City of Ruin, page 30
“For our family,” she whispers, and my heart hurts with fear all over again.
“Selene . . .” Having never uttered one of my worst fears to her until now, I struggle to find the words. “Draven may be gone, but childbirth is another risk in—”
“I know,” she soothes me. “But I am not afraid.”
I pull Midnight to a stop and force Selene to look at me. To see the terror that is very real and alive inside me. “I am.”
“I know.” She reaches up to cup my face, and I lean into her touch, realizing I need her far more than I ever allowed myself to admit. “But this is where I am meant to be,” she says. “I believe that with all my heart. My place is with you and Paige, and whatever happens, well, it’s how it was intended.”
I scour her face, looking for a sliver of fear, but all I find is sincerity. This woman will save me from myself, I realize. Somehow. Some way.
I capture her mouth with a desperate kiss, inhaling her as I allow myself to believe it’s true.
After a moment, her thumb brushing my cheek, Selene pulls away. I collect myself a moment longer before opening my eyes again. I’ve never wanted to run away from my duties more than I do in this moment, when all I want is to bask in the promise of happiness, just her and me a while longer.
“Come,” she says, nodding to the gathering crowd ahead. “They’re waiting for us.”
I nod, and a few moments later, I pull Midnight to a halt just outside a makeshift triage camp. People are covered in soot, and ash still floats in the air. Prudy and a few of the others stop from sorting through the rubble, leaning against their shovels as we approach.
“Selene!” A cacophony of children’s voices fill the air as Paige, the twins, and the others rush over to us.
Midnight spooks, sidestepping them, but I calm her and help Selene down.
“You’re all right!” Beatrice sings.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she assures them, and pulls each of them into an embrace.
As I dismount, and the exhausted villagers from Northshire drink the water offered them and turn to face me, I know I can’t put off addressing everyone any longer.
Clearing my throat, I climb onto an empty cart. “Thank you—all of you—for coming to our aid!” My voice booms over the dozens of men and women as they fall into silence. I meet Raiden’s mournful gaze. Then Bart’s and Victoria’s. “Because of you, Briarwood remains ours and Selene is safe.” I look from the butcher to the weaver and the blacksmith next. “But I know it did not come without cost. Go back to Emberbrook, to your children,” I tell them. “Mourn your friends and family who sacrificed their lives for this place. Remember their smiles and the happiness you shared in this life.” I meet Collins’s eyes, then Bronson the healer’s as Prudy comes to stand beside him. “The work can wait.” I glance at what’s left of the manor.
“What about the Council?” someone calls out, and I shake my head.
“I will make a trip to the City District. They will know what happened here, and they will hear it from me. But that is for me to worry about. You—” I say, calling out as loudly as I can, “you are all heroes today and deserve respite in your mourning.”
I feel their sorrow like it’s my own, hating that any sacrifice had to be made tonight. I feel the loss of Mona more keenly as the lack of her presence sinks in, and my hands tremble.
I’m about to turn away from the sorrowful faces of my friends and workers and wards as they accept their new reality, when Selene’s fingers lace with mine. I look down at her as she squeezes, and for the first time, I don’t feel alone in this, and never will again.
52
SELENE
TWO WEEKS LATER
As I gather the drying laundry from the lines, I ignore that cold, scared, and lonely feeling I’ve known most of my life as it tries to eke its way back into my heart and mind. Turning the simple band around on my finger, I lift my face to the peeking sunlight. I can almost feel Greyson standing beside me, and I cling to it, as I’ve done many times in the last twelve days. Even if the hours have felt more like days, and the days like weeks, when I close my eyes, I can still feel him. I can imagine Greyson in bed, feel the strength of his arms around me.
From the corner of my eye, I watch Nell and Victoria sorting firewood into their baskets. And Demetri, a young man a couple of years older than Nell, stops to offer them both an apple from his sack. I don’t miss the way Nell’s cheeks flush as their hands touch—how she pulls her fingers away from his when she realizes they’ve lingered too long.
“You’re brooding,” Prudy says as she walks up behind me. Her apron swishes against the bolts of fabric she carries.
“Not brooding,” I tell her. “Thinking. Longing, perhaps. But not brooding.”
“All is well. Greyson is respected and there is no reason they would doubt him. And,” she says, nodding to my ring finger. “You made it official, so they should have no qualms.”
I nod, but until he comes home, I will remain restless.
Prudy eyes me closely. She misses Greyson too—I know she does. She worries about him as much as I do. “Let me look at you,” she says, nudging me to face her. She’s not gentle, more motherly than anything—familiar with me, as if she’s known me all my life—but I don’t mind her fussing. I welcome it, actually.
Gently, Prudy takes my chin between her fingers and tilts my face toward the light so she can better see my healing wounds from the night of the fire. “The bruising is gone. Your cuts and scrapes look well enough.”
“I should hope so. You’ve been rubbing salve on me nightly for nearly two weeks now.”
She gives me a look and tilts her head. “Don’t fret, my dear,” Prudy adds. “Greyson will return.”
Nodding, I rub my arms. “I know.” I flash her a placating smile as she walks to the cottage outside the main house. Since we’re temporarily staying with Bart, Victoria, and all the children, it’s quite a full house, but they have welcomed us with open arms while we rebuild in the new Emberbrook.
As I take the rest of the laundry down, my thoughts drift again. I watch Nell and Demetri as they gaze awkwardly at one another. This is what life should be—full of first loves and awkward moments, dreams and heartache. After all we’ve been through, I can sleep at night, knowing it was all for something far greater than us. A new generation. Hope and second chances.
“What are we looking at?” a familiar baritone meets my ears.
Spinning around, I nearly fall into Greyson as I throw my arms around him. “You’re home!”
He inhales long and deep, squeezing me against him before he cranes his neck to peer down at me. “You doubted me?”
“No, but I missed you,” I say, and as tears fill my eyes, I realize how worried I’d been that his plans would be foiled and the Council would return instead.
Taking my head in his hands, Greyson kisses my temple, cheek, and mouth. Then he looks at me. “Don’t cry, my love,” he murmurs, and wipes my silent tears away with his thumbs. Greyson looks tired, but his eyes are wide and bright.
Nell laughs, drawing our attention, and when I look over, I realize Victoria is gone, leaving Demetri to help Nell with the woodpile.
“I think Nell has a suitor.” I sigh, happy but unable to deny my apprehension for her all the same. “Or she soon will, at least.”
Greyson watches them a moment, his fingers lacing with mine. “Demetri is a good man. He’s been here since he was seven,” he reassures me. “He would be a good choice for Nell.”
Choice. I beam at Greyson. But his exhaustion is too prominent to ignore, and I turn to face him fully again. “Tell me,” I say. “How did it go in New London?”
With a deep breath, he nods toward Midnight. “Walk with me?”
I nod and fall into step beside him.
“Northshire is ours,” he says, and though I wasn’t expecting that, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised.
“On what conditions?”
Greyson runs his fingers through his hair as we lead Midnight to the stables. “None, other than filling production requirements. Apparently, Draven was having difficulty doing even that. He was working his people too hard, and was continuously short-handed.”
When we reach the corral, Greyson turns to me. “It will be a lot more work, and I will need your help,” he admits. “I was hoping to ease you into things a bit more, but—”
I take Greyson’s free hand and hold it to my heart. “I am in this with you—in all ways. We’ll do whatever it takes. Especially if we want this place to be greater than it already is.”
Greyson nods, his gaze lingering on me before he continues. “I’m glad to hear you say that because the Council wasn’t the reason for my delay.”
I frown. “No?”
“Chauncey and I had some things to tend to.”
“Is Sable okay?”
He pets Midnight’s face and pulls her reins over her head. “Yes, I think it’s a relief being away from the country and all the reminders. She’s been working in his greenhouse. It gives her a sense of peace.”
Relief lessens my coiling apprehension a little, but not entirely. “Then what is it?” I squint at him, trying to read his hesitance. “What news do you have?”
“Killian.” Greyson says his brother’s name as if he’s afraid it will bite him, and I hold my breath. “The Berkano, his ship, was spotted in Old France three months ago, heading to Norseland with a shipload of goods to trade. The captain who spoke to him remembered Killian clearly—he told him he was crazy, that no one sails to Norseland and lives.” Greyson smiles at that, and I find I can’t help but smile in return.
“Do you think he is still there?” I ask, practically giddy to see the brilliance in Greyson’s eyes, more blue than gray in the sunny afternoon.
“The winter sea is treacherous, and Killian knows that. He’s been waiting out storm season in some tavern, no doubt, wrapped in furs and women, until the time is right.” Greyson grins until it brightens his whole face. “It might only be a matter of days until he’s home.”
I can hardly contain my excitement and I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. “I’m so happy to hear it.” I inhale his scent of leather, drowning in the comfort that he’s really, truly home. “How long does a voyage from Norseland take?”
“With any luck,” Greyson says, kissing my hair. “Two or three weeks. Hopefully, no longer than that.”
I take a step back. “Your brother is coming home,” I repeat, wanting Greyson, who has been suffering and stewing in silence about this for weeks, to feel every bit of joy he should, learning such news.
He chuckles and I brush a wayward strand of his mane from his face. “I’m so happy for you,” I breathe. “And for this place,” I add. “With Emberbrook to complete, we’re going to need the help, to be sure. The timing couldn’t be bett—”
“Papa!” Paige cheers, and runs over with Jon and Evie. She throws herself into her father’s arms, and Jon and Evie smile uncontrollably, simply because they have so much to be cheerful about.
“Did you bring me something?” Paige chirps. “And something for my friends?”
Though Greyson makes a ghastly face of confusion, he winks at me. “For you and your friends? I’m not certain. You might be able to find something in my pack,” he says, untying it from the saddle. He hands it to Paige, offering Midnight’s reins to the man in the stable. “Thank you, Thomas.”
Thomas nods, and Greyson is once again consumed by his daughter. I watch as Paige pulls out three small porcelain dolls, fancier than anything Beatrice and Evie have ever seen, a ball for Jon, and lace ribbons.
“Those are for Nell,” Greyson explains. “Why don’t you run and give them to her?”
“Okay!” Paige sings.
“Wait!” I command, and the children stop in their tracks. “You’ve just received gifts. What do you say?”
“Thank you!” they all sing in unison, and Paige lifts on her tiptoes to kiss her father’s cheek before running off, Nell’s lace ribbons fluttering behind her.
“Sable picked them out,” Greyson confesses, wrapping his arm around my waist as we watch the children. “She thought Nell would prefer them over a doll at her age. I was clueless.”
Smiling up at him, I study the scruffy curve of his cheek when he smiles, and I pray the day will never come when he stops smiling, because it’s the most addictive thing I’ve ever seen. When he feels my lingering gaze, Greyson peers down at me. Desire flashes in his eyes as his smile grows to a grin, and before I can catch my breath, my beastly prince presses his lips against mine, and the entire world fades away.
EPILOGUE
SELENE
SIX MONTHS LATER
I sit with Greyson in a small tavern in the harbor town of Lowestoft, waiting for Killian’s ship to arrive. But it’s been three weeks since a horrendous storm drifted in from the North Sea with no sign of the Berkano, and it’s hard to know what to think.
“He can survive anything,” Greyson says aloud, as if he’s not only reading my thoughts but also reminding himself. I’ve never seen him on the brink of defeat, but that’s what his brother’s delayed arrival has done to him. His waning hope had been stoked to full flame, only to be doused again.
“Greyson,” I say, reaching for his hand. I jerk him toward me, flattening his hand over my belly as the little bugger moves inside. Greyson’s mouth quirks, and temporarily, the shadows in his eyes dissipate. As the kicking subsides, I lean back in my seat, glancing from the hot tea steaming in front of me to Greyson’s untouched ale. Even if the thought of it makes my stomach churn, its effects would be welcome. “At least drink something, for goodness’ sake, since I can’t. Put me out of my misery.” Rubbing my swollen belly, I blow out a breath.
“If you insist,” he says through a chuckle.
“I do, I really do.”
He takes a few gulps.
“I miss your smile,” I tell him. “And the sound of your laughter. I miss the children’s too.” I drop that one in there with a shamefaced, averted glance. Even weekly letters sent by riders do little to ebb the pangs of longing I have to see them again, to settle into our home, barely lived in, in the new Emberbrook.
“You’re using the children against me, aren’t you?” he says with another chuckle. “Have you no shame?”
“I’m a desperate woman who isn’t sleeping well and I’m beginning to swell. Excuse me if I miss the small comforts of home.”
“Wow,” he says, a full grin this time. “You really do sound like Mistress of Briarwood now. Shall I fetch your slippers, my lady?” he says, bowing slightly.
I toss a piece of bread at him and roll my eyes, unable to resist a smile of my own. Despite my discomfort, I know I must keep things light since Greyson will find every possible reason to worry about me.
With a deep, audible sigh, he finally concedes. “Of course we can go back. It was supposed to be a brief trip, and I’ve dragged you here when you should be resting.” He shakes his head. “I can stew at home as well as I can stew here.” His face sours as he downs the last of his ale. “At least there, I have Chauncey’s gin and whiskey to drown in.” He pushes his chair from the small table we sit at in the corner of the pub.
“Gerty—” He rises to his feet. “I’ll settle our tab tonight. And we’ll leave first thing tomorrow,” he announces, and the barkeep nods with a smile in my direction.
I wink at her, my new friend so far away from home, and I rise to my feet as well. “Perhaps we can take some stew to the room?” I simper. “Eat while we’re wrapped in blankets by the fire.”
That heated look in Greyson’s eyes returns. And despite my own desires, I’m relieved to see I still affect him in my growing state.
“Gerty!” Greyson calls with sudden urgency, his eyes still fixed on me, dark and mischievous. “Have stew and ale sent to our room.”
I laugh as she winks at me this time, and as Greyson takes my hand, the door to the pub flings open. A strapping man with longish hair, haphazardly pulled back in a messy knot, strides in. His clothes are well-worn, his shirt dirty, and his attire is not of this land. As he turns and peers around the room, I know immediately who it is.
“Killian.” Greyson breathes his brother’s name as if he’s afraid he’s seen a ghost.
There’s a beat of a moment when both men are frozen in time. Neither moves. Neither seems to breathe. Until finally, Killian’s mouth curves and an easy, heart-stopping grin engulfs his face. “Brother!” he says, and in two strides, Killian’s arms are around Greyson, and the twins embrace one another with affectionate claps on each other’s backs.
My eyes blur as I realize this day, the one Greyson has waited for longer than I’ve known him, has finally come, and all that’s left of his haunting fears can be put to bed.
“Where the hell have you been, little brother?”
“Little?” Killian laughs, and pulls away. “Two minutes counts for nothing.”
But Greyson doesn’t give in to his baiting, his expression reserved as usual, and Killian sobers. “There is much to tell you,” he says, and whatever Killian has endured these past months reflects plainly in the exhaustion shadowing his face. “And I will. I promise.”
Greyson looks at me, and it’s only then that Killian notices me standing there. He frowns, eyeing me up and down before his eyes snap back to his brother. “She’s with you?”
As the realization sinks in, what looks like relief flashes in Killian’s eyes, and as his grin grows wider, he looks at me with renewed appreciation. “You must be special,” he says easily, shaking his head in awe.
“Killian, this is Selene.”
“And she’s pregnant . . .” Killian swallows thickly, apprehension marring his features. “With your child?” And while I don’t blame his surprise, or his fear, knowing all too well what Greyson has been through, I nip Killian’s line of thought before he can sour the mood.
