Disclaimer: I do not own the Tairen Soul Series by Mrs. C. L. Wilson. I do own Angela anything non-canon.
Haha, yes, I finally had the courage to make my own FanFiction since that book was published in 2007. Special thanks to my friend, LadyLight0105 for that! I will not stop until it is completed. Yes, I plan on explaining everything to make this a well-rounded FanFiction. You will just have to wait and find out about Angela and the "secret weapon against sel'dor," lol! Definitely keep me posted on Feyan language and GSP errors. Questions and reviews are my motivation! Enjoy! -JHS.
Ch. VIII: Clearing the air
Angela remained tense. Not quite believing she was no longer in total darkness with the lightning flashing around her. The candlelight created a soft, flickering warm glow. Easy on her sensitive eyes.
A pair of strong arms surrounded her. A tenor voice speaking in the unfamiliar Feyan language soothing her.
It took her a long moment to realize she was sitting upright. Pressed against a warm heartbeat and a strong, solid shield of a chest. She could barely recognize the frightened noises emanating from her. Her breathing felt compromised and she was barely managing her growing panic to run.
But she could not.
Her body is too exhausted and wasted. Her stomach began to rumble and she could feel...emotions atop hers.
Worry, fear, anxiety, frustration, helplessness...barely contained fury.
But not at her. For her.
She frowned, trying to focus.
At a loss, Cyr gathered Spirit around Angela and made it where she 'heard' his heartbeat all around her.
It had an instant calming effect on her. Surprised, Angela slowed her erratic breathing. Her own heartbeat seemed to reach out and match Cyr's. Straightening, Angela stared at Cyr's worried amber gaze. Not quite recognizing him, making Cyr feel very sad and like he failed her.
"Angela, shei'tani." Cyr began, his amber eyes intent and worried. "You're safe ajiana. I promise."
The young woman continued to stare at him. Her eyes dazed and very confused. Her mind scattered. She looked around her.
They were in darkness. But, not eerily so.
No, it was a calm, safe darkness. The kind where you retreat from the world voluntarily.
Angela reached for a lock of Cyr's hair. Wrapping it around her fist. Frowning in confusion.
Cyr realized her chaotic thoughts were centering better as soon as she did so.
Ground yourself, shei'tani. He thought. I'm right here, ajiana.
He summoned a few pieces of warm bread from the picnic basket and placed it at her lips. Her hunger beat at him. She immediately bit into it and his fingers. He grimaced.
Cyr did not want to feel any of those feelings right now. He only wanted to comfort and care for her as a proper shei'tan should.
Her eyes slowly focused from their wild, frightened haze once she swallowed.
She stared at Cyr. Recognizing him.
Cyr held his breath and continued to feed Angela by coaxing her to consume more warm bread. He noticed her inflamed hand when she reached for his hair. He did not want her to injure herself further. He pursed his lips worriedly. He knew if he withdrew from her now she would not come to him. So he remained where he was. Her hand curling around a lock of his hair.
Swallowing the last of the bread and licking her lips, Angela took a slow breath.
«Air, please, Air.» Angela Spirited. Her Spirit voice choked.
Immediately, Cyr spun an Air weave like he had done before over her mouth. Angela breathed in deeply and shivered from the naturally cool Air weaves; but desperate to breathe.
After several chimes, Angela did not look so...panicked.
"Cyr...shei'tan?" She asked in a small voice.
"Aiyah." Cyr said relieved. Praise the gods. He was thrilled she called him shei'tan for the first time...but unhappy as to the desperate circumstances.
Angela nestled into him. "Thank you for coming." Angela bit her lip. "I'm sorry…" she said ashamed.
"Nei," Cyr said firmly, his amber eyes glowing. "I will not accept you apologizing for a moment of weakness." He tilted her chin toward him.
Angela gulped. "Then what would you have me do?" She challenged, embarrassed.
"Live and be unafraid." He said matter-of-factly, scowling at her. She sensed his Rage.
Frowning, she put her hand on his cheek, his intense amber eyes widening at her touch. "Why do I sense these feelings from you?" She wondered aloud. Bewildered by the intensity of his emotions.
"Because I care about your health and safety, Angela." He said impatiently. "I'm enraged you were hurt in the first place. Mistreated. No man wants his mate to ever be in danger. I want to go to Norban and torch the jaffing―."
Angela placed her cheek against his and giggled. She nuzzled his cheek, startling him into silence. She felt safer and vindicated.
She started to really laugh in relief and her heart began to hope as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled back from him and Cyr could only stare at her.
"D―don't be mad, Cyr, pl―lease." She in-between giggles, relieved and feeling very much wanted. Almost safe. "I swear―swear," She giggled again. "I'm not laughing at you." She said breathing raggedly. Her hand went to her face and Cyr saw her inflamed webbings between her fingers up close.
Those must be very painful. Cyr thought bewildered. And yet, she's laughing.
"Angela," Cyr said fast becoming irritated. "What's so funny?"
Angela sobered. "You made everything better." She said sincerely, her large grey eyes softening. "I―I was afraid I'd...get sent back to Norban." She admitted sheepishly.
Cyr gaped at her. "Why would you think that?" Cyr sputtered. He pulled from her to look her in the eye. "Angela." He said insulted. "I'd never let you return to Norban."
Angela closed her eyes and squirmed under his amber gaze and demeanor. "Because―because I just din't wantchya t'think I was some crazy Feral Spinster that you got…" She gestured with her other inflamed hand vaguely. "hoodwinked into plighting yer troth t'." She said honestly, her Norban dialect slipping. "I just din't want you to think I was this extra burden...I―I'm tryin' t' get well, I swear t' ya." She sighed, running her hand through the side of hair and flinched, scowling as she removed her hand to the other side. "I'm not tryin' t'abuse you or anythang. I know I'm strange and bizarre―even by mortal standards."
Cyr prayed for patience. His frustration increasing and he needed to calm down before he blew apart their suite. His magic gathering around him, begging to be set free. Nei. He commanded. I will not unintentionally harm kem'Angela. I have control, scorch it!
"Angela." He said tersely. "I don't think you're a burden. I'd never return you to Norban just because you were frightened of a jaffing thunderstorm." He said, his jaw clenching. "I don't like that my shei'tani is unwell." His amber eyes glowed fiercely. "You're unwell because these krekks hurt you." His arms tightened around her as he remembered something. "I don't like that you don't like Angela. I happen to like Angela. So don't you dare blame yourself for what those―those monsters did." He sighed. "What do you mean? Abuse me?" Cyr asked surprised. You don't have the strength to...even if you wanted to the shei'tanista bonding would not exist between us if that were the case.
Angela sat back absorbing what he said. Amazement crossing Cyr's senses bewildering him a little.
Sudden instinct prompted Cyr to remain still and silent when he wanted to rant.
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into Cyr's amber eyes as she straightened.
He means it. She thought. His words echoing in her mind. Especially, I like Angela. Someone liked her for her.
And that someone is a Fey Lord. That someone is the Feyreisa's secondary quintet Air master.
For the first time, Angela Felicity Michaelson, smiled in her soul. Angela had liked herself well enough in Norban. The past two years had been difficult at best. She had been forced to run, hide, and even fight to survive.
Cyr gasped as he felt something in his soul begin to shift. It was as if a small pinprick of light had invaded his aged soul. Cyr felt Angela's emotions more clearly.
We're on the right track. Cyr thought awed. It is not yet there to forming a bond...but it is the beginnings to do so. It gave him proof of his hope and he yearned for her intensely.
Angela studied Cyr's face. She leaned her cheek against his cheek.
They both trembled.
For Angela, it is the intimacy of being liked despite her frailty, her oddness, and her illegitimacy. For Cyr, his heart pounded. He knew he would have to have the patience and strength to be worthy of a shei'tani's love.
Shyly, Angela nuzzled his cheek, reminiscent of tairen exchanging scents.
"I'm not so afraid when you're with me." Angela admitted softly as she trembled.
Cyr bit his lip. Tears pricked at his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her.
"Shei'tani." He uttered with a gulp. Cyr had not cried in 475 years. Not since the Mages killed his brothers.
His heart began to feel. And he was overwhelmed. He dared not move, lest he break his vow in wanting―needing―to be closer to her.
After a moment, he pulled from her. He kissed her hand and was shocked when she pulled his face down so she could nuzzle his cheek again to remove his tears.
It's how she kisses me. Cyr realized. His heart beating fast.
He did not dare kiss her like he wanted. It is far too soon...but Cyr felt like they made it that much closer to getting intimate and knowing each other's souls.
Slowly, Angela stood and walked haphazardly into the en suite to wash her face. She took several breaths against the shock of the cold water from the decorative bowl and pitcher.
Angela wiped her brow with a soft cloth. Her stomach growled loudly.
Sighing, she walked into their room and noted Cyr had made a picnic feast for them. The drapes were open and the last few daylight rays shined through. Their room was neat and Cyr pulled her chair out.
"You haven't eaten all day, shei'tani." Cyr said.
Angela grinned at him. The thought of hearty soup and bread made her happy to have a choice. But then her smile faded, feeling her aching hands.
"Angela," Cyr said gently. "Do you want me to get Lady Marissya?" He regarded her compassionately. "You're not a burden to her, either." He knew she wanted to be independent from needing help to eat so she could feel better about herself. Angela nodded.
Cyr called the shei'dahlin. She knocked. Cyr opened the door. Bowed to the women and left. He needed to...have space and think.
The shei'dahlin entered worriedly.
"Ajiana?" Marissya asked. "How are you feeling today?"
Angela stood and winced. "Sorry," Angela said shakily.
Marrisya frowned. "What do you have to apologize for, ajiana?" She wanted to address why Angela always felt the need to apologize. It bothered her immensely.
Angela shrugged. "A lot of things," Angela muttered. She opened her inflamed hands. "I'm not tryin' to be a burden to you or Cyr. And I'm really trying to follow orders to get better...it's just today...was a bad day." She sighed. "And now...Cyr just...I feel like he doesn't like to be enclosed for very long." Angela gave Marissya a tired half-smile. "Other than seeing this new world...I love being inside. I never want to feel so exposed or unclean again…" She said looking down, ashamed.
"Kem'nessa," Marissya chastised, taking a look at Angela's hands. "I appreciate you telling me the truth." She insisted, leading Angela to a comfortable pair of chairs. "And nei, I promise you." She said meaningfully into the young woman's grey eyes. "Neither of us believes you're a burden. So teska, put it from your mind."
Angela blinked and nodded slowly. She could feel Marissya's curiosity.
I may as well continue to be so honest. She thought dryly.
"I don't like sudden movements on my left side," Angela hedged as Marissya examined her hands.
The shei'dahlin eyed Angela. "May I ask why?"
Angela gave a careless shrug. "It's from my time in the forest and having unfriendly neighbors." Angela muttered.
Marissya heard. However, she went about her task and spoke to Angela regarding a myriad of mundane things. All of which, Angela found interesting as she soaked up as much as she could regarding the Fading Lands.
Cyr ran toward the training grounds.
He is cyclones. He is wind shears. His fury knows no bounds.
Cyr slammed Air into a few dummies. Other Fey regarded him carefully. Wondering if it is the bond madness speaking.
Cyr is known to be unerringly polite...however, there was a deadly secret about Cyr.
He is difficult to read, even by Fey standards. It made him one of their deadliest Fey warriors. How else could he be the Air master in the Feyreisa's secondary quintet? The internal battle of an unpredictable element within him constantly churning violence.
He thought having a shei'tani would soothe those violent urges.
It inflamed them.
The only time he felt peace was when he slept in her arms.
Am I good enough for her truly? He wondered as he sliced with his seyani blades. His eyes were fully white. He created a 25-fold weave to protect everyone.
Cyclones, wind shears, and wind blasts burst from his body.
«Scorch those jaffing krekks!» Cyr screamed. The earth trembled under the force of his Rage.
Angela gasped. "Cyr!" She stood and wobbled. Angela would have fallen flat on her face if it were not for Marissya steadying her.
"Nei ajiana!" Marissya said. "He must manage himself!" She could manhandled Angela due to the young woman's frailty. Making Angela angry. "You must calm for him Angela," Marissya continued sternly turning the young woman to look at her true blue eyes. "Your shei'tan is managing. You're seeing why Fey warriors are feared and revered. He doesn't want to frighten you. So he leaves. Teska, Angela."
Angela sank to the floor. Her energy spent after a trying day. Marissya soothed her with her voice, hands and shei'dahlin weaves.
Angela began to calm and little-by-little so did her shei'tan. Frankly, her respect for Cyr grew.
He doesn't want to frighten you. Marissya's words echoed in her mind. She straightened.
So...Cyr needs me to get well so he's unafraid...is that what he was trying to tell me? And I missed it? Or is there something else I can do?
Marissya frowned at Angela's hands.
She should have healed completely. But it was almost as if she were absorbing Marissya's magic but...where was it going?
She brought that to Dax's attention and he could not come up with a better answer.
Cyr slowly lowered his shields, still aggressive but not nearly as dangerous as he was before.
Ravel approached Cyr. Who straightened eying his commanding officer warily.
Ravel unsheathed his seyani blades. His violet eyes steady on Cyr's amber ones. Cyr blanked his expression.
Other Fey warriors gathered around them. Buffering magic. It was time to settle things between the lu'tan and the shei'tan.
Leaping in the air, Cyr raised his seyani blades. A savage pleasure rupturing within him. He could finally give into his Rage against another. His rival for his shei'tani's affections. He could almost protest it was the bond madness speaking but he no longer cared. He wanted to destroy Norban.
This is a good enough substitute.
