Authors: Rosalie Redd
“You keep getting out, and I can’t risk your safety. As we’ve experienced, there can be deadly consequences.” He wanted to rant at her, tell her how much trouble she was, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Instead, he took a breath, but his words still came out harsh. “You don’t realize what kind of danger you’re in. I shouldn’t have brought you here to my chamber, but there’s no place else I can take you, unless you prefer the dungeon.”
He sat in his desk chair. The wood creaked from the many years it had endured his weight, as if the chair also shouldered his responsibilities. He placed his elbows on his thighs and leaned over, his head resting in the palms of his hands. His emotions were jumbled from the death of his comrades, the parting ceremony, Demir and his entourage, and his requirement to protect Melissa. He needed time to think, to get his control back.
A soft touch on his shoulder made him jump, causing every nerve to light up.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What can I do?”
He raised his head and looked into her eyes, more beautiful than most precious gemstones. “Talk to me, distract me.”
She scanned the room and focused on the canvas over the bed. “Tell me about the painting.”
The familiar artwork seemed different to him tonight. He saw the painting through her eyes, a picture of a happy couple playing with their young son. The mother’s smile was so heartwarming, so tender. As the father cradled his female in his arms, his gaze held so much pride.
A lump formed in his throat as he thought about his parents. “That is King Nicholai and Queen Leonna.”
“That’s you. Isn’t it?”
She squeezed his shoulder, and he relaxed under her touch.
“Yes. I was very young when my—when the
artist
created this picture. My father wanted to capture a happy moment with his family.”
“What happened to them?”
“They died in the great scourge, along with many others. The virus infected us all, killing so many. We lost over thirteen hundred lives. I know, because I mourned every last one.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I know the Panthera suffered a similar fate.”
Her eyes were moist with unshed tears. She cared so much for others. He wanted to bask in her warmth.
“Tell me more,” she urged.
Fear snaked its way into his gut. It gripped him as the circumstances of his parent’s death roared to life in his mind. He’d never shared this with anyone. Why did he feel an overwhelming urge to tell her? The knot in his stomach tightened. He rushed to his feet, almost knocking Melissa to the ground.
He grabbed her arm to steady her. “I’m sorry—”
“Are you ok?”
“Yes—no—aw
craya
, I don’t know.” He wiped his hand down his face. His inner Stiyaha beat against his will, breaking it down, breaking him down. His beast wanted freedom, to be let out of its emotional cage and to live as it once had. Clamping down on his own emotions and subjugating the beast, he fought himself for control.
“Please, tell me.”
She touched the back of his hand, causing a shiver to run up his arm. His pulse raced as he made his decision. He would bare his soul to her, his little kitten. Regardless of what happened, he would tell her everything.
“My mother caught the scourge. She must have contracted the disease from one of the sick while she helped Gaetan in the infirmary. My father often thought kindness would be the death of her, and I guess he was right.” He laughed, his solemn tone rough with pain. “I was young, barely a mid-youth and had returned to the Keep from my first battle.” As images of that horrible time filtered through his mind, he told her the story.
The smell of pine and fresh air followed Noeh and the warriors as the portal closed behind them, but the clean scent did nothing to squash the stench of blood and illness that permeated the Keep. Jadon held his arm at his side, the limb numb and useless from the sting of a Gossum’s tongue. He seemed pale, his brown eyes rimmed red, and he wobbled as he walked.
Jadon sneezed. Spittle flew from his nose and mouth
—
the first signs of the scourge.
“He’s infected.” A warrior with a bulbous nose pointed at Jadon. The male scurried away, fear evident in his widened eyes and hurried steps. The great scourge didn’t discriminate. Merchants and nobles alike succumbed to its vicious fever, puss-filled sores, and brutal cough.
“Let’s get you to the infirmary.” Noeh wrapped his arm around Jadon’s waist and flung his comrade’s arm over his shoulder.
Saar ran up to Noeh. His own cuts and bruises were evidence of the recent battle. “Let me take Jadon. Gaetan is looking for you.”
As Saar took the warrior, Noeh stared at his sick friend. This would be the last time he’d ever see him. A pang of regret hit him in the chest.
Gaetan hobbled across the Portal Navigation Center, his hurried steps slowed by his deformed leg. He peered around, searching, and when he found Noeh, he stilled. “Noeh, come quick, your mother has contracted the illness.”
Noeh stared at Gaetan’s face, reading much more than could ever be said. “She doesn’t have long, does she?”
Gaetan’s gaze darted to the stone floor, then returned. “No, not long. She’s been asking for you.”
“Where is she? Is my father with her?”
“Yes, they are in their bedchamber.”
Noeh turned around, but Gaetan caught him on the arm. “Wait, there’s something else you need to know. Your father isn’t long for this world, either.”
The bonding. Noeh’s beast roared. He would’ve changed into his beast to let off some steam if the circumstances weren’t so dire.
“Craya! Damn the bonding!” Noeh ripped his arm away from Gaetan, and ran down the corridor, his feet pounding on the hard stone floor.
As he reached his parent’s bedchamber, he stopped outside their door. His mother coughed. She sounded so frail, so pained.
He rested his arm and head against the hard wooden door. The familiar smell of oak and the coolness of the wood did nothing to ease the pain in his chest. As he breathed in deep, the cool air calmed him. He wanted to be under complete control to face what was on the other side.
He knocked.
“Enter,” his father said.
As he slipped into the room, the bitter smell of impending death greeted him.
His mother lay on her bed, the green and blue comforter tucked over her bosom. Her blond hair flowed around her shoulders. Its shine and softness contrasted with the red sores that marred her once beautiful face.
She coughed again. Spittle and blood ejected into the handkerchief his father held to her mouth. Seated in the chair next to his queen, his father seemed to have aged. His once strong and handsome face was creased and pale from worry.
“Noeh.” His mother reached out her hand as another round of coughs racked her body. When she could breathe again, she smiled, the light not quite reaching her eyes. “My son—”
Noeh clasped her fingers in his palm. “Rest, Mother, conserve your energy.”
“My son, I have something for you. Nicholai, please remove my necklace.”
A lump formed in Noeh’s throat, and he tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. With great care, his father unclasped the heavy necklace from around his mother’s neck. Made of gold, the queen’s necklace was inlaid with two precious jewels, a red sunstone and a green sunstone, cut to fit together to form a perfect circle.
As his father placed the necklace into Noeh’s open palm, he recited the ancient scripture. “Red for passion, green for temperance, may you have both in equal quantity.”
Queen Leonna peered at Noeh, the once vibrant blue of her eyes now pale and milky. “My son, give this to your future queen as a gift from me.”
“It’s beautiful, Mother. Any female would be blessed to receive this necklace.” He chose his words well, careful not to commit to anything. With a heavy heart, he placed the necklace into his pocket. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mother?”
She didn’t respond. Her face was still, unmoving, her eyes lifeless.
Noeh gasped.
“She’s gone.” His father closed his queen’s eyes and kissed her hand.
“She was the love of my life, as you know.” His father smiled with a faraway look in his eyes. A single tear escaped, running a path down the rough side of his nose.
Noeh’s vision blurred, and the world slowed. She was gone? She couldn’t be gone. No! Clenching his fists, he lifted his head and roared, the sound reverberating through the room. With moist eyes, he glanced at his father.
His father still held his mother’s hand when her fingers crumbled to dust. Letting out a roar of his own, King Nicholai launched himself from the chair and beat his chest with his fists. The sound of bone breaking brought Noeh out of his mental fog. He grabbed his father’s arms before he could do further damage to himself.
“She’s no longer in pain.” Noeh stared his father in the eyes.
The old king relaxed, his arms going limp in Noeh’s grip. Noeh let him go, his own body shaking.
“You’re a good son.” Tears welled in his father’s eyes. “You will be a great king.”
His father pulled him into an embrace. Noeh’s chest expanded. He cherished the infrequent, close contact with his father and treasured his father’s love and support.
King Nicholai placed his hands on Noeh’s arms. “I will join your mother soon, back on Lemuria. As her bonded mate, it is my duty to stay with her always, in life and in death. Do not be sad for me, my son. I have no desire to live without her. Someday, you’ll understand when you bond to your queen.”
“Is it worth it, Father?” He looked at the two
black bonding bands surrounding his father’s throat. “Our kingdom needs you to lead our kind in the war against the Gossum. How will we get along without you? How will I?”
“That is your responsibility now, my son. You will lead them well. You are ready.”
“No, I’m not. I’m still a mid-youth, barely of age.” Heat flushed up Noeh’s neck, and his ears burned.
“You have no choice. My time here is done, and you must take my place as king.” His father’s gaze swirled with love and compassion. “You will lead them, and they will follow you. You are my son, and you will be king.”
As his mother’s last bit of flesh turned to sand, King Nicholai slumped to the floor.
“No, Father!” Noeh dragged the old king to the chair. “Father, Father!” He tried to rouse him, but he was gone. Noeh kneeled next to the one male he’d always been able to count on.
“You were a great king, Father. I only hope to be as great as you.” He grasped his father’s hand and removed the sunstone ring. His fingers shook as he placed the king’s ring on his right middle finger.
“I accept this ring and will honor all those who have worn it before me.” The weight of his commitment wrapped around him like a ball and chain.
His father’s body crumbled to dust.
Screeeee. Leaning against the wall, Nicholai’s sword shrieked an unholy, miserable sound at the death of its partner.
“Another sword to place in the Hall of Warriors.” Noeh lowered his head and touched the hilt of his own blade in comfort. He took a long breath and stared at the piles of dust that used to be his parents.
His chest ached with loss. He shook his head and blinked back unshed tears. Anger, hot and torrid, raced through his veins, overwhelming him with its intensity.
“Father, the bonding is a curse. You couldn’t save her, and your connection to her cost you your life. Your selfishness left a child to rule a kingdom. You expect me to take a queen, but I refuse to follow the scriptures by tying myself to a female Stiyaha. I vow this to myself.”
The heaviest commitment he’d ever made in his young life brought him to his knees. He struggled to breathe as the promise wound its way throughout his body and into his soul. Every muscle and fiber within him took in his words. His inner beast screamed at his own betrayal.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Melissa’s heart ached for Noeh. She moved her hand up his arm, offering comfort as best she could. It was hard not to think about the firm muscles under his woven shirt as her fingers brushed over his bicep.
He still sat in his chair, one of the few pieces of furniture in his bedchamber. His head rested in his hands, and his fingers splayed across his face. The battle-worn warrior had opened his heart to her, exposed his inner-most secret, and his vulnerability touched her deeply.
“That must have been tough for you. To watch your parents die at such a young age.”
“It changed me, and not for the better, I’m afraid.”
His quiet laugh was self-deprecating, and she could sense his pain in the deep timbre of his voice. If she could take away his suffering, if only for a moment, she would.
Her heart skipped a beat. “What happens if you break your vow?”