Page 221 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Thankfully, Samson seems to know what I’m trying to say and smiles, dipping his head slightly. “I am strong in all areas, but I have also been gifted with healing magic.”

My eyes widen. “A healer.” The words come out as a whisper as I reassess the man in front of me again. I’ve never heard of a magician with healing magic before. As the protectors and warriors for the humans, their magic is primarily offensive.However, this mage practically radiates calm. If I was to have someone heal me, I would want it to be Samson.

“Yes, it’s a very rare gift, we haven’t had a healer in over a century,” Grayson adds, and I can hear the pride in his voice. From the smile the two of them share, I think they must be friends. This only helps to reassure me more that the elves will be safe with these mages.

There’s a slight tug in my chest, which alerts me to Vaeril’s confusion. Glancing at him over my shoulder, I see a tiny frown between his brow, the only outward sign of his conflicting emotions. Reaching for the bond, I try to work out why he’s feeling this way and realise he’s trying to decide something. Something suddenly changes, his face smooths out—he’s made his decision.

“The sea and wood elves have some healers, perhaps you could share your knowledge?” he offers smoothly. Pride swells in my chest as I stare at him in shock, not quite believing how far he’s come. We still have a long way to go, but this is a huge step.

Everyone is gaping at him in shock, including Naril and Eldrin, the latter of whom is looking furious, but I know he won’t say anything in front of the mages.

Samson is looking at Vaeril like he’s reassessing him, a tentative smile crossing his face. “I might just do that, thank you.” Excitement shines in his eyes at the prospect of learning healing from others. I can imagine it must be difficult being the only one with a particular skill, so learning that there are others will open up a whole new knowledge base for him.

“You’re here, good,” Merrin calls out as he enters the hall, making his way over to us. He has a smile on his face, but I can see the worry in his eyes.

Nodding my goodbye to Samson and the other mages, I meet Merrin halfway in the center of the hall.

“Are you ready?” he asks, glancing around and mentally counting off those in the room, checking everyone is in attendance. I’ve not seen him like this before. He’s always seemed so calm and sure of everything. Frowning, I reach out and touch his wrist gently to get his attention. He promptly stops gazing around and looks down at my hand, then at my worried expression. Sighing, he places his hand on top of mine, squeezing it gently. “Sorry, Clarissa. I wish I was able to go with you.”

Grayson and Ellis will be coming with me to Arhaven, but it was decided that someone should stay behind in case everything went badly and this really was a trap. As such, Pierre was remaining at the guild to protect the students, and Merrin would be taking a group of trained mages with him to the tribes to join the army. Not all of the magicians would be joining the elves and tribespeople in the foothills. It was thought best that some remained at the guild in case of an attack in the human lands. The chiefs advised the mages not to spread their numbers too thin, and thankfully, the high mages took that guidance.

Smiling at the older high mage, I hold his hand for a fraction longer before gently extracting it. He’s one of the few people outside of my mates I don’t mind sharing casual touch with, but I still have limits. “You’re needed elsewhere, I understand.”

And I do understand. I get the impression he worries I believe I’m not important enough for him to come with me to Arhaven, but that’s not the case. I know I’m putting a lot of people at risk by attending this ‘ball’ the king is throwing. If I had it my way, I would be going by myself, but of course that idea was quickly shot down. Besides, I know how important it is that the mages can join with the rest of those gathering. There was a concern that the king could be trying to get all of the magicians in one place and enact revenge on them for daring to resist his orders…Yet they still insist on sending some of their strongestmagicians to protect me,I worry internally, glancing over my shoulder at the mages who are now assembling by the door, Samson leading them.

“May the Mother watch over you, beloved,” Merrin calls to me, stirring me from my reflections. Smiling at him ruefully, I return the blessing, wishing him luck and speed on his journey.

Organising ten magicians, a high mage, my aunt, Vida, the six tribesmen, six elves, and my mates into carriages took more time than I imagined. Finally, I climb into my carriage with a sigh and drop unceremoniously into the seat with a groan, rubbing my temples with my fingers. A snort catches my attention, and I peer through my fingers to see the others hiding their smiles. Tor sits on my right and reaches out, placing his hand on my lap. On the bench opposite sits Vaeril, Naril, and Eldrin. Everyone is trying to get comfortable or looking out of the windows, except for Naril, who is watching me with a raised eyebrow.I guess I know who was snorting then,I think to myself as I turn away from the elf, knowing if he’s got something to say to me, he’ll say it.

The carriage lurches forward as the horses start moving, and I lean to the side to look out the window, wanting to get a view of the guild as we leave. Grayson is riding in front of the procession on horseback with the other mages, and I’ve become so used to having him around that I’m already missing him, my bond throbbing in my chest.

I know it probably seems daft when such a small distance separates us now, and I will be seeing him again in only a few short hours, but if anyone knows how unpredictable life is, it’s us. I’ve learned you have to take the good while you can, because it can be quickly snatched away.

I feel several sets of eyes on me as I watch the guild pass us by, but I don’t acknowledge them, my mind a mess of twistedthoughts. I’m so conflicted, not about the males riding in the carriage with me this time, but the city we are slowly making our way towards. Arhaven has never been anything but a prison to me. Even when I was blessed by the Mother and Grayson saved me from slavery, I was still unable to leave the castle. I was still a prisoner, I just had better accommodations. When I fled, I was forced to leave my friends behind, which has been a decision that has haunted me ever since, and I’m not sure what I’m going to find on my return. I know the king will have something planned for me, that much is certain, but this is a lot of effort to go through just to get revenge on one woman. The fact that he has threatened Jacob’s life makes me think hedoesactually need my help with something… Although…

Jacob is my friend, possibly my brother, and there was never any way I was going to not go once I found out he was at risk, which is exactly why the king used him as bait in the first place. There is no doubt in my mind that he would harm his own son to get to me, after all, he slaughtered his wife, my mother, in front of his whole kingdom. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick, and I have to lean back in my seat for a moment, closing my eyes as I try to calm my thoughts.

Tor makes a low, rumbling noise of discontent in his chest, his hand gripping mine, and I know he’s struggling with my feelings through the bond. Taking a deep breath, I try to rein in my emotions, pulling them back and muting them so they’re not so raw. My mates shouldn’t have to suffer too.

“No.” Vaeril’s voice is sharp from the other side of the carriage. Opening my eyes, I frown over at him in confusion. He gives me a no-nonsense look. “Don’t pull away from us.”

I’m surprised. I hadn’t realised they would be able to feel me withdrawing, but even so, I’m trying to stop them from feeling my pain. They shouldn’t have to experience that. “But—” I start, but Tor shifts on the bench and cuts me off.

“No, he’s right.” Tor gently pulls me around so I’m facing him as much as I can on the carriage benches. He sighs and runs a hand over his face, dragging across his beard as he tries to put his feelings into words. In the tribes, they are taught to resolve everything through actions, particularly through fighting, so I know Tor doesn’t always find this kind of conversation easy.

“It’s difficult sometimes, feeling what you’ve been through, knowing I wasn’t there, that I couldn’t protect you.” His admission makes my heart ache. He’s told me before he’s always felt guilty that he didn’t find me when I was taken, but hearing it again is no easier. Leaning forward, he takes both of my hands in his, his eyes intense. “But I never want you to feel like you have to hide those feelings from me. Ever.” Closing the distance between us, he presses his lips softly against mine in a gentle kiss, so at odds to his tough exterior. “Understood?” he asks against my mouth, making me smile as I nod. Smiling in return, he kisses me again and sits back on the bench, not caring about our audience. A scowl suddenly clouds his expression as a thought occurs to him. “I may just kill the king for what he’s put you through though,” he growls.

“Agreed,” Vaeril purrs, his feline eyes locked on me.

“Seconded,” Eldrin comments at the same time, not looking away from the window.

The atmosphere suddenly changes in the carriage as Naril sits up and narrows his eyes on his brother, then like an owl I saw in the woods, his head spins around and he fastens his gaze onto me. I get an uncomfortable feeling as I watch him. He’s been too quiet today. It’s like watching a viper. You know it’s going to strike, you just don’t know when.

Clearing his throat, Naril leans forward, his expression dangerously neutral. “Now that we’re on our way and you can’t escape,” he begins, tilting his head to one side. “Are you going to explain what’s going on between you and my brother?”

Mother above, I curse, eyes wide as I stare at Naril’s smug face.Of all the days he could have chosen…

Silence fills the carriage for a few seconds as we all absorb his announcement, because that’s exactly what it is. He might have phrased it like a question, but he’s worded it in a way to try and cause as much drama as possible. He could have taken me aside to quietly ask me what was going on. Instead, he waited until my mates were here and essentially publicly branded me as an adulterer. Fear and dread are at the forefront of my mind, but also anger. I’m angry at him for doing it this way. He may be trying to hurt me, but he is also hurting everyone else in the process.

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