Page 177 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

The sound of something hitting the ground sounds behind me, but I’m so focused on the feeling of Tor’s arms around me that I don’t bother to see what caused it, although I have a theory. Vaeril mutters something under his breath in elvish, and I don’t need to know the language to understand he’s not happy. There’s some movement around us, soft voices, and the whickering of the horses, but right now, my whole focus has narrowed to the tribesman in my arms. When Naril spoke of a slaughter at Galandell, my first fear was that Tor had been hurt. I have no idea how he got here, and I have so many questions, but every time I try to speak, my mouth dries up.

There’s a snicker, and as I lift my head, I see Naril stalking closer. “Oh, yeah, I probably should have mentioned he washere,” he drawls, and I bare my teeth at him in a snarl. This seems to take him aback, and as he glances over my shoulder, something in his expression changes. He’s still grinning, but it looks forced now, his eyes wary. “Clarissa,” he murmurs, as those gathered nearby now watch with a mixture of worried expressions. What’s happened in the last thirty seconds that’s causing them to worry? “Step away from the mountain man and go touch your mate,” Naril suggests, gesturing behind me.

Comprehension hits me, and I feel like an idiot. I’ve completely pushed the bond with Vaeril aside, focusing only on Tor. My need to make sure he was okay overrode the feelings from my other connections. They warned me that all feelings would be amplified and that we would both feel particularly territorial to start with, and I’d completely forgotten that as soon as my eyes had landed on Tor. Turning, I face my new mate, and I instantly feel awful. He’s practically shaking as he watches me with Tor, his hands balled up into firsts, and I know he’s trying really hard to battle his instincts. Now that I’m aware of it, I can feel him down the bond, how strong his need is to push Tor away from me, to hold me, to touch me. Usually, I would tell him to stop being a territorial fae, but I can see how hard he is trying for me, that he’s fighting who he is forme. How would I feel if another female touched Vaeril? Fierce, fiery rage floods my system. The onlooking speakers all take a step back, giving us more space, and I realise then that I’m snarling, and their startled, wary expressions are because of me. Breathing deeply, I straighten and take a few steps towards Vaeril, who’s watching me with an intense expression.

“He looks like he’s about to implode,” Naril helpfully notes, looking less tense now that I’m at Vaeril’s side.

Stopping in front of Vaeril, I reach up and place my hand against his cheek. His body instantly relaxes at my touch as he nuzzles his face against my hand, pulling me closer. Resting hischin on top of my head, he takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent as the tension leaves his body. I won’t admit it, but being here in his arms settles something inside me, and I wish that was enough, but I can’t deny the pull that’s calling me to Tor.

“So you finally did it then?” Tor asks lightly, as if he can hear my thoughts. Vaeril’s arms tighten around me as I glance at the tribesman. I don’t try to move away, knowing that would only escalate the situation, and instead, I rub small, soothing circles into Vaeril’s back with my hand.

“Yes, she’s mine now,” Vaeril replies, a low purring noise starting up in his chest. He’s just answering the question, confirming that we did finally seal the bond, but the way he says it makes it sound more like a challenge. Tor stiffens, and I watch as his hands clench and unclench. My heart speeds up as Vaeril shifts his weight, preparing to fight as his instincts push him to protect what is his. Vaeril promised he would try, but within the first ten minutes of being together, they are already on the verge of fighting.

Is this what it’s always going to be like? A constant battle and one-upmanship? Am I asking for too much?My thoughts spiral, falling into despair. Vaeril seems to feel my shift in mood and glances down at me, a frown pulling at his brow. Someone clears their throat, and I glance up to see Tor smiling.

“Probably a good thing I know how to share then, isn’t it?” Tor comments, shrugging his shoulders. The tension lifts, and I take a deep, relieved breath, sending Tor a grateful look.

Turning back to Vaeril, I see his apologetic expression and smile up at him. I was going to ask if he was okay now, if he had everything under control, but seeing him like this and feeling his regret through the bond, I realise he’s doing his best. I take his hand in mine as I pull away before turning to face those gathered around us. Tor is watching us with a neutral expression, and I want to speak to him, to find out how he’s feeling, but thereare far more important things to discuss. “What happened in Galandell?” Now that I know he’s safe, I fear for others. What of Eldrin and Master Ardeth? And my friends in the guard, Kaelir and Elier?

“It happened so fast,” he starts, shaking his head as he tries to put his thoughts in order. “I was in the atrium with the queen, and all of a sudden, everyone was shouting and running around. The queen seemed to be the only calm one, so I followed her to the entrance of the palace,” he recalls, and I have to push down my irrational jealousy that he was with the queen, trying to focus on the rest of his story. “That’s when I saw elves attacking the guards.”

The speakers start muttering between themselves, their expression of surprise and shock obvious. Vaeril and Naril are sharing looks of concern, but they don’t seem hugely surprised by this.

“Rebels?” Naril asks the tribesman with a look of contemplation. Recalling previous conversations with the elf, I remember mentions of rebels and problems they’d been having at the borders of Galandell. Problems the queen blames me for. Is this my fault?

“I don’t know,” Tor answers with a frown. “They were wearing palace uniforms and…they looked different, strange.” The way he says this makes me shudder, and I know the others are thinking the same thing I am.

“The forsaken?” Speaker Hawthorn queries tentatively, like he doesn’t want the answer to his question. The expressions on Naril’s and Vaeril’s faces tell me everything I need to know—they believe the forsaken were involved in this attack.

“I don’t know much about your forsaken,” Tor says, glancing over at the speaker, “but somethingotherwas happening.” His emphasis on the word ‘other’ makes me think he means something different. “I don’t think the queen realised I hadfollowed her, she was so focused on the fighting. That’s when I noticed the guards were fighting those wearing castle uniforms, some of them were even wearing guard uniforms, yet they were attacking us.” I hear his confusion as he explains, and I shudder at how close he must have been to the battle.

“Something was different about them, and when I reached the queen, I could see she was smiling.” Nausea churns my stomach. I can imagine the queen’s smirking face perfectly as her people fall and she does nothing but watch. My dislike for her morphs into hatred, bubbling hot within me. “I knew then that something was wrong,” he continues. “So I turned to leave. As I was departing, I heard her give an order to one of the guards.” He turns his attention to me now, and I know exactly what he’s going to say. “She said Clarissa was behind the attack and was a traitor to the elves. She’s to be captured and executed, and anyone who aids her in her escape will share the same fate.”

Dread fills me, and anxiety claws at my throat over how the elves are going to take this. I’ve been declared their enemy. Best case scenario, they ignore the order to try and capture me and allow me to escape, but this would only result in them sharing my demise. I could never live with that. They could detain me and send me back to the queen where I have no doubt she would kill me. Being mated to Vaeril is no longer enough protection from her. My companions would never allow them to capture me, which means we would have to fight them, which is something I don’t think I can do. They accept me for who I am here, they’ve offered me a home, and this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to a family. Having to leave all that behind…It would have been better never to have experienced it, rather than getting a taste of it just to have it torn away,I lament. I glance at Vaeril, who’s watching me with a concerned expression.No, I’m glad I got to experience this, however briefly.

Bracing myself, I turn and look at the gathered wood elves. Seeing their expressions, my stomach flips as fear, excitement, and grief wars within me. They don’t look surprised at the news, in fact they look eager. Speaker Hawthorn glances at his companions, who just nod at his silent question, and takes a step towards me. “We will help you, Clarissa. We’ve known something was wrong with the queen for a long while, this has just confirmed it for us.” His voice is strong and sure, and it breaks my heart.

Speaker Fawne takes a few delicate steps until she’s standing at Speaker Hawthorn’s side. “We will stand with you.”

Looking between them in horror, I feel bile rise in my throat as they speak. “I’m not going to fight her,” I blurt, completely aghast. “And there is no way I would put you in danger by asking that of you.” Shaking my head, I feel Vaeril squeeze my hand in support. I close my eyes and use our connection to help ground me, breathing in and out to try and stay calm. I know I’m going to have to leave, I won’t put them at risk, but I need to go somewhere while I figure out what I’m going to do next.

“That’s exactly why, Clarissa,” Speaker Hawthorn tells me, and as I open my eyes, I see he’s taken a couple of steps towards me. “You would never ask us to put ourselves at risk because of you, and that is one of the reasons we will stand with you.”

“Why?” Disbelief makes my voice high and tight, but I just don’t understand why they would do this for me. They’ve known me for a couple of days, and they would put everything they have here at risk because of me.

“You’re one of us,” Speaker Fawne declares, and she says it as if it’s the simplest answer in the world.

I continue to stare at them, my mind swirling as I try to decide how to respond. Of course I could never accept their offer, and I’m not about to declare war on the queen anyway. Searching for the Great Mother’s influence, I pray that sheguides me, that she tells me what she needs me to do, but I only feel a light tingle on my wrist. The speakers’ eyes widen as my wrist glows softly, and they mutter something that sounds like praise in elvish.

“You’re leaving us,” Speaker Hawthorn says, his words a statement, but I nod my anyway. He smiles softly at me. “I sensed that you would be leaving us, I just hadn’t realised it would be so soon,” he remarks, and I remember our conversation last night. He predicted I’d leave, and I wonder if this is a sign from the Mother and the confirmation I need that I’m doing the right thing.

“Yes. I won’t bring my conflict with the queen to you,” I insist, feeling surer now as I glance over at Vaeril, who is by my side. The corner of his lips twitches up into a smile as he squeezes my hand again. Naril nods as if he was expecting this response before walking over to inspect the horses. “I just wish I knew where to go.”

“Clarissa, there is more I have to tell you,” Tor interjects, his face somber.

Naril groans, and I echo the feeling. Can I cope with any more bad news?

Tor steps closer and takes a deep breath. “There is no easy way for me to say this, and I don’t have time to sugar-coat it,” he says, his expression sympathetic. I brace myself. “Your aunt is alive, and she wants to meet you.” That was not what I was expecting, and from the startled look on Vaeril’s face, neither was he. My aunt. How? And why is he telling me this now?

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