The Darkest Night Page 7

  “Well, that was more luck than judgement,” he said, furious with the pair of them for being so bloody irresponsible. “This is not a game, Ameena, he could be killed,” he shouted, as panic stole over him at the idea. He was not going back to Alfheim with the news that Claudette’s brother was dead. Not happening.

  Ameena’s eyes grew a little stormy now, her face rather less sympathetic than before. “Look, you said the men who came after you were all killed,” she said, sounding impatient now. “So as far as anyone knows, they have him; it will be a while before they realise something is wrong, surely?”

  “Unless they sent more than one team!” He glared at her, seeing his own concern reflected back to him now.

  “Oh,” she said, paling a little.

  “Oh,” he mocked, still furious with them both.

  “Well, anyway.” She shrugged at him, as if it were over and done with now and no harm done. “He’s fine and he brought you these.” She held up two clean pillows and Bram noticed that he had been covered up with a light quilt.

  He sighed, refusing to admit that the pillows looked heavenly. “Don’t be so bloody stupid again,” he muttered, knowing it was ungracious of him but needing them to be more serious about their own stupid lives.

  “A thank you would have been fine.” She gave him a sarcastic look, one eyebrow raised so that the little metal stud there glinted in the candle light.

  “Thank you,” he muttered, sounding like a spoilt child even to his ears as she grinned at him.

  “Come on, then, sit up.” She slid her arms behind his back and helped him sit forwards while she tucked the pillows behind him. Bram leant back with a sigh of relief as Ameena got up.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, realising that he’d rather she stayed. She was remarkably irritating, she had the worst sense of fashion he’d ever come across, and her language often offended him, but he found he rather liked her. Sort of.

  “Be right back,” she said, sounding remarkably chirpy compared to how she’d been since he’d crashed into her life.

  Bram closed his eyes and tried to quell the nausea that rolled over him from the pain in his shoulder. It throbbed and burned and the flesh felt drawn too tight. He threw the covers off, letting the cool air at his skin and leaning his head back against the wall. Gods, but he needed to get over this. Despite his words to Ameena, he doubted there had been more than the men he’d encountered, but more would come sooner or later and he couldn’t defend them like this. They could not stay here indefinitely.

  ***

  Ameena came back into the room and nearly dropped the bowl of soup she was carrying. She really wished he would cover that gorgeous body up, it made her feel uncomfortable. His eyes were closed and she just stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and trying not to drool. She’d never seen a man look like that in real life. With the exception of the bullet wound, his skin was flawless, a honey gold that might have hinted at Mediterranean blood in this world. Snapping herself out of her increasingly heated thoughts, she knelt down on the floor beside him and he opened his eyes.

  “Chicken soup,” she said, holding up the bowl with a smile as his expression lit up. “Good for what ails you,” she added, hoping that was true as he still looked ashen and dreadfully unwell. He winced as he held his arm out to take it from her and she shook her head. “Let me.”

  She smothered a grin as he grimaced with irritation. She had the feeling he hated looking this weak in front of her, more so since Jean-Pierre was around. She held the spoon to her lip testing the temperature and saw his gaze fall to her mouth. “It’s OK, I don’t have the lurgy,” she murmured, wondering if there was the slightest chance he liked her, too, and dismissing it at once. He frowned, and she realised it was a slang word he would not understand. “You won’t catch anything,” she said, to translate for him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I was not concerned,” he said, still staring at her in a way that made her self-conscious. She’d only been able to wash in water from a basin and her hair was dirty. From the results of looking in the little hand mirror she had, she knew she wasn’t looking her best, to say the least. Judging on how Bram looked, she could only imagine what the women of his world looked like. Not like her. That much she’d put money on. Not that she cared.

  She fed him the spoonful. “Good?”

  He nodded and so she continued to feed him. Ameena could feel his dark eyes on her, scrutinising her, and kept her own eyes down, fighting the urge to blush and concentrating on the bowl and his mouth. She swallowed nervously as the silence seemed to stretch on between them.

  “Why is your hair blue?” he asked out of nowhere, gesturing to the blue dye in her fringe. From the curious look in his eyes, she couldn’t tell if he liked it or not, but she had her suspicions. Irritation prickled a little.

  Ameena shrugged, not looking at him. “Red didn’t suite me,” she replied, not bothering to tell him she changed it often. It had been purple the week before she’d begun this little adventure.

  One eyebrow quirked but he said nothing, and she fed him another mouthful, wishing he’d stop scrutinising her so. “Why do you have that ring in your nose and the metal thing in your eyebrow?” he asked next, still staring as she started to feel a little defiant. What was it to him, anyway?

  “I like them,” she replied, her voice a tad harder now, a warning note behind the words he’d do well to note.

  He frowned at her, his face perplexed. “I don’t.”

  Ameena sucked in a breath. “I’m devastated, I was so hoping to please you,” she said, her tone flat as she glared at him. Damn the man, just when she was beginning to warm to him a bit. Not that she’d believed she had a chance with him, he was obviously way out of her league, especially if he really was a lord. Even considering the idea that he would look in her direction was ludicrous. But still, his words hurt for no reason she could fathom. It had been a long time since anyone had hurt her. She simply wouldn’t give them the chance. Not anymore.

  That trick with the plant, though, the way the magic had felt like it had slid over her skin, it had been, well … magical. Ameena had been intrigued and filled with a sense of wonder that she hadn’t experienced since she was a child. She wanted to know him better, to learn more about the strange land he came from, she wanted to spend time with him and learn everything about him. She was intrigued and drawn to him more than she cared to acknowledge. Pity he was such an arse.

  “Do your men like such things?” he asked, refusing to heed her warning tone as he pressed her further, obviously finding the idea beyond his comprehension. It wasn’t very flattering.

  “Oh for ...” She put the spoon down and gritted her teeth, exasperated. Taking a deep breath, she prayed for patience. “Some do, some don’t,” she said, her tone even, glaring at him now and daring him to push her any further on the subject. “I like them ... OK?”

  His lips pursed and he frowned again. “You are human?” he asked and she thought she saw real anxiety in his eyes, which amused her so much that she burst out laughing.

  “Of course I’m human, you bloody weirdo, what else would I be?” she shook her head, still snorting with laughter.

  He stared at her then, his brown eyes suddenly full of warmth. “That’s the first time I’ve really seen you smile,” he said, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Your whole face changes. You know, you are really very pretty.”

  Ameena’s mouth dropped open. “Jesus! Do lines like that work on your little lady elves, then?” she demanded, not quite sure why she was so outraged, but then, she’d never been good with compliments. She also had the feeling he was just being kind and didn’t really mean it. It was unlikely he didn’t know she fancied him, after all. She doubted he’d ever come across a woman who didn’t.

  “It wasn’t a line.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “It was just an observation,” he muttered, sounding rather mutinous now. “Should I not comment that you are pretty?” he demanded, lookin
g increasingly perplexed. “Though in truth, you’d be a damn sight prettier if you got rid of those metal things in your face and wore something other than black. A dress perhaps?” he snorted, shaking his head.

  Ameena stared at him, open mouthed with shock. “You are so full of shit.”

  “And you have a foul mouth!” he snapped back, looking just as annoyed as she now was.

  “Fuck you!”

  One elegant eyebrow raised a little. “Were you hoping to illustrate my point?” he replied, his voice so bloody superior the urge to slap him was hard to resist.

  “Bram, can I give a piece of advice?” She didn’t wait for an answer but got to her feet, taking the empty bowl with her. “Shut the fuck up!”

  She stalked out of the room but just caught the sound of a heavy sigh and a muttered, “I can do that.”

  Chapter 6

  Claudette pulled the cape closer around her and shivered. Corin’s huge alpha wolf, Varg, leaned against her legs, big eyes looking up at her with a soulful expression as he huffed, a small, impatient noise.

  “Just a few more minutes,” she promised. The wolf laid his enormous head in her lap with a sigh. She had said that every twenty minutes for the last two hours. She returned her gaze to the white sky, searching for movement, for that tiny speck of dark against the vast emptiness above her, the little messenger that could ease the fear in her heart or shatter it into infinite pieces.

  “Still nothing?”

  She looked around to see Océane approaching across the garden, and shook her head. “No. You shouldn’t be out here, it’s cold. I promised to let you know if anything arrived.”

  Océane shrugged, her face as white with anxiety as the bleached skies overhead. “I know that, but how can I stay warm and comfortable knowing that they are outside and ... and suffering God knows what?” Claudette nodded, her eyes never leaving the bleak white over their heads. “They will be alright ... won’t they?” The fear in Océane’s voice matched her own, but she nodded.

  “Oui,” Claudette replied, her voice full of certainty. They would be alright. They had to be. Anything else was unacceptable.

  “Sometimes I wake up and feel like I’m dreaming,” Océane murmured beside her, looking up at the sky, too, searching, hoping.

  Claudette laughed and nodded. “Je sais, I feel the same, but sometimes I’m not sure if it’s the most wonderful fantasy or a terrible nightmare. Today it feels like the nightmare could win out,” she added, her voice barely a whisper now. “I never knew I could feel so terribly afraid.”

  Océane sat down beside her and took her hand, squeezing it tight. “I wouldn’t change anything, though, would you?”

  “I would save him from this war, from the torment of the land, if there was any way in my power to, but for me?” She smiled, remembering the first time she had seen Corin and he’d stolen her heart. “Non, of course not, not a thing ... except…” She hesitated, glancing at Océane and then looking away, across the gardens. There was something that she had been unable to speak to Corin about and had begun to play on her mind.

  “Except,” Océane prompted, her expression warm, inviting Claudette to confide in her.

  Claudette shook her head and Océane squeezed her hand. “Come on, we’re friends, aren’t we? What is it?”

  Claudette hesitated. With everything else going on, it hardly seemed the most pressing of troubles but … “How old are you?”

  Océane frowned, puzzled by the question. “I’m twenty-eight, twenty-nine in a few weeks, actually. Why?” She watched as Claudette bit her lip but said nothing, giving her time.

  “I’m nineteen.”

  Océane nodded, her eyes curious. “Yes, I know.”

  Claudette sighed, holding her gaze. “He wants a family.”

  “Oh, I see.” Océane nodded, and Claudette let out a breath as she realised that she really did understand. “But you’re far too young for that yet.”

  “Oui,” Claudette smiled at her, feeling an ache in her heart as she confessed. “I see the way he looks at you, though.” She placed her hand on Océane’s growing bump and smiled. “He wants it so very much, Océane.”

  The expression Océane returned left Claudette in no doubt that she wasn’t about to argue. “Yes, I think he does, too, but I’m sure he understands that it isn’t the right time for you yet. It’s not as though there is any rush. I mean, now we have gained their long lives, or at least you will when you marry him, well, there is all the time in the world. Surely he sees that?” Océane frowned, turning to look at her. “He’s not putting pressure on you, is he?”

  “Non,” Claudette exclaimed, wishing this wasn’t so difficult. “Oh no, not at all, I mean, we haven’t even discussed it, not really, but I do know how much it would mean to him. The trouble is that I’m afraid to bring it up now with everything that’s going on, but ... well, there is simply no way of saying no to Corin.” She said, seeing the amusement grow in Océane’s eyes. “I mean, I don’t want to say no!” she added, flushing and laughing at the same time. “But how do I stop getting pregnant? The one time I did try to mention it, he just said laughed and said I didn’t need to worry and then he distracted me and ...” She looked around as Océane chuckled. “He can be very distracting!” she said, sounding a little defensive. “Anyway, I am worrying. I don’t have any means to stop getting pregnant and I don’t want it, Océane, not yet!” She let out a breath and wrapped her arms about herself. The idea of holding their child in her arms was something she looked forward to, but somewhere in the future. Not yet. Please God, not yet.

  “You know the men here, they aren’t like human men,” Océane said, her voice confiding. “They can choose, whether they wish to make a child or not.”

  Claudette nodded. Corin had told her that much, but at the time he’d been angry and she’d been unable to question him further. “But is it foolproof?” she demanded, getting to the heart of what worried her. “He’s been so … distracted and …” She sighed, shaking her head. “He’s not himself, and I worry.” She shrugged, wondering if she was worrying over nothing. “I was going to ask Anaïs, but she never came back and I don’t like to ask the healers here. They are all so desperate for children, I think they would despise me.”

  Claudette watched as Océane tangled her fingers in Varg’s thick coat, and the wolf looked up at her, swiping his rough tongue over her hand.

  “I really think this is something you should speak with Corin about,” Océane said, tugging her cloak closer about her.

  Claudette snorted at the idea. “I want to, but how can I? With everything else he has on his mind at the moment?” She shook her head. “I can’t, Océane, I can’t add to his problems and …” She swallowed, knowing that this was what worried her the most. “I’m afraid he’d be disappointed in me, for not wanting it, too. I mean, I do want to ... one day, but not yet.”

  Océane pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. “Well, Dr Banerjee is still here, he might be able to help.”

  Claudette frowned, recalling the name. “The doctor that Laen brought from Paris, when Corin was sick?”

  “Yes,” Océane said, nodding as Varg nudged at her hand, seeking more attention. “He was due to retire, though he didn’t want to. He has no family and his life is his work, so he asked if he could stay and try and help the healers understand some of the human illnesses that are coming here.”

  Claudette sat up straighter, catching hold of her cloak as an icy gust of wind caught at the material. “And he’s here, now?”

  Océane nodded. “Laen brought everyone on his estate. He was worried what his father might do when he discovered he was supporting Corin. You should speak with him, I know he went back and brought a lot of supplies over with him.”

  “I will.” Claudette sighed; quite apart from her private fears, the idea of having a child while the land was at war was too terrifying, though she kept that thought to herself. She doubted it was a fact that had escaped Océane either. “Th
at would be one less thing to stress over, at least.”

  “You will speak to him, though,” Océane pressed, her face full of concern. “To Corin, I mean?”

  Claudette nodded, wishing it was that easy. “Yes, of course I will. I just can’t yet, not when he’s like he has been.” The icy breeze came again and her heart filled with fear. It was so cold, so terribly cold. “Oh, Océane, he’s suffering so much, I’m so worried.” She dashed away a tear before she could start bawling in earnest, and Océane had just put her arms around her to give her a hug when a tiny movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention.

  “Look!”

  They scanned the sky to see a bird of prey circling high overhead. It wheeled and dipped, surfing the air currents and making its way lower. Getting to their feet, they ran for the courtyard where a soldier was waiting to receive it. By the time it landed on the man’s arm, they were hanging onto each other, white-faced and terrified. They waited, seething with impatience while he scanned the message and finally smiled at them. “The battle was won with ease, my lady. The princes are both safe.”

  The two women yelped with relief, hugging each other as Océane kissed the soldier on the cheek, such was her joy and relief. He blushed scarlet and took his message away with a smile.

  “They’ll head for the capital then,” Claudette said, her happiness short-lived as she knew the greatest battle awaited them yet.

  Océane nodded, her eyes full of fear and determined hope. “Yes, but for tonight, they are safe.”

  “Oui.” Claudette forced a smile to her lips, but in truth, she felt Corin was far from safe. Remembering how he had been their last night together, her heart twisted. How much worse would it be now, being so close yet still unable to do what he needed to. She wished she could be with him now, this minute, and prayed that he would make it through. She needed to go to him with a desperation that gnawed at her heart, her soul. Staying here when he was facing such danger and torment was her own cross to bear, as she knew he wouldn’t send for her until he was sure it was safe. She had considered leaving, anyway, commanding some of the men to escort her, but if she did that, he would be angry and probably send her home again. She would have to wait, for now, at least.