Page 47 of A Kiss of Embers
The man she thought might actually be her blood father out of her mother’s three concubines whispered encouraging words to Pri’s unconscious form. For all her life, she’d searched for the similarities, wanting to know who her blood father was despite loving each of them equally. But the man, Gavriel, had similar green and gold eyes to her own, and his red-black mouth often held an underlying smirk like hers did.
However, she was often left confused again when she noted Zar’s shimmery black hair and the shape of his ears. He was less likely to be her blood father, but it was a possibility all the same.
At long last, the healer approached her, wiping the blood from his hands with a white cloth. “The cut wasn’t deep,” he explained, eyes weathered with life and skin wrinkled around his mouth and forehead. “She will live, but I recommend a week’s rest to heal.”
Seraphina crossed her arms and frowned. “A week’s rest was what got us into this mess in the first place.” And then her worried gaze turned back to Pri. “Are you sure there is nothing you can do to heal her wings?”
They lay shredded and torn beneath her, a sad reminder that she would never fly again. Not unless she received the healing waters of the Glades. Unfortunately, that was out of the question.
“I’m sure.”
The healer bowed on a trembling leg and departed the separated room, leaving her with her fathers and Eben. A part of her knew she needed to choose her concubines soon and do it with a wise head about her in order to keep Pri safe and away from suspicion. But after knowing Bastien?
How could she possibly choose any other? If only he could be a choice. But it was possible she’d killed his best friend. Even if the laws allowed it, he would never accept her.
And then what of the other clans? One concubine from each clan. Even if she were allowed to choose Bastien, he would not want to be one of four concubines.
She pinched the bridge of her nose as she attempted to ward off the approaching ache. This situation was not ideal, but she knew she couldn’t leave it the way it was. Goodbye or not, she wanted to see him one last time if she would never be able to see him again. But how?
“Watch over her for me,” she said quietly to the others as she approached the tent flap leading to the exit. “I will return shortly.”
As she left the medicine tent, those within the vicinity bowed to her and watched her curiously. Like her, they each had wings, though with slightly different shades and patterns than herself. Their black hair ranged from bald to cropped short to long enough to reach past their waist. Many had black tattoos. Others wore piercings.
Her finger brushed against her left ear and felt along the four piercings in her upper ear. Bastien had said nothing of the piercings, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if he liked them.
Her bare feet padded along soft grass mixed with patches of black rock with trees sparsely spaced throughout the camp to offer shade during the hot days and the cold months. Energy coursed beneath her feet, her magic humming in tune with the lava providing heat for her people far beneath the rich soil.
She retreated to her tent, only to find the place littered with flowers and written notes from a variety of suitors. She knew each man by name, though not by temperament or heart. She didn’t know any of them like she did Bastien. She understood his heart, his thoughts, his feelings, his hopes and dreams. And in such a short time, too.
She ran her fingers along one of the thin, red petals of a crimson bloom, her thoughts returning to Pri. Would her clan truly kill her if they found out the truth? Perhaps the other clans might want to, but she truly believed her own would protect her.
Several pieces of parchment lay on one of the tables, and she picked up each and sifted through the names and signatures of each offering. Hearts were bound to break, alliances tested, and she feared outright wars if she didn’t choose correctly.
Why did such a responsibility lie on her shoulders?
And how could she achieve happiness without causing her people suffering?
Gavriel, the man she assumed might be her blood father, rapped his knuckles on the tent pole, bringing her attention to the entrance. He gazed at her with a sorrowful understanding in his eyes, and he needn’t say anything when he seemed to guess the direction of her thoughts.
When he held out his arms, she embraced him tightly, needing something to keep her together when she felt like falling apart.
“What was it like?” she sniffed but cleared her throat quickly to try to disguise her wavering emotions. “Were you ever jealous of the other concubines?”
Her father shook his head, the gold hoops in his ears clacking together with the movement. “How could I be? There were two others who could help make your mother happy, and that’s all we wanted for her.” His chest rumbled as he chuckled. “I won’t lie. There were a few fights and perhaps a couple bloodied noses… But in the end, we were all a happy family.”
“Even when children came along?”
“Especially then.”
She paused and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “And what if there is one man I want more than the others? And what if that man can only accept a monogamous marriage?”
Gavriel stiffened, and she glanced up to find his eyes darkened with anger. “You’re not talking about Zephyr.”
“No, no, no. I have a particular punishment in mind for what they did to me.” She shook her head and dropped her arms, stepping away to stack the flowers in a pile. She would choose none of these men as her concubines. But she still had no idea who she might choose in the end. “He’s a…Forest Fae.”
Her father’s gaze darkened further as he pulled the leather flap shut between them and their clan. “You don’t mean…”
“I do.” She tossed another bouquet into the pile as she firmed her resolve and turned back to her father. “I am going to unite us with the Forest Fae, ending the wars once and for all.”
