Page 57 of Consort

Durin

Lately, my determination has been waning. After my encounter with the kelpies, I’ve not made much progress with a plan against the queen. I’ve spent too much time fixated on finding the elves. Elves have spell magic, mostly minor abilities. But the powerful ones can do incredible things. They could make the difference in a move against the castle.

They’ve created a kind of realm within the realm where they hide. It struck me that the perfect place for an entrance would be near the dark lake, where most high fae are too afraid to go. But I’ve mapped out every tree, bush, and harpy skull in the place and have seen no sign of any elves.

My idea was clearly misguided, so I’ve returned to the remote area in the forest where the elf helped me all those years ago. It’s not hidden or hard to reach. There’s nothing remarkable about the place whatsoever. And when I arrive, it looks just as it did before.

Back then, I didn’t actually find the elf; he found me. I sit against a tree and wait, hoping he will appear to me again.

I drift off for a while but wake to the same empty forest. As a last resort, I call out to him, then to anyone, hoping to be granted a conversation at least. But there’s nothing. No one.

I check all the shadows in the area, wondering if Torren hasfollowed me without my noticing, and he’s the reason the elves haven’t shown themselves. But the shadows are true, and I’m the only one here.

Feeling defeated, I wander through the trees, stalling before I head back to the castle for a meal. My thoughts turn to Rue, as they do any time my mind is quiet. It’s been weeks since I saw her, but I’m still just as drawn to her. No matter how disgusted I am with myself, a delusional part of me still believes there’s a chance with her.

The Whispering Season has begun. The yellow leaves of the fillana plants have folded up around their stalks, trapping the heat in as the temperatures begin to drop a bit. Green velvet has spread across the rocks and tree trunks, chasing the last drops of moisture in the air. I idly follow its bright path, thinking of Rue and her matching green eyes.

I realize too late that the velvet has led me all the way to our little berry bush.

I panic, terrified that Rue might see me. I need to get away before that happens. She’s had enough time to begin healing. I can’t confuse her and disrupt that.

I turn to retrace my steps, wondering how I traveled through the rugged path here without realizing it. Drawing on my training, I creep silently back into the trees, hoping my careless arrival didn’t catch Rue’s attention.

I’ve almost merged with the shadows when I hear her sweet voice. I freeze and look back, afraid that she’s discovered me. To my relief, I see only the thick wall of branches and vines shielding her home from intruders like me.

I release my trapped breath and take another cautious step away, but her soft voice drifts into my ears again. She sounds well. Safe. But the sound is muffled. I can’t make out her words.

The need to know what she’s saying overpowers me. I feel it happening, but I can’t stop myself from sneaking over andpressing my body right up against the prickly thicket.

Knowing what she says won’t change anything. It certainly won’t help things if she sees me. But the reckless part of my brain tells me I’m secure behind the wall. She’ll never know. I can listen in and then slip away before anyone finds out.

I expect to hear her speaking to her mother–some mundane conversation that will allow me to drag myself away. But I quickly realize she’s not speaking to anyone but herself, voicing her thoughts out loud.

“Is your hair blue?” she murmurs. “Or maybe it’s dark like mine. Maybe something else entirely. And your eyes… blue, too? The same green as me? Something in between?”

Her words hit me hard. She thinks I’m glamoured. That I deceived her not only with my intentions but with my appearance as well.

I want her to know the truth, to prove to her how real I am. But correcting her about my appearance won’t reveal what I’ve actually hidden from her. It also won’t help her move on. She needs to either hate me or forget me so she can move forward with her life.

“Will you come soon?” she whispers, snatching my heart right out of my chest. “I thought I needed time, but now all I can think about is holding you in my arms.”

She still wants to see me? She’s not angry anymore?

It’s terrible. But it feels wonderful to me. The part of me that’s been holding onto hope rejoices and tramples over any resolve I have left. I push through the thicket and find myself face to face with the beautiful Omega, sitting on a small bench outside of a tiny hut.

She’s leaning against the back of the bench, wide-eyed with shock at my sudden appearance. Her beauty captivates me just like it has each time I’ve seen her. But this time, it’s her hands that catch my attention. Her tunic is pulled up, and her handscradle a pale, unmistakably pregnant belly.

It’s clear now that she hadn’t been talking about me at all.

My mouth hangs open as my mind frantically works through the timing. She’s showing prominently, but she wasn’t showing at all just a few weeks ago.

How long ago was her heat? How long do shifters carry their young? Was she already carrying when we first met? Can Omegas even have a heat if they’re already pregnant?

She quickly fixes her shirt to hide the bump my eyes have been glued to. The motion makes me panic, but I can’t say why. All I know is that any mission I had before has been replaced by the overwhelming need to see her belly again. To know that I wasn’t imagining it.

But after a few moments gawking at each other in silence, I realize I’m not worried that it’s not real. I’m worried that it’s not mine.

I walk over to her and feel a stab of guilt when she tenses up. Keeping my distance would be wise, but that’s not something I can do right now. She’s right there, close enough to touch. Too beautiful to ignore. Resisting isn’t an option.

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