Toil and Trouble (9 page)

I shook my head at the futility of the conversation—I’d thought his angst was due to the fact that the war was nearly upon us; I had no idea that he never planned to bond again and even though I couldn’t say I was in love with the idea either, it still hurt. He reached out as if to console me but thought better of it and dropped his hand.

“If you aren’t willing to allow things to progress naturally to where they seem to be headed, where does that leave me?” I demanded, tears threatening my eyes.

He ran his hands through his hair as water droplets sprinkled onto the neck cuff of his robe. I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore and they came streaming down my cheeks but I didn’t care. I was too preoccupied with the fact that nothing would ever be what I wanted it to be where Rand was concerned. It was a hard pill to swallow.

“Don’t think of it like that, Jolie,” he started.

“And how should I think of it?” He went silent again. “You won’t answer my question so I will—it leaves me in the same place you always leave me…with nothing!”

“Jolie…”

I held my hand up to silence him. “This isn’t fair to me, Rand. I need to get over you and I need to move on.”

“You should also realize it’s difficult for witches to…procreate.”

I shooed him off with a wave of my hand. “I already knew that. Mathilda told me. But, I would have sacrificed that if it meant we could be together.”

“It would eventually destroy me if I wasn’t able to give you a baby.”

I turned toward the door again and twisted the doorknob. “I just can’t do this anymore, Rand.”

“Jolie,” he said as the door refused to budge. “Don’t leave.”

“Open the door,” I demanded, the need to escape suffocating.

He was on me almost instantly. “God, don’t you see this is just as difficult on me?”

“Difficult on you?” I scoffed, jerking away from him. “You’re the one who won’t give in to the possibilities, not me. So, no, I don’t see that this is in any way as difficult for you.”

“I haven’t said no to bonding…in the future,” he corrected in a small voice.

“But, you aren’t exactly welcoming the idea either.” I paused and wiped the tears from my eyes. “And that’s not good enough for me.”

“I thought our relationship was coming along nicely, why can’t we just go back to how it was?”

“Rand, we can’t have sex. What kind of relationship is that?”

“Perhaps…”

“There’s no point in discussing this anymore.”

He slammed his hand against the door, his frustration palpable. “Unless I commit to bonding with you?”

“Yes, well no!” I yelled. “I don’t know, dammit.” And that was the truth of it. I wanted a relationship with Rand. Did I want to bond? I didn’t know. But, did it have to be all or nothing? Rand seemed to think so. Hmm, would I risk bonding to be with Rand? Yes, I would.

“If we attempt anything sexual, it will bond us.”

I dropped my fingers from around the doorknob and faced him. This is what it came down to—I wanted him to choose me, over his fear of bonding. I wanted him to love me enough that bonding would be an inconsequential issue.

“You need to decide if I’m worth it to you.”

“Even though the war…”

My hands fisted. “Screw the war; I’m talking about after the war—about our future together. You need to think about what will happen between us if we survive the war, because I won’t want to go back to how it is right now.”

“Is that an ultimatum?” he asked, his jaw clenched.

“Yes, I’m tired of waiting around for you. Yes, there’s a probability we will bond ourselves but that’s a chance I’m willing to take but if you aren’t, I need to…get over it.” I paused and faced him with all the determination of a saint. “Now, open the goddamned door.”

He grabbed my hand and pulled me into him, moving like he was going to kiss me but I jerked my hand from his grip. I couldn’t allow him to touch me or my intentions would be out the window. I noticed he’d released the doorknob and I threw the door open, disappearing into the hall.

Six

Three days went by and I crossed off each day on my calendar with a bold, black line like I was in prison. Otherwise, the days would have melted into the drab pool my life had recently become. It was like we were stuck in a perpetual holding pattern otherwise known as the lead up to the war with Bella.

“How is everything with you relationship wise?” Christa asked as she stuffed a wad of bread into her already full mouth. She rested her elbows on the table in Rand’s enormous kitchen and watched me, her expression too knowing.

I glanced away and gulped down the reluctance that always visited me whenever I thought about my relationship status, or lack thereof. I hadn’t told Christa about my most recent disappointment with Rand. I just didn’t have the strength to suffer through it again. In fact, I’d been doing my damndest to lock it into a secret vault in my head, where it could never see the light of remembrance again.

“I’ve sworn off anything that has a penis,” I said as I walked my half-eaten plate of shepherd’s pie to the trash.

Christa frowned and downed a few swallows of milk. “What about when you got to second base with Rand?”

Second base? Were we in third grade? And speaking of idiotic sexual synonyms, Rand had gotten a lot farther than second base. But, that was also something I didn’t want to think about.

“There’s nothing to tell where Rand is concerned,” I said with finality, rinsing off my plate and stacking it in the dishwasher.

“What about Sinjin?”

“Sinjin nothing,” I snapped, maybe a little too emphatically.

Christa spooned the last of her peas into her mouth and stood up. “Yeah right. He’s really freakin’ cute and I bet vamps are nasty under the sheets.”

She handed her plate to me and I rinsed it, entirely too curious about sex with Sinjin. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, as I see it, you have two options where men are concerned.” She leaned against the black marble counter top and held up her index finger. “One is Rand and I’m betting on him but if that doesn’t work, you have Sinjin.” She flicked up finger two. “And he’s number two.”

“Rand isn’t an option anymore,” I said, shaking my head as I started loading the dishwasher with the plethora of dishes lining the kitchen counter—all of which belonged to Christa. She seemed to harbor an aversion to cleanliness. “And neither is Sinjin. They both have penises, remember?”

At the thought of Rand and Sinjin’s male equipment, heat spiraled through my stomach.

Christa flicked up a third finger. “And another could be Odran, even though I can’t understand a word he says. But, you guys seem to communicate pretty well.”

My mouth dropped open at the mere contemplation of anything sexual with the King of the Fae. An image of his fairamours lounging on my bed met me like a blade through the eyes. “Oh my God, Chris, Odran is a walking STD petri dish. SO not going there!”

She looked puzzled. “Do fairies even get STDs?”

It was a good question and one I’d never considered. “Hmm, I don’t know.” I reached under the sink for the box of
Finish
powder detergent and poured it into the dishwasher dispenser.

“Probably not, huh?” she asked, still mesmerized. “I wonder if any supernatural beings get STDs. I mean, when have you ever heard of a werewolf with gonorrhea or a vampire with syphilis?”

“The vampire is not susceptible to syphilis,” Sinjin’s voice interrupted and I stood up so fast, I banged my head on the kitchen counter.

“Dammit, Sinjin!” I yelled, rubbing the back of my head while magicking the pain away. Dressed in his usual dark attire, he was every inch as sexy as he was dangerous.

“I apologize,” he said with the beginnings of a smile. “I have come to fetch you as we have received Bella’s declaration.” I started to worry about how much of our conversation Sinjin had overheard, but his announcement of Bella’s declaration wiped the concern clean out of my head.

“Bella’s letter of demands?” I asked.

Sinjin nodded. “Randall has called a meeting in the library and I imagined you wished to be present.”

A chill ran over my body and I wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to Sinjin or to the fact that Bella had sent her declaration.

“Thanks for letting us know,” I said and threw the dishwasher door closed, pressing the button for extra hot wash (Christa had a tendency not to rinse her dishes) and started for the library, Sinjin leading the way.

“Hmm, so can vampires get gonorrhea?” Christa asked.

“No,” Sinjin responded as he appeared to glide up the stairs.

“What about colds or the flu?” she continued.

“No and no,” Sinjin finished and offered me a cock eyed expression.

We were spared further incessant questions when we entered the library. Even though a fire burned in the hearth, there was a persistent chill in the room, like it was occupied by ghosts. Rand, Odran, Nigel and John gathered around the fireplace. None of them were seated so with a shrug, I took a seat on the chaise closest to the fireplace. Christa sat next to me.

“Sorry, we were finishing up dinner,” I offered with an embarrassed smile that was lost on Rand. In fact, he didn’t even glance up when we entered the room. Instead, he just tapped a letter against the palm of his hand. As regarded the letter, I had no idea what to expect and the feelings of anxiety and foreboding made me feel like throwing up.

Instead of delving into the letter right away, Rand merely clutched it, gripping it so that his knuckles turned white.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked when I couldn’t stand it any longer.

Rand faced me, expressionless. It was the first time we’d seen each other since our last…encounter. I could read nothing in his face and the blank wall of his emotions forced me to drop my gaze. I just couldn’t look at him, couldn’t keep myself from wondering what was going through his mind.

“Trent.”

“Start without him,” Christa said, nervously shaking her leg as she tended to do when agitated.

“Everyone must be present,” Rand said with finality.

No sooner did he finish his statement then Trent strolled into the room and threw himself into a wing-back chair opposite Christa and me, offering no apology. He definitely operated under the assumption of his own self importance. I noticed the frowns on everyone’s faces, but no one said anything.

Except for Rand.

“Promptness is a virtue, Trent.”

Trent feigned innocence with an open-mouthed “what are you talking about?” expression. Rand, shaking his head, slid a letter opener under the red wax seal and slit open the letter. He unfolded the ecru parchment and scanned the letter before clearing his throat.

“‘To Whom It Concerns,

‘As outlined by the Doctrine of the First Coven, should our side triumph, our doctrine is as follows:

‘As regards Bella Sawyer:

‘Bella Sawyer will become Queen of the Underworld and leader of all factions of vampires, wolves, demons, fairies and witches. All creatures will be divided into Covens and Covens will be assigned to regions as decided by the Queen. All ownership of land will revert to the Queen and Covens will live upon Crown property. All Crown Tenants will show fealty to the Queen in the form of rent.’”

“What?!” Trent asked, bashing his balled up fist into the arm of his chair. “None of us can own property?”

“Apparently,” Rand said, throwing Trent a scowl.

“Do you think her soldiers know about this?” I asked, wondering how anyone on her side could have agreed to such a proposition.

Odran shook his head. “Nay, I doona.” Then he faced Rand again. “Read oon.”

Rand nodded and resumed reading. “‘As regards any and all supporters of Rand Balfour including those who are not specifically designated below:

‘You will be subjects of the Queen. Each of those loyal to Balfour shall be given to the Queen’s legions to do with as they see fit.’”

“Slaves?” Christa asked, her mouth agape.

John draped his arms around her and nibbled on her ear. “Don’t worry, Babe, I’ll keep you safe.”

Christa smiled up at him and nestled against his broad chest. I ached as I looked at them, wishing I could find the same happiness. I shot a glance at Rand and noticed he was doing his best to ignore them…and me.

“Yes, as decreed, we would become slaves to Bella’s soldiers,” Rand said.

“I had imagined as much,” Sinjin responded with a yawn.

“We can’t let her win,” I started, tears filling my eyes. It was a stupid thing to say, elementary at the very least but it suddenly dawned on me how much we had to lose. If our side didn’t prevail, our lives would become intolerable, if we weren’t dead, that is.

Rand glanced at me and held the letter against his chest, regarding me sympathetically. “Perhaps the ladies should retire before I continue?”

No
, I thought indignantly, worried my voice would betray me.
This involves all of us. Keep reading.

Jolie
, Rand started.

I’m fine.

“What’s going on?” Trent asked, glancing at Rand.

“They’re talking with their thoughts,” Christa answered and glared at him, apparently still annoyed with his tardiness.

Rand didn’t respond but resumed reading after taking a moment or two to figure out where he’d left off. “‘As regards Rand Balfour:

‘You will be appointed as servant to the Queen. Your property will revert to the Queen and you will exist solely to do the Queen’s bidding.’”

His face was stoic and revealed nothing. Without so much as a pause, he continued. I had such a lump in my throat, I couldn’t find my voice. I wanted to reach out to him, to touch him and tell him he’d be okay but I couldn’t move.

“‘As regards Odran, King of the Fae:

‘You will be mated with the Queen, and act as her second in command.’”

“I willna mate that hideous creature,” Odran said, balling his hands into fists at his side. “I would rather die.”

It surprised me only momentarily that Bella would match herself with Odran but then I realized it was a political decision—if Bella could control the fairies, she really would dominate all the Underworld creatures. Without a strategic fae alliance, the fairies could still exist outside the law. I mean, it was impossible for anyone to find a fairy village unless they were invited. So, in order to maintain control over the fae, this made total sense.

“‘As regards Sinjin Sinclair: as a traitor, you will be put to death.’”

“Sinjin!” I gasped.

If I was outraged by the decree, Sinjin seemed unconcerned, as he did with most things. He merely smiled and raised his hand as if to say I shouldn’t be concerned either. “Continue, Randall,” he said stonily.

Rand didn’t even respond to the hated nickname and continued reading the letter. “‘As regards Jolie Wilkins…’”

I was still so flabbergasted by the fact that Bella had ordered Sinjin dead that it took me a moment to realize Rand had spoken my name. He glanced over at me and I gulped down the anxiety now climbing up my throat.

“Read it,” I croaked.

He dropped his eyes and continued. “‘You will be in the in the employ of the Queen and will reanimate the Queen’s dead and aid the Queen in her search for the prophetess.’”

“The what?” Trent asked.

I sighed, not even knowing where to start. “When Bella kidnapped me, she tried to make me bring back some witch whom she claimed was a prophet.”

“What does that mean, a prophet?” John asked.

“Bella believes the prophetess can alter history,” Varick finished, his orange hair brilliant against the light of the fire.

I nodded. “Well, the woman wasn’t the prophet Bella was looking for so I guess she’s still looking for her.”

“Who is this prophet?” Odran demanded.

I shrugged. “No one knows.”

Odran scratched his chin, as if in deep contemplation. “This is the first I’ve heard ah this.”

I wasn’t sure if any of the fairy elders knew of the prophet but I stayed quiet. I wasn’t even sure a prophet actually existed.

“What else do you know?” Varick inquired nonchalantly but I could see his body tuned to my response, like a hawk watching a field mouse.

I shrugged. “I don’t know anything other than what I’ve said.”

Varick nodded and appeared to accept my answer. I glanced back at Rand and signaled for him to start reading again with a wave of my hand.

“‘When you are deemed no longer useful to the Queen, Ryder…’”

Rand stopped reading and scanned the letter in silence as my heart plummeted. “Rand please!” I begged.

He shook his head and continued reading. “‘Ryder will retain full custody of you to use as he deems acceptable.’” He reiterated the final words, “as he deems acceptable” with resigned solemnity. His lips were tight as he studied me and his eyes burned with hatred.

I felt as if some part of myself had withered inside by the thought of Ryder maintaining custody of me. Ryder would kill me.

“Jolie!” Christa cried.

“He will never touch a hair on your head,” Rand pledged between clenched teeth and his hand tightened around the letter’s pages, as if they were Ryder’s throat.