Unforgettable Lover (5 page)

“I’m sorry, Maman. I’ll try harder. I promise.” Leonna’s need to please her mother trumped her other desires. She’d do what was necessary to help her parents, even if it meant giving up her passion.

Other patrons passed by their cart, but didn’t stop. The waiting was the worst part. Leonna pictured herself sitting in front of her easel, her crushed berry paint at her side. She often made her own, searching out the best plants and berries to blend into the perfect colors. A dab of glue and the mixture reached the consistency needed for painting. She swayed to and fro, letting the euphoria take over her body like it did when she painted.

Papa walked up to the cart with a heavy bag draped over his shoulder. He placed the rough woven bag at Leonna’s feet. “Well, here’s the last haul for today. Would you be a dear and unload that for me?” He tugged at the brim of his hat. The hand-sewn letter ‘T’ emblazoned on the front caught her attention. The symbol was a testament to Lemuria and life everlasting. 

Corbin strode up behind their father, along with his best friend, Blaine, who seemed a bit nervous. He glanced at her, bit his lip, and looked away.

Corbin wore his military training pants and shirt, both a deep, rich blue. He strutted in front of her, his head held high. “I won my first competition today. Short sword on the straw dummy, cut him right in half.”

Papa chuckled. “That’s my son.” Pride radiated from his smile, as if Corbin were the best warrior in the Keep.

Leonna untied the knot surrounding the canvas bag, pulling a bit rougher than necessary on the long cord. The best warrior was the prince. Ruthless and cunning, he’d earned the reputation as the most lethal warrior. Although none knew him well, he was trusted by his fellow warriors on the battlefield. His nickname—Lone Beast or Heartbreaker. Yeah, she could attest to that one. 

Memories of their evening together raced through her mind. Her skin warmed and her scent of honey permeated the air. Good thing her perfume blended in so well with their business. She couldn’t believe she’d rutted with the prince. She’d never forget him, not the way he touched her, or looked at her, or how he moved in concert with her own body.

Blaine stood close by, his gaze focused on two males that leaned against the nearby flower vendor’s cart. He seemed nervous, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Blaine, come, let’s bring Leonna in on the decision.” Papa sighed, looking old and frail.

Corbin’s smirk sent warning bells off in her mind, and the rope fell from her fingers. She glared at her father. “What decision?”

Papa pushed Blaine toward her. He stumbled, but caught himself on the edge of the cart. Staring at her from across the tabletop, he raised his chin, as if trying for a modicum of pride. “You and I…we…are
qithan
—intended for one another.” 

Her mind fogged. A shot of adrenaline coursed through her veins. Blood pounded so hard, she could hear it pumping in her ears. “Wh…what did you say?” 

“We. Are. Qithan.” 

She refused to believe it. To become qithan was a promise to bond. Often males and females decided together to become qithan, but it wasn’t unheard of for families to unite a couple to benefit the greater good of the Keep or the families themselves. 

A sense of betrayal stuck in her throat. Her father had made this decision for her without saying a word. Breathing became difficult. She glanced at him, her heart aching from the deceit. He nodded. Determination lined the creases around his eyes. 

“Congratulations, sis.” Corbin rounded the corner of the cart and gave her a crushing hug. 

She didn’t know what to say. This was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t love Blaine or even know him all that well. A thought crossed her mind that maybe he’d been forced into this arrangement, too. 

She studied her qithan. His brown hair hung loose around his shoulders. Blue eyes the color of the rarest sunstone set her on edge. His firm lips were pursed, as if he didn’t like her scrutiny. He dressed like the merchant class, his thin frame poking out from behind his tight-fitting shirt. Her qithan was nothing like Prince Nicholai. She shook her head. Why was she comparing Blaine to a male she could never have?

“Come, daughter, let him give you a token, his promise to bond.” Her father placed his hands on her shoulders. He guided her around the cart, her feet moving without conscious thought.

She swallowed, which only resulted in a coughing fit. As her lungs wracked her body, she wished her soul could escape along with the air.

“He’ll be a good mate, I promise. He’ll help you run the cart. He’s organized, never languishes in his duties, and never forgets.” Her father listed off all the traits she lacked. 

She wanted to crawl into a hole.

Blaine took her hands and held them in his own. His weak grip made her cringe. A male should hold her firm, with confidence—just like Nicholai did last night. Her chest constricted. She had no chance with the royal heir and needed to forget him.

“Leonna,” Blaine’s voice quivered, “I offer myself to you as your bonded mate. As my gift, I give you this bracelet.” He held on to both of her hands with one of his. With the other, he dug into a pocket on the side of his workday pants. In his palm, a gold chain-link bracelet sparkled in the light. “Will you accept this—accept me?”

She couldn’t speak. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She glanced at Papa. His pale face and tired eyes bore down on her. A quick peek at her maman with her hunched shoulders made a lump form in Leonna’s throat. Her feeble parents couldn’t continue to run the cart. With her brother training to become a warrior, that left her to take care of the business. Her family needed the work in order to survive and do their part in running the Keep. Despite her dream to paint, she couldn’t let them down. They needed her.

She bit her lip, raised her chin and looked into Blaine’s eyes. With as much courage as she could muster, she gave him her answer. “Yes, Blaine, I will become your mate.” A heavy weight bore down on her soul. 

Her father clapped his hands. “I already checked the council’s schedule. We can get on the docket for the bonding ceremony by the end of next week.” 

Blaine wrapped the gold chain around her left wrist and secured the clasp. The small jewelry might as well have been a ball and chain. She closed her eyes, but couldn’t stop the lone tear as it ran down her cheek.

Chapter Eight

Nicholai rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Even the softness of his mattress and the smooth pillowcase against his head couldn’t chase away his memories of last night and the Betram ritual. His thoughts volleyed between the strong, vivacious female he’d coupled with and his fear of losing Gaetan. Both vied for his attention in an internal battle of supremacy. Neither won.

He threw the sheets off and sat up. The sunstones embedded in the walls flared to light at his movement. His internal clock indicated that it was almost nightfall. He’d slept restlessly through most of the day, half-in, half-out of consciousness and dreamland, or maybe nightmare-land. With a loud exhale, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

After returning from the forest with Riktar and Gaetan, Nicholai stayed with his friend in the infirmary, helping out as best he could. Gaetan would survive, but he’d need to rest for a few days. 

Nicholai inhaled, but his lungs wouldn’t cooperate, as if a vise had gripped them tight.
I should’ve protected Gaetan. 

His mind traveled to his other distraction, one of the female variety. Even though he’d showered after returning to the Keep, the scent of honey still lingered. Against his will, his body responded. A rush of blood to his groin made him groan. As much as he tried to erase her from his mind, she was unforgettable.

After shoving himself off the bed, he opened his dresser filled with shirts, all neatly pressed and stacked. Grabbing the top one, he pulled the garment on and buttoned the fabric. Next up—black pants, boots, belt, and sword. The pants were a bit tight in the crotch. He grimaced, and adjusted himself, a bit of frustration running up his nerves.

Knock. Knock.

His scalp prickled, raising his short hairs. “Who is it?”

“Kit, I bring a message from the king.”

He tensed. His father wouldn’t send his personal attendant to deliver news unless the old male was in one of his moods. Great, just great. As he crossed the room, his boots scraped against the stone floor. The sound danced along his nerves like spikes. 

He opened the door in a rush. The smell of fear floated in on the wake of air.

The little Jixie topped out at his belt, giving him an upfront view of just what Nicholai didn’t want to show him. He could thank his honeyed female for that later, if, no when, he found her. Nicholai surreptitiously placed his hand in front of the bulge in his crotch.

The small male stared up at Nicholai, his body quivering from head to toe. “King Monroe…I mean, your father…requests your appearance in the throne room, immediately.” 

Yep, sounds like his father was not happy about something. He shook his head. Although he loved his father, very much, the constant pressure and expectations weighed heavy on their relationship. 

Kit turned to leave, but Nicholai placed his hand on the little male’s shoulder. He didn’t want to scare the high strung Jixie who’d attended to his father for hundreds of years. “Kit, wait.” 

The Jixie peeked over his shoulder then turned to face him. “Yes, Prince?”

“Why didn’t my father send a message through the sunstones?” The gems that lined the walls and ceilings of the Keep provided heat and light, but were also a means of communication.

“He did. Maybe you didn’t notice.” Kit bunched his shoulders and gave a chagrined smile.

Nicholai closed his eyes. Great. I’m late as well. “Tell him I’m on my way.”

“Of course, absolutely. Thank you, Prince Nicholai.” The small male ran down the corridor, his little feet running faster than seemed possible.

Nicholai grabbed his ring from the bedside table. As he put the jewelry on his finger, the weight of his responsibility pressed upon him. 

Heat radiated from the marking on his shoulder, the circular ring for duty. The pain was a reminder of the values born into his skin at birth. His other two swirls, the one for courage and conviction were quiet. He rubbed his shoulder. On a long sigh, he headed to the throne room to deal with his father.

*****

Nicholai stood before the king. His sire sat upon the throne, his usual attire of dark pants and a long-sleeved black shirt indicated nothing was out of the ordinary. He wore the elaborate silver crown engraved centuries ago for one of his predecessors, and the red sunstone that hung from the crest rested against his forehead. The drumming of his sunstone ring against the giant chair’s armrest was the only indication that something was amiss.

A chill started at the base of Nicholai’s neck and ran down his back, tingling his skin. He kneeled at the king’s feet. The smell of the oak from the royal throne mixed with his mother’s lavender fragrance. Her scent lingered wherever his father went, as a testament of their love. “Father. What—”

Before he could ask his question, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from behind. His gut clenched at the familiar cadence. He peered over his shoulder.
Tiernan. Perfect timing.

“Father, I came as soon as I received the message.” The king’s second son bent his head to the older male, kissing him on the forehead. As usual, Tiernan wore the elegant clothing usually reserved for special occasions. 

Nicholai groaned inside at his brother’s display of false love. Although brothers by blood, they were as unalike as any kin could be. 

“My sons.” The old male’s gaze bore into Nicholai before focusing on Tiernan. “I have the madness.”

What?
Nicholai’s mind failed to comprehend what his father had said.

“The madness? How do you know?” Tiernan’s voice held a hint of eagerness.

“Gaetan…he ran a test. Results were positive. The sunstones wouldn’t heal me. Madness is my weakness.”

“No! This isn’t fair. You’re too young.” Nicholai clenched his fist. The madness was a memory stealer, a sickness of the brain. His father would lose track of every moment in his life, every accomplishment, every event, but most of all, he’d forget his loved ones. Impossible to identify until the flaw reared its ugly head, all Stiyaha had one weakness—one that wouldn’t heal. His father’s was worse than most. Many Stiyaha lived two thousand years or more, and his father’s one thousandth birthday was a mere week away. 

The older male rose slowly to his feet. The wooden chair creaked as if it too, had old bones. “Your mother is gathering the council. I will announce my status to them when we’re through.”

“Yes, father, you are much too young, you should be with us longer.” Tiernan’s eyes gleamed and his upper lip twitched. 

A sudden coldness formed in Nicholai’s chest.
Tiernan’s happy about this.
Nicholai fought the sudden urge to pound his brother’s head against the stone floor.

“As with anyone’s flaw, I don’t know how long I have before my memory fades. Once it’s gone, my body will die as well, but my impending death isn’t the only reason I summoned you both.” Monroe’s eyes moistened as he held Nicholai’s attention. 

Nicholai’s muscles tensed. 

“What I have to tell you—,” the old male’s voice broke, “this saddens me more than you know, my son.” He placed his hand on Nicholai’s shoulder.

A lump formed in Nicholai’s gut.

“What is it, father?” Tiernan’s voice quivered with excitement.

“Nicholai, I thought you’d put your fear behind you. I anticipated you’d become the next king.” His father lowered his head and exhaled. When his gaze locked onto Nicholai’s once again, he’d steeled himself. His eyes displayed his strength as king. “Gaetan…he needed you. You failed him…and me.”

Nicholai took a step back. The truth in his father’s words was like a dagger in his heart. “I—”

The king raised his hand. “I must select the next king. I thought this would be an easy choice, but it is not.” The old leader walked to his desk where kings of the past had penned their rule.