Page 182 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

I don’t give him the chance to respond. I simply tilt up my chin so our mouths meet, and with a deep groan, he kisses me back. I’m aware of Vaeril and Naril standing nearby, but right now, I don’t care. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s passionate and full of pent-up emotions. We had been in such a hurry to leave the wood elves and shocked with the news Tor had brought with him that I hadn’t had the chance to greet him like I should have.

I pull away from the kiss, unable to hide my smile, and go to step away, except Tor is blocking my path with a cocky expression still on his face. “If you’re going to kiss me like that, I’ll let you shout at me any day,” he teases, and I roll my eyes at him, pushing at his chest to make him to move, which he does.Stepping past him, I glance over at Vaeril and Naril, finding them standing by their horses not too far away, chatting with their backs to us. Vaeril looks calm, but I can see the tension in his shoulders and feel his unhappiness down the bond. Taking a deep breath, I go to walk over to him when a strange feeling flows over me.

“Clarissa?” Vaeril calls, turning towards me, obviously feeling something through the bond.

“Something is coming,” I whisper, dread lining my stomach. Tor’s face changes instantly as he starts to head in my direction. Vaeril and Naril are already moving with their superhuman speed as a massive surge of magic rolls over us.

Like a tidal wave, the three of them are washed away from me by an invisible force, being pushed back. As they try to rush forward, they crash into a barrier that’s separating them from me.

“Clarissa!” Tor shouts, banging his fists against the invisible wall, his face twisting with rage. Vaeril looks pale as his hands glow green, his own magic trying to counter whatever is keeping us apart.

Another wave of magic makes its way towards me, so I turn from my friends to face it. I won’t let it take me down while my back is turned. I want to see my enemy. Except the magic doesn’t overwhelm me or take me down, it embraces me and feels…familiar.

A set of footsteps sounds through the woods, and I lift my head to see who’s approaching. My eyes widen when I see the familiar figure.

“Grayson?”

“Grayson?” I repeat with disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest as the person steps through the trees.

Except it can’t be him, can it? I’ve not seen the high mage since before I escaped Arhaven. He’d left with the other high mages to complete some mysterious task, and he promised to return, except the king forced my hand when he tried to kill my friend. I had to openly defy him, pushing forward Vaeril’s and my escape plans. I don’t regret my actions, I saved my friend, but I do regret not being able to say goodbye or explain what happened to Grayson.

The magic that fills the space around us does feel familiar, but it’s much stronger than I’m used to feeling from him. He pauses in the shade of one of the large trees, watching me, and there’s a wariness about him that makes me unsure. Closing my eyes, I reach out with my senses, touching his magic. It instantly responds to mine, caressing me like a lover. ThisisGrayson’s power, just fully unleashed, the full strength of a high mage. He was really holding himself back at Arhaven.

He gasps as I open my eyes, pulling away from his magic. “It reallyisyou,” he exclaims, his voice tight with emotion as he steps out from the shadow of the tree and hurries towards me. Seeing him like that breaks something inside me, and a sob escapes me as I take a step forward to meet him, our bodies colliding with an ‘oomph.’ We wrap our arms around each other, and I simply breathe in his scent, not quite realising how much I missed him until he’s here in my arms.

“I’ve been searching for you,” he mutters into my hair, his body pressed tightly against mine. “I can’t quite believe I’ve found you.”

His words make the bond inside me glow, and I feel complete with the three of them here. Grayson has always held a special place in my heart, and not knowing where he’s been or if he’s been safe has haunted me. “I…” I trail off, not knowing how to put my feelings into words. All of my words seem too trivial to explain how I’m feeling, and I don’t want to spoil or take away from this moment. I just want to soak up his presence.

“I know,” he whispers, and for that minute, I can pretend that we are just a normal couple. That I was never a slave and am not goddess blessed and heading into a war. That I’m not bonded to three different men from different races and that there isn’t a great evil about to envelop us all. I can almost see the life we would’ve had. Grayson would have been a court magician, and we would have had a small house in the city with a couple of kids. A peaceful happy life. But then I never would have met Tor or Vaeril, or Naril and Eldrin, let alone any of the other elves who have become my friends.

With a sigh, I slowly pull away from Grayson’s hold. Taking a small step back, he keeps his hands on my shoulders as he looks over me while I do exactly the same to him. He looks older, stress making a few fine lines appear on his face, and I’m sure I spot a few wispy grey hairs in his dark locks. He’s wearingthe magicians’ usual dark blue tunic with golden buttons and epaulettes to show he has the status of a high mage. A large, dark blue cape covers most of his clothing, a golden fastening at the neck the only embellishment. He’s tall, like the others, but he seems…bigger, and I realise it’s because of his magic. He’s also carrying himself differently. People always showed him respect before, but I couldn’t sense his magic then. Now, it’s practically flowing out of him.

“You look different,” he finally says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me raise my eyebrow, like he can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. “You look good,” he assures me, only to frown. “But you look like them.” The atmosphere changes as he dips his head, gesturing behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know he’s talking about the elves. I’m wearing elvish clothing and have been styling my hair in the same fashions they do, but I feel like he’s talking about more than just my attire.

He doesn’t know I’m part elf,I realise, feeling sick. Grayson’s hatred for elves is deep-seated and isn’t going to be easy to change.

Grayson pulls his hands away and shifts his weight, glaring at the three males behind the magical barrier. Taking a step to the side, I angle myself so I can see all of them. Tor seems to have relaxed a little at seeing the mage. The two of them met back in Arhaven, but he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice, his eyes flicking from the mage to me, and back again. When I glance over at the elves, I’m surprised by what I see. Vaeril still has his glowing hands pressed against the barrier, snarling as he narrows his eyes on the mage. This doesn’t surprise me, but Naril does. The elf is crouched and looks ready to pounce, his lips pulled back over his teeth, exposing his sharp incisors as he snarls at Grayson. I’ve never seen Naril act like this before, he’s always been the calmer of my companions, perpetually ready with a snarky comment. The presence of a magician must besetting off his fae instincts. I won’t flatter myself to think that he’s acting like this out of some need to protect me.

Sidestepping, Grayson closes the gap between us, holding his hand out to me while never taking his eyes off the elves behind the barrier. “Clarissa, we need to go,” he urges in a low, unhurried voice.

“What?” Frowning, I look up at him in confusion, convinced I’ve heard him wrong. He wants me to leave with him?

“My magic will hold them for a while, but they’re fast,” he explains, and my stomach sinks. “We need to go now if we want to get a head start on them,” he continues, and I gape at him in horror. He’s still looking away, so he can’t see my distress, but I know what’s about to happen. He’s going to make me choose, and when he finds out what’s happened, about who I am, he’s going to hate me.

His outstretched hand hangs between us, and he finally realises I haven’t taken it. Turning from the elves, he looks at me with a frown, like he can’t understand why I’m holding us up. He’s my knight in shining armour coming to my rescue yet again, but I’m stalling.

“Why would I want to get away from them, they’re my…friends.” I stumble over the word ‘friends,’ but I try to keep my voice light, attempting to make him understand without saying it directly. He’ll work it out soon, he’ll see that the bond between Vaeril and me is stronger than friendship.

Pulling his hand back, he shakes his head, and his expression hardens. “The elf kidnapped you,” he argues, like I’ve been so traumatised by said kidnapping that I don’t understand what’s happened to me. “He forced you to break the spell on his cuffs, and he kidnapped you,” Grayson reiterates, telling me his version of my escape, his voice getting more forceful, as if he’s trying to convince himself too. “The tribesman was working with him and created a diversion so the elf could get away, taking youas his prisoner.” Taking a deep breath, he looks from me to Tor before rubbing his eyes.

“As soon as I heard about that night, I left the guild and I’ve been trying to find you.” He opens his eyes, turning to face me again. He scans my face, as if he’s looking for something. “I know what the king is saying is a lie. I know you didn’t kill those people.” He lowers his voice as he speaks as if trying to reassure me.

A flash of alarm jolts through me at his words. Stepping forward, I place a hand on his wrist. “Kill? What do you mean?” I feel sick as my mind starts spinning, imagining the worst. The Mother’s vision flashes into my mind of the mass graves the slaves were digging while the king and Jacob watched over them.

“A lot of people died when you escaped, and a lot of people just simply disappeared.” His voice is soft, like he can sense how sick his words are making me. “There have been more disappearances in the city, and the king is blaming you.” Dark eyes flit over my face as he speaks, trying to judge my reaction, but I have no words. Am I surprised that the king is blaming me? No, he was looking for a scapegoat, and I was the perfect target. I messed up his plans when I refused to let him kill Aileen, then I took one of his greatest assets, causing a whole load of chaos in my wake as we escaped. That doesn’t take away the pain the accusations cause though, or the slight wariness in Grayson’s eyes as he explains.

Taking a deep breath, he scrubs a hand over his face, his expression turning serious. “The magicians have pulled away from Arhaven. We can’t follow a king that was killing so many of his subjects.”

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