Aequus Page 7

  “Oh, hell no. Get your hands off my girl,” Zander says from the doorway before stepping in. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” he adds, not the least bit apologetically.

  Tristan pulls away from me, dropping one last kiss on my forehead before turning to his brother. “Yeah, you are.”

  “Good,” Zander announces, and plops onto the bed. “If I don’t get to go to second base with her, neither should you.”

  “You’ve been to first base with her?” Tristan snaps.

  “No,” I squeal, and walk over to the bed. Sitting on it, I’m careful to keep at least a foot of space between Zander and me. “By the grace, Zander, would you stop provoking him?” I scold, and blink my eyes quickly—a nervous twitch.

  My cheeks flushed, I meet Zander’s amused eyes and for the briefest of seconds, I feel a little guilty at being caught kissing his brother, even if our courtship is for show.

  “Are you okay? Zander asks. “Are you going to cry?”

  “She’s fine,” Tristan answers for me. His teeth clench as he narrows his gaze on Zander. “Cry? Why would she—”

  I intercede. “I’m sorry to break the news to you, but no.”

  Zander drops on his back to the mattress dramatically as he sprawls himself out on the bed. “Damn.”

  “You want her to cry?” Tristan asks, confused. “What the hell kind of courtship is this?”

  “It’s nothing,” I brush off.

  “Someone better fill me in!” Tristan demands.

  “No,” Zander and I both answer at the same time.

  Tristan steps closer, crossing his arms. “Then how about one of you explain the discussion I overheard in my mother’s chambers. Why do you feel like I need protection? What were the two of you searching for? And why the hell are you pretending to be one another’s escorts? The truth.”

  I clear my throat and glance down at my hands. My fingers find my bracelet and run over the emeralds.

  Tristan makes me nervous. Just being around him is like jumping into a dark abyss—it’s terrifying, yet at the same time, I crave it.

  “As I said before, we’re pretending to court because you banished me from the realm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

  He smiles. “My pleasure.”

  “I figured the only way back in was diplomatic,” I admit.

  “This I know already,” Tristan affirms. “What I want to know is why you agreed.” His focus turns to Zander.

  “I, ah,” Zander begins, “had this really heartless, cruel answer prepared when she begged me. Then I looked at her, and couldn’t do it. I can’t explain it—why I agreed. Maybe it’s her hair. She has really nice hair. It smells flowery.”

  Tristan releases a frustrated exhale with a curse as his body tenses. “Zander, I’ve stopped smoking, which means I have no patience for crazy. The truth, before I start up again.”

  His brother doesn’t move, but he clenches his jaw and the muscle twitches as if he’s grinding his teeth together.

  “I came across some . . . information a few weeks ago.”

  “What kind?” Tristan prods.

  “The kind that points to treason,” he replies cryptically.

  Silence falls around us. I remain quiet, afraid to speak.

  This moment is tense and the weight of it is palpable as Zander’s words hang heavily in the air surrounding us.

  Tristan’s eyes meet mine, layered with both pain and beauty as the raw reality of the situation hits him full force.

  “You both were in my mother’s chambers, seeking evidence against her and Oren. Are you accusing the queen of something?” he asks with a sad, knowing smile.

  The look he’s giving me is too much, and I have to drop my gaze for a moment before lifting again to his hurt one.

  At our silence he dips his chin, understanding. He licks his lips, addressing Zander only, but keeping his eyes on mine the entire time. “Did you find what you were seeking?”

  “Nothing,” Zander responds.

  “Have any witnesses come forward?”

  “Not yet.”

  “This is a serious accusation. Do you think the word of a servant, or a piece of paper with my insignia will matter?”

  “Perhaps, if the right people believe,” Zander replies.

  “This is what we were trying to protect you from. Given the delicate situation, we didn’t want to bring our theories to you without concrete evidence. Your brother agreed to court me if I promised to help him obtain some,” I whisper.

  “I believe you. Oren is pushing too hard, which is odd.”

  “Agreed.” Zander matches Tristan’s regal tone.

  “That said, we protect our family. Spies and treachery are constants in our world and we must be careful which ones to explore, and with whom, if we are to succeed in securing accurate and truthful information to be used.”

  Zander sits up. “Understood.”

  “Reach out to Laven. Do so quietly, and seek evidence that way rather than pulling Serena into this and running around the castle looking for substantiation that won’t turn up. And for fuck’s sake, Zan, stop bribing the staff. Idle gossip is not the way to accuse a queen and an emperor of treason. Facts and testimony are,” he states authoritatively.

  “Who is Laven?” I interrupt.

  “An ancient woodland sprite. He lives among the weeping willow trees, and he’s well connected within interdimensional planes as an informant,” Tristan explains.

  “What about the paper with your emblem on it?” I ask.

  Tristan reaches out and cups my face with both of his hands, then leans in and kisses my forehead before sighing.

  “I have to tell you something. Hear me out fully.”

  “Okay.” My voice shakes partly because the haunted look on his face is unnerving and partly because he’s touching me.

  “Should I leave?” Zander asks quietly.

  “No. This affects us and the realm’s safety and security.”

  Zander slides off the bed and stands next to Tristan.

  “War? What the hell is going on, Tristan?”

  Tristan slides his hands into his front pockets. “It’s a long, convoluted story. One that I won’t go into details on right now. The short of it is,” he looks directly at me. “There will be no vows exchanged between Freya and me, and no alliance between the woodland and water realms.”

  My heart stops.

  My breath hitches.

  The only movement on my body is coming from my hands, which are shaking uncontrollably.

  An erratic pounding grows loud in my chest, echoing in my ears as I stare into his waiting gaze.

  “Say something,” he demands of me.

  I can’t. My throat is dry and I can’t breathe.

  “Serena,” he prods, as my world tilts.

  “Is this real?” I croak out.

  Tristan squats in front of me, brushing a strand of hair off my face before covering my hands with his to stop their quivering. “I swear to you on my honor it is.”

  “I d-don’t u-understand,” I push out.

  “The Sun of Vergina prophecy has been fulfilled.”

  “What?”

  “There is a symbol, behind your ear. I first noticed it at the Academy, when we were in Chancellor Davidson’s office, the day the Diablo Fairies attacked. Today, when I overheard your conversation with Zander, he confirmed that what I saw is in fact my insignia,” he speaks in a quiet tone. “You bear my mark on your skin, raindrop.”

  I remain silent.

  “When I was on trial for killing my mother’s guard, Gage visited me after finding out I was his son. I sat in the damp, smelly cell, while he wordlessly smoked and stared at me through the bars. When his—,” he searches for the right word for Gage’s lover, “Nassa came to check on him, her sorceress gifts sensed my insignia was charmed. I gave it to her to check out. She discovered that it was spelled by Helios, the god of the sun. The gods and goddesses blessed the emblem, enabling me to choose my fate. To mark the one my h
eart wants.”

  The air in the room shifts as I watch his lips move.

  “If you remember, I mentioned that at your uncle’s coronation, I touched Abby’s stomach. I felt your emotions and read your aura. But that’s all I can do as an empath.”

  I frown. “I don’t understand. You said that you had a vision of me. That you thought to yourself how lucky someone would be to get to love me?”

  He nods. “You showed me the visions. You accepted me. I didn’t just bond with you that day, your heart chose mine. You chose me. We marked one another. Of our own free will. It’s why you were born with my insignia,” he rasps.

  “I chose you?” I repeat softly.

  Tristan releases my hand and snaps off two of the leather bands on his wrist. “And shortly after our link that day, this appeared on me.”

  He shows me a small black dragon tattoo on his skin.

  My dragon—my clan’s crest.

  “If this doesn’t get you to cry, I’m totally screwed.” Zander’s voice sounds far away, as if we’re all in a tunnel.

  “That’s—” I begin, as my fingers caress the dragon.

  “Your mark,” he finishes.

  My chest tightens, and sudden possessiveness fills my veins. “She can’t have you because you’re mine,” I blurt out.

  Tristan cups my face and smiles. “I’m yours.”

  “And the decree?”

  “The gods will not allow me to marry another, because I’ve already given my soul and heart over to you. Our choice was blessed by the deities. The Vergina Sun is our cessation.”

  My hands wrap around his neck, pulling him to me.

  Leaning down, he nuzzles my ear while whispering in it, “I choose you. I choose to fight for us. You are my fate.”

  His cheek brushes mine and my skin ignites. His lips trail featherlight kisses over my jawline, leaving me breathless. When his lips meet mine, it’s soft and sweet. Just this small tease elicits small shivers of desire within me.

  A deep throat clears. “Still here,” Zander interrupts. “And by the way, you are still kissing my girl.”

  Tristan helps me stand and wraps a protective arm around me. “I think we just established that she’s my girl.”

  My palms go all sweaty and my heart flutters at being called his girl—I need to get a grip. This is not the time.

  “Who else knows about the marks?” Zander questions.

  Tristan’s stance becomes uncomfortable. “The three of us. But it’s not just about the marks; there is more to it.”

  He holds our focus as he recounts a story Freya shared with him earlier, adding to it what he already knew to be fact. The more he speaks, the more my stomach churns in a combination of fear, confusion, and anger. By the end of it, I can’t even decipher my feelings anymore.

  Traded. My life has been traded for my aunt Eve’s. This is the real reason that the Diablo Fairies are after me. For Asmodeus’s own personal revenge against my clan.

  I was handed to him on a silver platter by the archangel Michael, my aunt Eve’s father, whom I grew up loving. Eve and the rest of my family have no idea of the betrayal set upon them. I realize in this moment that we’re all just pawns.

  Zander sighs. “This means potential war between not only our realms, but the gargoyles, the deities, the Angelic Council, and the dark army. Hell, the entire fucking world.”

  “What are our other options?” I go into royal mode.

  “We need to take this step by step and consider who knows what.” Zander fires back, using his military tone.

  “The Diablo Fairies are only a threat to Serena and the gargoyles. If she stays within the woodland realm, they won’t attack. For now, they’re quiet,” Tristan points out.

  “How do you know that?” My fingers dig into my arm.

  His eyes fall to me. “After my discussion with Freya, I reached out to a friend who got a hold of the secondary treaty. Asmodeus can only attempt an attack on you within human realms, not the supernatural ones. If he tries, it breaks and nullifies the treaty, and the Angelic Council can step in and stop additional attempts.”

  The hair on the back of my neck tingles as an electrical charge fills the air and my emotions heighten. “If my family knew the treaty existed, they would bait the dark army and end this. It will place them in danger.”

  “But they don’t,” Tristan reminds.

  “So that’s why the dark army never attacks when I’m here,” I say under my breath. “They can’t, per the treaty.”

  Tristan gives me a sympathetic look. “Let’s just take this one step at a time. First, we need to figure out what Ophelia and Oren are up to. While that happens, we should begin to prepare the woodland realm for war. Once I denounce the marriage decree, the water realm is bound to attack. We’ll deal with the rest after we figure out how to secure peace between the woodland and water realms.” He turns his focus to Zander. “We need to find a way to alert Asher and the St. Michaels of what Michael did without interfering with their family balance or handling of it.”

  “Wait,” I step in. “You can’t. If they find out what Michael did, they will be devastated. My aunt, everyone.”

  “No, you were right before. If they’re made aware, then they can act and strategize appropriately,” he suggests.

  “That was me thinking out loud. I wasn’t suggesting we tell them. We need to handle this on our own,” I argue.

  Zander scoffs. “No offense, but we’re about to walk into our own shitshow. We have treason charges to explore, a potential war to prepare for, and we’re about to have one very pissed off water fairy, followed by an even more pissed off nymph princess. Don’t even get me started on Ophelia.”

  I meet Tristan’s eyes, pleading. “These marks bind us, which means they tie our realms. If one falls, they both do. You are half gargoyle and bound to their heir, which means both realms’ problems deserve our equal attention.”

  Tristan stares at me for a moment before sliding his eyes back to his brother. “What do you think?”

  “Our army can’t handle both realms’ wars. You’re talking about simultaneously fighting off the water realm and the Diablo Fairies. It’s just not possible. No matter how strong our army is, and how amazing your commanders are,” Zander affirms, “we can handle the water realm only.”

  “What if together, we were to handle one enemy at a time?” I suggest, and both brothers turn their attention to me. “I’m safe here for now. That means the Diablo Fairies do not need to be dealt with. Any nuisances they cause, my clan and the gargoyles at the Academy can handle for a while.”

  Tristan pinches the bridge of his nose. “If the water realm declares war on us, I don’t want you here in danger.”

  I roll my eyes. “I am a protector. A warrior. I can fight.”

  “No.” His response is quick.

  My brow lifts in annoyance at him.

  “I mean, yes, of course you can fight. You’re strong enough and certainly capable to do so, but this is not your battle to wage. It’s mine,” he counters.

  I cup my hand around my hair and push it to the side, showing the emblem behind it.

  “This says it’s my fight too, Tristan.”

  “What if we don’t fight now,” Zander says offhandedly.

  I glimpse Tristan’s confused look, which must mirror my own, as we both turn to him silently.

  He rolls his eyes at us. “I realize that not going to war in the supernatural world is like not having hot dogs at a baseball game.” He winces, “Poor analogy. There will be plenty of time for bloodshed later. Right now, what if we approached this in a more—oh, I don’t know—strategic and tactical way?” he suggests.

  “Go on,” Tristan encourages.

  “After today, it’s clear that Freya knows more than she lets on about matters of realm affairs. It might be best to see what else she knows,” he advises.

  “About my mother and Oren?”

  “In my bones, I know they’re up to something. I just
need a little more time to figure out exactly what it is. If we declare war, I won’t have time. But if we stay the course, we might buy another few days. A week, even,” he finishes.

  “The course being?” Tristan crosses his arms.

  “We keep up appearances,” I interject.

  Tristan’s eyes find mine and his brows drop over them.

  I hesitate, trying to form my thoughts. “I’m in no danger in your realm from the dark army. And war is not an issue if Freya and Oren believe that you are still going to go through with the wedding.”

  “You’re saying you want me to marry her now?” Tristan asks. “You’re giving me mixed signals here, raindrop.”

  “She’s good at that,” Zander mutters. “First, she loves you. Then me. Now you again,” he goes on.

  “I never loved you,” I hiss.

  “So you say.”

  “It’s true.”

  “True love, maybe.”

  “Enough,” Tristan interrupts.

  I growl and lunge for Zander but Tristan holds me back.

  “See that? That is raw, animalistic passion, for me.”

  I close my eyes and take in a calming breath before continuing. “We need to buy time. The only way to do that is to act as if nothing has changed. Zander and I will continue to pretend to be courting, and you,” I pause, my mouth going dry. “You can continue to keep up appearances with Ophelia and Oren. Freya obviously trusts you if she told you this today. Zander is right; you could use her trust to see what else she knows.” I force out, pretending to be okay with this scheme.

  “It’s a good plan,” Zander chimes in. “One that lets me go inconspicuously to Laven and secure evidence of treason.”

  “This plan will also grant us time to figure out what, and how, to tell my clan about the treaty. Their involvement gives you another ally in securing your realm against Oren when you denounce the wedding. Then, we can turn our attention to the Diablo Fairies and Asmodeus.”