Chapter 11

Lucien

I drained a third bottle of wine to steel myself against what I was about to do. It wasn't nearly as hard, as being half-led into the cave by Ianthe. At least now I was fairly certain that whichever girl was chosen would not take this as an open invitation for the months to come as the high priestess had. Even as I clamored into the clearing in the hills, I had yet to feel that hunger for power that had knocked me senseless last year.

The women that flanked each route to the cave was blinded by tradition and fanciful notions of romance only. None of them were after a high lord's throne.

This did little to tame the acid that threatened to rise up in my throat. Elain often unwilling tugged at the bond between us, but today she might as well be skipping rope with it for the many nudges and words that came across that bridge. The fairy wine was more willing to drown out reality than the thoughts that poured in.

The drum beats came louder now, and I wondered briefly if Tamlin could hear them in the manor where he hid from his duty.

I strode up the dirt path, my green tunic and leather boots forgotten back in my room. I had let my hair go unbound as I felt the raw edge of magic and power surge through my veins.

I swayed dangerously as it took hold and the faces along the path blurred. I no longer saw them, but still continued to hear them whooping in merriment.

Breaths hitched when I strayed too close and it did everything for my confidence that I could still be wanted long after Amarantha and Ianthe had taken turns disassembling me.

I had been drawn in by a tall brunette near the mouth of the cave when a different scent hit me

full force.

It was a floral perfume of warring high notes. A symphony of roses and lavender, summer rain and the cry of doves singing to my blood and screaming Hallelujah. It was the calm to my fears and the breath to my life.

I gasped at the first sight I could make out through the haze, my eyes heavy and over-burdened, drunk from both magic and wine.

The cauldron would surely damn me if I ever accepted such a gift into my life.

Elain was in the crowd. Her hair hung down in wild curls, and a floral wreath had been braided and pushed down over the crown of her head. Those curls spilled out in peaks over the sides of it, like golden waves crashing in from the sea.

Her normal attire had been deserted in favor a soft gauzy dress, the color of pink from the sunset. It hung from one shoulder, and I noticed her other side was adorned in chalk-like paint. A picture of a blossoming flower lacquered onto her flushed skin, with painted petals of white and pink drifting across the rest of her body.

I reached for her immediately and she drifted into my arms as easily as if she had been one of the petals that had been painted, carried in on a phantom wind.

I could hear her heart pounding.

"You don't need to be here," I found myself saying. "This is my duty, and I know you won't have me."

"I won't let anyone else have you," Elain cried. "I couldn't bear it."

My feet threatened to betray me. I tried to tether myself to the earth, by pushing my fingers up into those curls, lest I float away into nothing.

"This isn't the place for you," I said. The magic tried to force my hand. I couldn't select any but her, but this ritual wasn't what I had in mind when I had imagined how I would declare my love for her. I never believed she would give her love in return. I had no intention of taking it here. Not in such a small mountain. Not when she deserved the world.

"I was meant for you," she trembled decidedly. "If your place is here, in this moment, then my place is beside you. Unless..."

"Unless?" My heart couldn't withstand any doubt.

"You would turn me away?" As she breathed the last word she looked distinctly crest-fallen, until the look was replaced with surprise as I lifted her up into my arms. Her lips crashed upon mine and the crowd roared.

We entered the cave together, and became so intertwined that I could not fear us being parted, not with our souls so melded as they were.