Page 63 of Twisted Bonds
Yet, the way she’s staring at him now, her face twisted into something unreadable but worry caressing the bond between us; I fear I misunderstood her true feelings for him.
That only makes me feel worse.
Mira chews on her lower lip, anxiety etching lines around her eyes. Though just her comforting scent makes this dingy room feel like home.
“Can’t we just alert someone with authority?” Bobble blurts out suddenly, his voice booming through the silence like an explosion. “Surely they’d handle it better than us?”
“And say what? They’d laugh us out the door.”
“That’s the best-case scenario,” Sunder grumbles, his tattoos shifting with the tension in his muscles. “Callum’s right. We wouldn’t be believed.”
There’s a beat of silence, heavy like the prelude to a storm. Mira fiddles with a stray thread on her sleeve, lost in thought.
“Perhaps a mercenary band?” Bobble suggests, his bulky frame making the chair beneath him look like it was made for a child.
“Unreliable,” Tairyn scoffs. “They’d sell us to Yurghen for a sack of gold.”
Bobble starts again, scratching his beard thoughtfully, “We should find an ally. Surely there’s someone out there who would believe us. Someone with influence. An army, maybe?”
“Who? Be realistic, Bobble.” My tone is sharper than I intend. I can see it in Mira’s quick glance, the way her lips press together in disapproval. The link between us pulses in protective fury before quickly falling away. I knew she had other mates, other bonds. I didn’t realize what now seems like an obvious hierarchy and who truly holds her heart.
My stomach twists as I glare at his response. “Someone like a king, maybe.”
A knowing smirk tugs at Tairyn’s lips as he pauses near our table, hands clasped behind his back like a general taking a report from his officers despite his current predicament. “You speak of Cor’than.”
“Exactly.” Bobble nods, pleased with himself. “Touchy subject or not, we need power on our side. And he’s our brother. Sort of. Right?”
“Cor’than,” Mira murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “Is that really the best option we have? The man who betrayed you, took your crown, and killed your friends.”
My shoulders shrug as I nod in agreement. I have no qualms about asking Cor’than. My memories are faded, barely there, as is my time as Dan’thiel. But I know much of his reign, the improvements he’s built into Valenfall to protect the weak and elderly. He installed a parliamentary system, similar to those seen among the human governments. His is the first kingdom in Illuemera to give the commoners a voice and purposely dilute his own power. He’s a ruler to be revered and respected above all others. Many of the High Fae disagree, of course. The might of his army is the only thing keeping the other kingdoms from dethroning him, lest their own commoners get the wrong idea about the right of rule.
Bobble mimics my compliant gesture. “We might have to dance with the devil yet.”
“Or at least dine with a king,” Tairyn adds with a thoughtful grin before resuming his pacing.
Sunder’s voice is a low growl that sends the hair on my arms standing up. “Right. Because he’s known for his generosity and not at all for backstabbing intrigue. Let’s add ‘dinner with a tyrant’ to our list of brilliant strategies.”
I open my mouth to correct him, but the glare he gives me makes me think better of it. I clamp my lips tightly, letting his bitter comments slink across the sparse room.
“Better than sitting ducks waiting for Yurghen’s ax to fall,” Mira retorts, giving Sunder an apologetic look.
“Alright, if not the king,” I start, my eyes scanning the restless faces around the table, “what about The Council of the Gods? They still wield influence if we can convince them to hear us out.”
“Too slow,” Sunder growls, his broad chest rising and falling with barely restrained frustration. “By the time they’ve debated and decided whether to let us make our case, the River would be long gone.”
“Look, we’re running out of options here,” Bobble says, clearly trying to ignite some spark of unity, but the tension around the table is taut, a bowstring waiting to snap.
“Clearly.” Tairyn’s voice is acidic as he turns to us, his green eyes alight with an infernal glee. “Because relying on Sunder’s brain to put together a rational thought is like asking a rock to float.”
Sunder’s chair is scraping against the stone floor, but Bobble places his palm on his chest to stop him. “Peace! We need to work together.”
“Work together?” Sunder shoves off the familiar touch, rising. His shadow falls over me as he stalks past Tairyn. “With him?”
“Sit down, Sunder,” Bobble says, calm but firm, following to lay a gentle hand on Sunder’s arm. “This isn’t helping.”
Sunder heaves a sigh, shaking off Bobble’s grip, but he’s a coiled spring, ready to unleash at the slightest provocation. “I say we surprise him in the middle of the night. A direct assault won’t be expected.”
“Fantastic idea,” Tairyn drawls, “if our goal is to die pointlessly.”