Fire's Embrace [Chronicles of the Shifter Directive 6] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (11 page)

Ferradul ignored the inquiry. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Trying to fix what you broke,” Ithual replied. “Are you aware that the draechen sent an envoy to London? How do you intend to keep this from them?”

Ferradul shrugged. “It really shouldn’t be that hard. There’s no way the draechen can find out about the box now that Elina is gone.”

Jazara looked a little green, and Ferradul surmised that she’d figured out he’d been the one to kill Elina. By the time this was over, it was likely that Ferradul would have to give up much, much more.

Meanwhile, Ithual scowled at Ferradul. “Well, you know what? I’m not sure if you realize this, but the situation has long ago stopped being about our conflict with the draechen. You will find the box, Ferradul. If not, we will be forced to approach the draechen and warn them. They might be our only chance.”

Jazara cleared her throat, having apparently recovered from her nausea. “And I’d like to request for your son to be present. It seems the visiting draechen prince has shown interest in him.”

“Truly?” Alwyn perked up. “But we haven’t even met…I’ve never had a suitor before. Oh, Father, is he very handsome?”

“Quite so.” Ferradul gritted his teeth and glared at Jazara. Yes, he’d known about Rachen Tersain’s attraction to Alwyn’s clone. He’d seen it back when he’d been in Draechenburg, even if at first, both of them had tried to resist it. Ferradul realized all too well it could only have one source. Once Rachen met the real Alwyn, he would undoubtedly figure out that the chemistry between him and the clone was due to the fact that Ferradul’s son was his mate. And the last thing Ferradul wanted was to hand his son over to that monster.

Nevertheless, it seemed he didn’t have much choice. If he didn’t find the box, all would be for naught. Then again, there was one last place they could try that Ferradul had avoided so far, one more attempt to make before he surrendered the battle.

“We’ll contact the middle castes,” he suggested. “The avian shifters are the one who created the box in the first places.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to help,” Jazara answered, “but go ahead. And good luck, Ferradul. You’re going to need it.”

A few days later

There was fire everywhere, all-consuming fire, destroying everything in its path. Alwyn tried to run, but wherever he stepped, the blaze seemed to get stronger. He heard screaming and saw the shadows of people succumbing to the ruthless inferno. He couldn’t reach them. He couldn’t save them.

He ran through the fire, seeking a way to escape, to help everyone. Finally, he caught sight of a man who seemed to have avoided being killed. Alwyn rushed to the man’s side, breathless, desperate to rescue the survivor. When he reached the other man, Alwyn opened his mouth, aiming to tell the man to take his hand, to let Alwyn guide him.

The stranger glanced up at him, and his eyes widened. He tried to pull away from Alwyn but didn’t get the chance. Right before Alwyn’s eyes, the blaze engulfed him. As the fire consumed him, the stranger turned into Sari. Then it morphed into Karein, Caelyn, Graham, Taryn, Hareem, even Eanera. Countless faces, countless people Alwyn knew and even cared about. And then, the figure finally turned into one person. Rachen.

Alwyn snapped out of his trance and shot into action, attempting to cast away the flames. But as he reached out to his lover, he finally realized something. He was on fire, too, but he wasn’t burning. He was the fire.

Alwyn screamed, and his eyes shot open. He struggled to run and get free, to escape the unmistakable pain and knowledge that was pursuing him. He tried to find Rachen, but Rachen wasn’t there. Rachen was dead…Oh, gods.

He was writhing so badly that he ended up falling onto the floor. Of course, he only realized that was the source of the strange, sharp pain after a few moments, during which he continued to hyperventilate. At last, his vision began to clear, and he realized he’d been having a nightmare.

Alwyn took a couple of deep breaths, struggling to calm down. He wiped his brow of sweat and got up on shaky legs. Just in time, too, because, suddenly, the door opened, and Karein walked into the room.

Ever since Rachen had left, Alwyn had been locked inside his quarters. It wasn’t exactly imprisonment. In fact, the Tersain had been more than courteous about it, surpassing any expectations he might have had, especially taking into account Eanera’s situation. Karein and Kael were the only ones who came to visit him, and Alwyn guessed the reason might be because they were black dragons and were thought to be able to absorb all types of energy. From time to time, Karein even took him on a walk, preserving the illusion that he was a guest.

Obviously, someone had heard him screaming, because this time, guards followed Karein. The dragon looked concerned and maybe a little angry. “Are you all right?” he inquired.

Alwyn nodded. “Fine, thank you. I just had a bad dream.”

With a wave, Karein dismissed the guards. Instead of following them, though, he closed the door and faced Alwyn again. “You don’t look well at all. Do you want me to get a healer?”

Alwyn appreciated the thought, but he very much doubted that a draechen doctor would be able to help him. “Thank you, but no. I’ll be fine. I just need a glass of water.”

What he needed was for Rachen to hold him. With Rachen absent, Karein was looking like an awfully good substitute, but Alwyn knew better than to go through with that impulse. Karein was nice to him because of Rachen, but he danced a thin line between his twin and his mate. Alwyn really didn’t wish that kind of situation on his worst enemy.

And yet, Karein seemed to guess his thoughts. He walked to Alwyn’s side and took his hand. “I don’t think you’re fine,” he said, squeezing his palm. “Give me a second. I’ll get someone.”

“No.” Alwyn held onto Karein’s hand tightly. “You can’t. Gods only know what will happen if someone tries to heal me.”

“That doesn’t mean we can just leave you with no support or medical assistance.”

Alwyn shook his head and continued to squeeze Karein’s hand. Suddenly, Karein released a hiss. Alwyn looked down and nearly fainted when he saw his hand was glowing slightly. Sharp talons pierced Karein’s flesh, leaving behind bloody half-moons.

As quickly as possible, Alwyn released Karein’s palm. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Let me guess,” Karein said, pressing his other hand to the wound. “You have no idea how you did that.”

Alwyn knew it sounded crazy, but he truly didn’t have any answers, beyond those dreams that made no sense. What could he tell Karein? That he’d dreamt of fire? How would that help? Likely, it was just him missing Rachen and fearing for the dragon. Alwyn simply couldn’t come up with any other explanation.

“I just don’t know what’s happening to me,” he said. “No…I think I do. The illusion we discovered is fading. I’m turning back into whatever I was before.”

“But you don’t remember what that is,” Karein answered. When Alwyn confirmed that, Karein released a heavy sigh. “Well, you’d better start remembering soon. I really dread what will happen when the illusion fades completely.”

As he spoke, he released his hold on the wound. It was still bleeding.

* * * *

London

“So you’re saying that the Imperial Consuls want to change the Directive and make an all-encompassing law to govern the magical creatures as well?” Britanni Sutharlainn arched a brow. “Why would we want that?”

“For unity and an increase in cooperation at a worldwide level,” Rachen answered. He took a sip of tea, irritated that he even had to continue this conversation. Britanni was only inquiring into it to avoid the proverbial elephant in the room, Caelyn’s survival. “But I’ll be discussing that in more detail when the Great Krites arrive.”

“We’ve received word that they will be coming today,” Britanni promised. “In fact, they should be arriving any moment now.”

Rachen certainly hoped so. He’d been forced to wait for days, and, while he was in contact with Draechenburg, he had a feeling they were hiding something from him. He wanted to go back already, because his mate needed him.

Fortunately, for once, Britanni turned out to be correct in her assessment. A few minutes into their conversation, the door of the sitting room they were in opened.
Pádraig Sutharlainn came in, followed by the Elusian High Judges…and someone else. Alwyn.

When Rachen caught sight of Alwyn’s familiar figure, he went a little dizzy and thought he might be seeing things. He blinked a couple of times, but when his vision focused again, Alwyn was still there.

“What is the meaning of this?” Rachen inquired.

Ferradul Cyraltin took one single step forward. He looked older than the last time Rachen had seen him, which was somewhat remarkable given his sprite nature. “You haven’t come here to pursue peace with us, Your Highness. You came because of Alwyn.”

The sprite in question approached Rachen, glancing at him in obvious uncertainty. He smiled tentatively and extended his hand. “My name is Alwyn Cyraltin,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness. Father told me you wanted to see me.”

Rachen looked into Alwyn’s eyes, almost dreading what he’d find there. In his heart, he had feared this moment, not knowing what he would do if it turned out to be true that there was another Alwyn out there.

He took Alwyn’s hand, noticing that it was just as soft as he remembered. And yet…there was something missing. The fire that had once made Alwyn initiate their first kiss, that had made him explode in jealous rants or moments of lustful passion, that fire wasn’t there. Physically, the two men were practically identical, but not even Rachen’s body was fooled. He missed his Alwyn so much it hurt, but meeting this one only made him ache instead of soothing him. It was like being taunted, provided with a sepia photograph when he needed the real thing.

Perhaps it was strange to think of it this way, since as things stood, it seemed his Alwyn was the one not real. And yet, for him, for his dragon, this man standing in front of him meant nothing. He was a stranger with no real connection with the beautiful mate who was waiting for Rachen back in Draechenburg.

He released Alwyn Cyraltin’s hand and shot him a neutral smile. “The honor is all mine. I must admit I didn’t know what to expect upon meeting you, but I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Alwyn looked a little puzzled. Rachen didn’t know what the young sprite had been told, but even his father seemed taken aback by Rachen’s reaction. “Alwyn, perhaps you should come with me and rest a bit. I need to have a discussion with His Highness.”

“Father, please,” Alwyn said. “I don’t need rest. I need to know what’s going on.”

“Come now,” Ferradul coaxed, his voice like honey. “These are Krite matters. You needn’t worry about them.”

“I suppose if you’re busy, I can’t intrude any longer,” Alwyn answered, his shoulders slumping.

Rachen’s Alwyn would have glared and demanded, would have refused to go. This Alwyn released a heavy sigh and relented. Without another word, he left the room.

Rachen couldn’t exactly blame him. If he wanted to be perfectly honest, the real Alwyn Cyraltin struck him as intelligent but naïve and too unaware of the complicated nature of the paranormal world. Rachen guessed that Ferradul had kept him very sheltered, which would certainly explain why he wasn’t scared of Rachen. He didn’t know enough about Rachen to be afraid. Meeting him made Rachen understand at least halfway why it had been so important for Ferradul to send someone else to Draechenburg in his son’s stead.

That didn’t mean Rachen excused Ferradul’s deeds. The real Alwyn aside, Rachen had his mate to worry about. He needed to get to the bottom of this because he had the feeling time was running out.

Once Alwyn was gone, Ferradul’s expression sobered. “Now, we’ve come here because it’s time to drop pretenses. You know about the illusion currently living in your palace under the guise of my son.”

“And you want it gone and replaced by the real deal,” one of the female Krites,
Jazara Banniear,
said.

Rachen chose not to address her statement, because it was falser than any illusion sprite could conjure. “We do know about the illusion,” he answered instead, “but we aren’t sure as to who exactly we received as our guest.”

“We aren’t talking about a
who
,” Ferradul answered, “but a
what
.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Rachen replied. “I know Alwyn, my Alwyn. He’s a good person. All this talk about him being some sort of creature…it’s insane.”

“So you’ve heard it from someone else before?” Jazara inquired, looking interested.

“How is that in any way relevant?” When Jazara just gave him an expectant glance, he decided to pick his battles and explained, “If you must know, Caelyn Sutharlainn suggested it. But I don’t believe it. I know Alwyn better than anyone. He’s my mate.”

Perhaps that wasn’t exactly the wisest thing to say, but his words didn’t shock the Krites as much as he had expected. “You’re mistaken,” a third Krite said. “Your mate is the young man you just met. The enchantment is messing with your head.”

Rachen glowered at him. “No, I’m not mistaken. My head is just fine, thank you very much. And the Alwyn Cyraltin I met today, while admittedly very attractive in his own right, isn’t the one I want. My mate is waiting for me in Draechenburg.”