Page 62 of The Rowan's Stone
I pivot to stand in front of my father. “Arden was raised as a witch her entire life. She knows nothing of dark elves.” Laying my hand on his sleeve, I turn him away from her. “And you can’t kill her.” Keeping my voice even, I work to control the fury running through my veins.
“I’m the king!” he roars. “I’ll damn well do as I please. Guards!”
Garrett comes running, sword in hand, when he hears my father’s shouting. When he finds me with him, he waits for a sign on what to do. I give a small shake of my head, silently telling him to stand down, and he sheathes his sword.
“Arden is on the witches’ council, and she is King Valerian’s mate. You cannot kill her without starting a war,” I state firmly. “I apologize for bringing her here. We’ll leave immediately.” Taking a step forward, I wave a hand toward the portal.
“Stop,” my father demands. I tense, waiting for his next move. “There’s something else.” He walks around Arden, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Stepping close, he holds his hand out in front of her, palm forward, and freezes. “The Fates have betrayed me again!” Enraged, he reaches out to grab Arden’s arm, but Valerian steps in front of her.
“You will not touch her,” he states, his voice hard as granite. “We’re leaving, Fallon. Now.” Shielding Arden, we start walking back to the portal with Arden in the middle.
“Fallon, you will not mate with her,” he screams. “I forbid it.”
Dread curls in my stomach. I turn to him, my mind churning with the thought of him knowing she’s my mate. “My mate?” I question him, sounding vague. “I told you she’s Valerian’s mate.”
“Don’t lie to me. I feel your essence and power mixed with hers, and I know those fate bastards have been searching for a way to get back at me.” He laughs maniacally. “Well, they’ve found it, but I will not have it. Do you hear me, Fallon? If you walk out that door with her, I’ll disown you and both of you will regret it.” His voice is determined, and from past experience, I know he’s serious. When he’s like this, he finds a way to get what he wants, even if he has to sell his soul. With his eyes narrowed on Arden, I know he’s planning something nasty for her.
My eyes drift to her, and I hate what I have to do next. I’ve been ignoring my father’s deteriorating state for a while, and it’s time to deal with it. Plus, if I don’t stay, I won’t be able to neutralize him and protect her. When she looks at me, I turn my back on her. “Valerian, get her out of here,” I command. “I’m staying. Theron, I’ll call you later.” Signaling to Garrett, I grab my father’s arm and walk him in the opposite direction of Arden.
37
ARDEN
Waking the next morning, I pull the pillow over my head, bury myself in the covers, and decide to spend the day in bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and I’m exhausted. For hours, my mind wouldn’t shut off, replaying the scenes from yesterday over and over. My dreams were filled with Fallon’s palace, his father, symbols, an old crumbling castle, and the elder. I’d hoped Fallon would text or call and explain or even call to yell, but he didn’t.
When we connected the other day, I felt the deep well of hatred he holds for dark elves. It’s a pitch-black, never-ending hole he’s worked hard to feed regularly, and after meeting his father, I know it’s because he wants Fallon’s hatred burning bright.
Everyone said the king was an asshole, but they never mentioned he’s quite mad too, as in actually crazy. It was apparent from the moment I saw his eyes. When I questioned Theron and Valerian, they were as surprised as me. He’s always been an asshole, but the last time they’d seen him, fifty years ago, he’d displayed his usual keen intelligence. Fallon never said a word to anyone about his mental decline.
Does he not realize his father is mad?
And now the crazy king knows Fallon has a mate. From the very first moment our hands touched and sparked, I’d thought it meant something, and after our deep connection the other day, I knew without a doubt. He did too, or so I thought, but now I’m worrying about his hatred of the dark elves and whether he’ll be able to overcome it and accept me. Throw his father in the mix, and it’s even worse. Mates are given to us by the Fates, but we don’t have to accept them. I shudder to think of Fallon rejecting me.
A reminder sounds on my phone, and I drag myself out from the covers to read the notification. Witches’ council meeting, three p.m.Fuck. Dropping it back on the bed, I contemplate whether to go or not. My eyes automatically drift to the MacAllister grimoire on my desk, and I know hiding isn’t even a choice. Telling their story starts today, by getting the council to acknowledge they lived.
Sending the notification to Theron, I wait for him to respond, which he does immediately, stating he’ll escort me to Witchwood. Thankfully, I have several hours until I have to get ready, and I’m going to spend them sleeping and hiding.
* * *
When I stepout of my room, Theron is waiting for me in the elevator. His eyes sweep over my face, assessing my state of mind. He must not like what he sees, because his fingers start tapping his jean-clad thigh.
Every time I see his tell, it makes me smile and feel warm and gooey inside. Leaning in close, I capture his lips with mine and kiss him until I feel the tension ease from his body. “Have you been able to locate the village where my ancestor lived?” I purposely distract him with the search, not wanting to talk about my emotional state.
His voice sounds frustrated when he answers. “She moved around quite a bit when she arrived, so it’s made it more difficult to pinpoint her final stop. I’ll find it, but it might take me a few days.”
My dreams from my nap earlier today pop into my mind. “I’ve been seeing an old stone castle in my dreams. Is there a village with one? It’s crumbling, and I don’t think it’s been used in a while.”
“Seer dreams?” he questions.
“I think so,” I answer hesitantly. “I’m not sure how to distinguish them from actual dreams, but I’ve seen a castle for a couple of days and I’ve never been to it.” Shifting the grimoire in my arms, I study the dark circles under his eyes. “I’m not the only one who isn’t getting enough sleep. We don’t have to find my ancestor today.”
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing we were so close anyway,” he says, running a hand over his face. He places a hand on my lower back to escort me out of the elevator and to his car in the garage. His eyes dart to the grimoire. “Should I be worried about fireworks today?”
“No, this should be a reasonably friendly visit,” I reply with a chuckle. “Although Meri wants you to video the reaction on Caro’s face when I show her the grimoire and prove my heritage.”
He raises one eyebrow a millimeter and gives me an incredulous look.
Laughing, I hold up a hand before he can jump into a tirade. “Caro doesn’t allow video recordings of the council meetings anyway, and honestly, she knows the MacAllisters were real because she found those documents for us. I think she’ll be shocked to see how far back their lineage goes and the sheer number of witches.”
