton.

“No, Your Majesty. Your orders were clear. As I noted upon my arrival, the Lady Cassandra continues with the duties you tasked to her, smoothing our way back into the world. Negotiations remain in a delicate stage, too delicate for her to abandon at a whim.”

A collective inhale punctured the silence. Few in the throne room would ever imagine speaking thusly to the Danae, but Helcyon had known her for generations. He’d served her father. He’d served her. In essence, he knew where all of her bodies had been buried.

He buried more than a few himself.

Cassandra would not come Underhill again. Not until her pregnancy was safely past, her child delivered, and the question of the child’s nature was answered.

Helcyon would die first.

“Leave us.” The Danae’s command barely left her lips when a rush of feet echoed through the chamber. The great hall’s many occupants couldn’t leave quickly enough. Those of her Court who lined the walls to either side of him slipped away until Helcyon stood alone with the Danae and two of her guard.

“Go.” The Danae demanded of the warriors standing to her right and left.

They hesitated long enough that the Queen gave an impatient stamp of her foot, and their reluctance to leave the Danae alone in his presence dragged in every step they made.

“They are unhappy to leave you with one they no longer trust, Your Majesty.” Helcyon took care with his tone, reflexively reverting to true neutral. Her guard was right to be circumspect where he was concerned. His loyalties were not the Danae’s to command any longer, not even with the blood promise hanging over his head.

Unless that baby is yours…

He pushed the thought back into the quiet vault of his mind, silencing the doubt. He would show the Queen no fear and offer her no weapon to wield against his family.

“You vex me, my lord. You vex me greatly.” So the Danae was done with dainty politics.

He lifted his gaze, emboldened by her choice of battlegrounds, and met her rainbow colored eyes unflinchingly. “I would apologize, Your Majesty. But I am afraid that would be an insult to us both.”

“Helcyon, you could have been my lover, you could have shared my throne, you may yet take it if your seed quickens in my Cassandra’s womb. You could lead them all, so why do you risk my ire by openly defying me in my court?”

“Would you prefer the truth or a salve for your ego?” The dare was a gamble. A dangerous game of chance when played against the Queen’s mercurial moods. Moods that grew darker with each new whisper of rebellion on the wind.