The Tears of Elios (20 page)

Ranealya lean forward to hear his response.

“Anilayus sent me on a ‘recruitment and morale’ tour around Elgeus,” he replied dryly. “You know, to reassure the subjects that all is well in the kingdom and to make sure our army is well stocked with young men eager to lay down their lives for my brother.” He thumped the insignia on his chest with his fist. “Apparently, he decided I was a suitable diplomat for the job in his absence.”

For a moment, he feared Ranealya would change into a large wolf and attack him like she did the Azekborn, but she visibly relaxed when she heard the sarcasm in Aemil’s explanation for his tour.

His eyes traveled between Gregor and Ranealya. “But imagine my good fortune running into you and your lovely assistant on the road today.”

Gregor cringed every time Aemil sarcastically said “assistant”. He would have a difficult time explaining to him that there was nothing between them. Perhaps it would have been easier telling him she was his wife. That bit of news would have gone over well in Dromore.

“What projects have you been working on that would now require an assistant?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and thought he heard her snicker behind him. At least she was amused by the Prince’s accusations. “The usual—translating old scrolls, recording knowledge where I can find it so it won't be lost forever.” Aemil leaned his head slightly toward him, indicating he would be interested in hearing more. “Let me tell you about some of the spells I've discovered.” He began sharing his findings from the elvan scrolls he had translated so far.

It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a small keep that he realized he’d been rambling like an eager schoolboy for over an hour. He’d also failed to mention his discovery of sepharium or his knowledge of shape-shifters, which was probably due to the fact Ranealya rode right behind him. Some things should remain between just the two of them.

He looked up at the stone building as he entered the courtyard. Something familiar about it nagged at his memory. “Isn't this—”

“—Lord Brerton’s old castle?” Aemil finished for him. “Yes, although Anilayus uses it as a hunting lodge now that Lord Brerton lost his head. There are servants here year-round, so we should be comfortable for the evening. That is, of course, unless you're in some great hurry to get to Arcana.”

Gregor followed his gaze to where Ranealya still sat on her horse just inside the gates. While everyone else in the party had dismounted, she continued to look over her shoulder at the road.

Duke bounced around her horse. “
Come down and play
,” the dog begged with a wagging tail.

He was so focused on the dog that he didn’t see Aemil approach her. “It's safe to come down, you know. This is a royal residence.”

Her eyes flickered to Gregor before she dismounted.

Aemil handed the reins to a waiting servant, who whisked to the horse away. “So, Ranealya—that is an unusual name—tell me more about yourself. How did a lovely lady like you end up as his assistant?”

Her gaze lingered on Gregor as she smiled. He prayed she wouldn’t say something that would embarrass him. Or worse, tell the truth so he would end up like the former owner of the castle. “He saved my life,” she replied at last before turning her attention back to Aemil. “I am indebted to him.”

Aemil raised one dark brow. “I see. And what exactly do you do to assist him?”

He wanted to tell Aemil to stop harassing her, but her beauty captivated him.
By the Goddess, she had given herself dimples when she smiled!

“I assist him with his translations,” She grabbed Duke’s collar. The dog tugged her arm in the direction of the kitchen, tempted by the smell of roasting meat that filled the courtyard. “I need to attend to Duke, if you don't mind, Your Highness.”

Aemil took a step in the direction, then spun around on his heels and wrapped his arm over Gregor's shoulder. “If I wasn't already a happily married man, I'd go after her. Of course, I would try to restrain myself since you saw her first, but still…” He whistled lowly as he led Gregor towards the main hall. “How lucky can you be? Brains and beauty! You can't deny there’s something more going on between you two than just her assisting you with your translations. I saw the way you were looking at her.”

Gregor rubbed his forehead. “Please, enough! There is nothing between us.”

“Then perhaps there should be, eh?” Aemil grabbed his chin and turned his head in her direction. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow on her hair, making it shine like antique gold. “You'd be a fool to let her slip away from you. I know you're a little shy around women, and I don't blame you after what happened with Ingra, but it's been ten years!”

At the mention of Ingra’s name, a stabbing pain in his chest radiated chills throughout his body. All he wanted to do was forget her, but it seemed lately, everyone had been trying to remind him about his first disaster with love. He didn’t even want to admit to having those kind of feelings for Ranealya. She would just hurt him like Ingra did. After all, why would a shape-shifter like her fall in love with him? She’d even told him she never stayed in one place for very long, and he knew it would be dangerous for both of them if she did. It was far better to keep his wits about him rather than lose his heart all over again. He was older and wiser now, after all.

“Gregor, are you alright?” a feminine voice asked, dragging him from his thoughts. Somehow, he instinctively went to her, and she stood in front of him, calm and serene.

“Why did you change your appearance on me? I thought you wanted to be plain so you wouldn’t attract too much attention.”

She smiled so the dimples cut deeper into her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with the Prince?”

“Ranealya, if this is some sort of retaliation—”

Her quiet laughter silenced him as she closed the space between them. This was the Ranealya he knew, not the shy maiden she’d pretended to be all afternoon. “No, this was for you. When I saw how things were between you two, I realized he would have much more respect for you if he saw you were travelling with someone more attractive than my original disguise.” Her voice lowered to a purr as she pressed her body against his and traced the edge of his jaw with one slender finger. “And it worked.”

Blood rushed straight to his crotch, and his skin burned. He grabbed her hand and lowered it as he took a step back. “He already suspects there’s something going on between us. You don’t need to encourage him.”

“It’s better that he suspects we’re lovers than for him to know the truth.”

“True, but…” He turned his head and saw Aemil grinning at them from the door of the great hall. When he looked back at her, she winked.

“Don’t worry, Gregor. I’ll try to behave”

“Please, for my sake.” He unwrapped his fingers from her hand and wandered toward the Prince. A gust of wind blew through the courtyard, draining the warmth from his chest where her body had touched his. He wished she would stop playing so many mind games with him. As he passed Aemil, he tried his best to glare at him, but the Prince’s grinned widened.

He fell into step with Gregor. “I hope you’re not too angry with me to decline my dinner invitation.”

His mouth watered as the rich, spicy aromas of lamb and garlic filled his nose. “I suppose I could suffer your company if it meant a full belly.”

Aemil laughed and slapped him on the back. Everything had returned to normal between them again.

The great hall provided a warm and cozy welcome after the chilly late winter day. The tapestries were richer than he remembered, more suitable for a king than a minor noble. The King’s crest had replaced the Brerton family coat of arms above the mantle, but otherwise, it hadn’t changed too much from his childhood. It remained a true great hall, with large wooden tables lined up in rows that would later serve as beds for the soldiers and servants. In the middle of the hall, a small table stood on a raised platform in front of the cavernous fireplace. He followed Aemil and sat in the chair held out for him by a waiting servant.
Ah, it felt good to be waited on again
. He reached for his wine goblet and saw that the table had been set for three.

He looked up, glass in hand, and watched as Aemil escorted a very uncomfortable looking Ranealya to the table. “My dear, I insist you join us for dinner. Here, take the seat closest to the fire so you can keep warm.”

Her expression was less than pleased as he guided her into the seat next to him, and Gregor hid his smile behind the goblet. She deserved this after changing her appearance.

“Your Highness, I—” she began as she tried to stand, but Aemil shoved her back into the chair.

“No excuses. I want the pleasure of your company tonight.”

Her eyes widened, and she sent a panicked look in Gregor's direction.

He almost choked on the wine as he smothered his laughter. She would get no help from him.

“I'm not sure I'm worthy to sit at the Royal Table, Your Highness.”

Aemil sat and poured some wine into his goblet. “Ranealya, perhaps I haven't made myself clear to you, so let me be blunt. First off, unlike my brother, I don't give a damn about this ‘Royal Highness’ pomp and ceremony, so unless we’re in front of him and the entire court, please refer to me as Aemil. Secondly, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm very curious about you. I know how much Gregor treasures his privacy—almost at the point of not speaking to anyone other than his dog for more than a year at a time. For him to invite someone new into his life is no small feat. Therefore, what was it about you that made him want to have contact with another human being again?”

Gregor leaned back in his chair. “I thought it was obvious.”

Aemil filled her goblet with the remainder of the wine. “I know there's more to her than her beauty that holds your attention, but I'm grateful you’ve found a reason to come out of that cave in the woods you've been hiding in for the last ten years, whatever it may be.” He held Gregor's gaze over the rim of the goblet for a moment before inhaling the bouquet of the wine and taking a drink. “Try the wine, Ranealya. It's quite good.”

“I don't drink.”

“Well, tonight you do,” he said, taking another swallow. “Don't make me have to issue a royal command.”

Gregor tried to remain stone-faced when she looked at him again for assistance, and he pressed his lips together to suppress his amusement. She couldn’t flash her fangs or resort to her usual feral behavior now. She reached for her glass and took a tentative sip.

“That wasn't so bad, was it? So, where are you from?”

“Here and there,” she replied instantly.

“And how old are you?”

“Old enough.”

“How long have you been assisting Gregor?”

“For a while.”

Aemil frowned at her vague answers, and Ranealya smiled a little too sweetly as she took a longer sip of the wine. She’d been anticipating his questions and had already formed answers to them.
So this was how she was going to act after being forced to endure their company for dinner
. “And how do you like your lamb?”

“Rare,” she said, flashing her white teeth.

Gregor tensed as he had a flashback of her carrying the rabbits with their broken necks. He worried that she might entertain Aemil with the same tale, especially when he thought he glimpsed the longer than normal canines in her wolfish grin. Aemil was taken aback by her answer, as well, and Gregor decided it was time to intervene. “Aemil, how's your mother?”

Aemil's attention snapped to him. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“But you know that far better than I do.” A soon as he spoke the words, he knew he made a mistake. Unfortunately, Aemil realized it, too. Gregor shook his head. He didn’t want Ranealya to know the truth, but Aemil wasn’t so accommodating.

“Aunt Therris is as well as she ever was.”

Gregor hoped Ranealya hadn’t heard Aemil's reply.

“Aunt?” she asked, her eyes traveling back and forth between them to see who would answer her first.

The corners of Aemil's mouth curled into a grin. “What? Didn't he tell you that we’re cousins?”

Gregor closed his eyes and prayed to the Goddess that this was all a dream, but Mariliel wasn’t listening this evening. When he opened his eyes, a mixture of confusion and accusation distorted Ranealya’s face.

“Is this true, Gregor?” A subtle tremor shook her voice.

Yes, she was reacting just the way he thought she would.

“Yes, Ranealya, our mothers are sisters,” he said before he drained his goblet.

He didn’t need to look at her to know she was upset. He heard her inhale sharply through her teeth. Her fingers dug into her palms. He knew she was trying hard to remain calm in the presence of the Prince. If they had been at his cottage, she would have already lost her temper. But thankfully, she remembered her promise to behave and took a shaky breath in and out before asking, “And why didn't you tell me?”

“Yes, why didn't you tell her about your royal heritage sooner? One would think you were ashamed to be related to me.”

Gregor smiled wryly at his cousin. “You couldn't be closer to the truth. Who would want to be related to the Royal Family?”

Aemil broke the tension with a laugh. “Don't be offended, Ranealya. As I mentioned before, Gregor is a very private person. He has his reasons—”

“—which we will not go into.”

Aemil looked a bit surprised but nodded in understanding. “As I was saying before my cousin so rudely interrupted me, he has his reasons why he doesn't want people to know that his mother is the sister of the former Queen, his father was the Duke of Akershire, and his cousin is none other than King Anilayus himself.”

Gregor wanted nothing more than to disappear at that very moment, but not only had he forgotten the spell that would camouflage him with his surroundings, the servants used the break in the conversation to serve the roasted leg of lamb that he had been smelling ever since he entered the great hall. He was too hungry to leave the succulent meat behind. He tried to change the topic. “Dinner looks delicious.”

Ranealya chugged the contents of her glass and stiffened as she swallowed. She closed her eyes, ignoring the steaming meat in front of her. “Your father was the Duke of Akershire?” She opened her eyes and waited for his answer.