Redeemed by Rubies (A Dance with Destiny Book 6) (7 page)

Jenevier was still staring into Nilakanta’s golden eyes, trying to process the true intent of his words, when Daichi wrapped his arms around her from behind.

“Careful, Naga.” Daichi kissed the top of her head. “I think he means it.”

Jenevier smiled. “Stop listening in on our private conversation, Arch.”

Daichi squeezed her a little tighter. “Then stop having it in public. Come. There is a beautiful young Emperor over there who looks as if he has lost his best friend.”

She glanced toward Yui as Daichi spoke.

“And as incredible as it would be—seeing such a
perfect
marriage come to an end…” Daichi turned her to face him. “…today is not the day.
Now
is not the time. This day is about Lala. Not Naga. Go. Kiss your husband and beg his forgiveness. The dancing will soon start.” He smiled. “And Lala has asked
me
to be her first partner.”

“You?”

Daichi nodded proudly. “I cannot wait to see how many shades of green Tenshi turns
and
that damnable River Spirit that is always hanging about.”

“His name is Duhrias.”

“I care not.” Daichi held his elbow out to her. “Come, Empress. Bless the masses with your lovely smile. Reaffirm their ridiculously worshipping adoration of you.”

Jenevier snorted out a chuckle. “What’s gotten into you, Daichi? Why so jovial?”

He glanced down at her. “I thought perhaps it was about time to stop looking so glum and cross. I will be enjoying my blessed life from now on. Perhaps
you
should give it a shot as well, Death Angel.”

Jenevier took Yui’s hand as Daichi made his way to Lala.

Yes, perhaps I will
, she thought.
Perhaps I’ll stop being so glum myself. Perhaps it is time to just be happy.

*****

“Ye look like an Angel, Lass.”

Jenevier snorted out a laugh when Vittorio bumped her with his shoulder.

“I
am
an Angel, Guardian. So… that really wasn’t a compliment.”

“Aye, hello there, fair Emperor.”

When Vittorio inclined his head toward him, Yui acquiesced.

“Why are you here, Brother?” Jenevier fixed the turned-under collar of the handsome Guardian’s shirt. “How did you come to know about the Kougai?”

“Aye, Vareilious invited me.” He smiled. “Lala is a rare lass… just like her Nan.”

“Nan?” She chuckled. “I haven’t heard
that
since I lived on Val Hal.” Jenevier furrowed her brow then. “Hey… don’t call me that. It makes me feel old.”

“Aye, ye are old, Lass.” He bumped her again. “But ye’ve aged well.”

Even Yui smiled at that comment.

“I’ll be letting ye get back tae yer party now. I just came over tae give ye a kiss.” Vittorio did so, then motioned toward Yui. “An’ tae give yer pretty wee Emperor a warning.”

“A warning?” Yui turned to face the Guardian then. “Warning concerning what?”

“Aye, concerning yer lovely wife, that’s what.”

“Me?” Jenevier furrowed her brow. “Why me? What have
I
done. I mean… lately, that is.”

Vittorio chuckled. “I heard from a good cat friend of mine…” He glanced at her sideways. “That ye visited Byzantha recently.”

Jenevier shook her head. “…No. I haven’t been there in ages.”

“Aye, is that so?”

She nodded. “It is. I mean… I never get summonsed to
that
layer.”

“True,” Vittorio said. “The cats are nae as fond of war as they are of love.”

“What makes you say I was on Byzantha, Brother?”

Vittorio shrugged his shoulders. “I heard ye went tae see Taizeen, gave yer royal kin a wee visit. Word spread quickly, Lass. Yer rare scent wafted throughoot the whole forest.”

“Is that so? Hmm… Well, it wasn’t me. I wonder who—”

“An’ as for the warning…” Vittorio cut her off as he leaned toward Yui. “She isnae allowed tae go tae Byzantha.”

Jenevier snorted. “What do you mean, not
allowed
?”

Vittorio ignored her and continued, “If Daichi or Vareilious found oot she was sneaking aboot among those cats… there’d be hell tae pay. That be the truth of it.”

“What are you—” Jenevier shoved the Guardian’s shoulder. “Hey! I do not
sneak
.”

Vittorio chuckled. “I’m just giving ye some friendly advice, Emperor. Make sure she nae goes tae Byzantha. The lass is weak tae their charms… hypnotized by their sweetly sour breath. It’s a drug tae her. She cannae deny or resist them.”

Jenevier blushed. “Well,
that
part might be true, but—”

Yui slid his hand around her waist, then suddenly jerked her against his side, cutting off her words.

“Fear not, Guardian,” Yui said softly, but sent Jenevier a sideways glance. “I will make sure she understands that particular layer is off-limits… forbidden.”

Jenevier’s mouth fell open. “Wha— Forbidd—”

Yui tightened his grip, wrapping his magical hair about her waist as well.

Vittorio chuckled. “Aye, that’s a good lad. I knew if I explained it tae ye properly, ye’d nae allow it. Glad tae see we’re on the same page, fair ninja.”

Yui smiled with only one corner of his mouth as he inclined his head toward Vittorio, but kept his firm gaze locked with Jenevier’s startled one.

When Jenevier finally sighed and rolled her eyes, Vittorio walked away… still laughing.

Chapter 6

Ashgard

(ASH-guard)

The radiant beams of the morning sun began to trickle into the room.

“When will you be returning?” Yui whispered into her ear as he pulled her against him.

Jenevier loved the feel of his sharply defined chest pressed against her back, the growing heat where their skin now touched.

“I won’t be gone long, my love. I wish to speak with the Elven King. He seems to be in-tune with things he should not be. Perhaps he knows something about the
thinning
going on with the veils. Vindicus tried to blow it off as if it were nothing… but I could see the worry in his eyes.”

“Yes.” Yui buried his nose in her curls. “If something is threatening enough to ruffle Apollyon’s feathers, then you should not take it lightly. But first…” He turned her towards him and kissed her neck. “I desire more time with my enchanting wife. Waking to your delicious scent, seeing the sunrise sparkle off your iridescent skin… Mmm… Mornings with you, are my
favorite
.”

Jenevier smiled… just before she slowly melted under his worshipping touch.

*****

Nilakanta snorted.
Why did you have to bring the bug along?

“Taka would have cried incessantly, had I not.”

Then let him cry. You spoil the disgusting little thing.

Jenevier smiled as she inhaled deeply. “Ahhh… Smell that, Brother? Home—
my
Ashgard.”

Home?
Nilakanta landed in a large field bordering the vast Mangladune Forest.
You haven’t been here in decades, Naga. This is not your home.

“Ahh, but you never forget the place you came from… especially the
smell
of it. With but the first whiff, my mind was flooded with the past. At the core of me... I am an Ashgardian.”

Nilakanta chuckled.
At the core of you… you are too many things to ever be labeled properly. Go, Little Fire. Find your old friends. I will patiently await your return. Oh, and make sure the bug goes with you. If you leave him here, I cannot guarantee his condition upon your return.

Jenevier only giggled to herself as she slipped within the dense forest. Taka twittered a bit, looking back at the noble sapphire Dragon, but soon quieted upon her shoulder.

“You know he didn’t mean it, Taka. He was only teasing you.”

The Dragon Pixie purred against her neck, and then his tiny head shot up at attention, as if he had heard something odd.

“What is it, boy? Can you already sense the Elves?”

Taka remained perched on her shoulder, frozen in an almost
pointing
stance, before suddenly flying off to her left… disappearing within the trees. Jenevier followed him.

She could smell the man long before she could see or hear him. He was definitely an Elf, but something was
off
. His scent was a bit… tainted.

“What is that?” she whispered. “Where have I caught that particular aroma before?” She carefully tasted the air. “…No. This seems to be… a
unique
creature.” She smiled. “How very curious.”

When Jenevier neared the solitary little home, the smell of burning coals all but drowned out the peculiar scent of the man. He was large, a good foot and a half taller than she was… maybe more.

Taka flew back to her, hiding within her curls as she knelt beside a tree, spying on the strange man.

“Did you catch that scent, little one?” she barely whispered. “Strange, isn’t it? I thought he was an Elf. But with all that black hair—there’s no way.”

Taka twittered, peeked around the side of her neck, then ducked back within her hair.

“Spooked ya, huh?” She glanced back toward the man’s broad shoulders. “Something about him spooks me, too.”

Jenevier stayed hunkered down as she made her way from tree to tree, nearing the back of the small house.

“This is an Elf’s home. That’s for sure. See how it seems to be literally
pulled
from out of the tree trunk?” She pointed as she spoke. “That’s how they do it, Taka. They sing their houses right out of the trees. It’s amazing. Wait until you see Jezreel’s. You won’t be able to believe it. They sang a
whole
castle
into existence. The forest wove every single room, lulled by their magical Elvish tune.”

Jenevier quickly stood when she heard a familiar sound—thomp… thomp. She listened closer. Over the gentle popping of the small cook fire, she could make out the unmistakable sound of a bow being pulled taught… then released—thomp. She quietly flew up to the rooftop and sat cross-legged, watching the giant raven-haired archer put yet another arrow in the very center of a battered old stump.

As the man drew his bow back once more, Taka wrapped his tail around Jenevier’s neck and began to purr, ever so softly. At the gentle, barely audible noise, the archer spun and released in her direction. Jenevier reflexively snatched the arrow, stopping it only a breath from her right eye. She glanced back down at the man as she lowered the expertly crafted projectile. He had already notched his next arrow, releasing before she could even speak. It made a hollow, pinging sound when it bounced off of her wing. She slowly lowered her diamond shield.

“Are you quite finished?”

Already notched and ready, the man released the third arrow. It made that familiar
thomping
sound when it penetrated the tree behind his home. He stared at the place she had only just been sitting.

When Jenevier lightly tapped him on the shoulder, the man spun to face her as he reached for his fourth arrow.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she tsked, holding up the entire contents of his now empty quiver. “I’ll just hang on to these for a bit. That okay with you?”

The man growled as he lunged for her. Jenevier flew up to the nearest limb and perched there, looking down at the imposing, angry man.

“Jeez… you didn’t even let me introduce myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Rather poor manners, I should say. Not much for entertaining, are you?”

“What do you want?” he growled through gritted teeth.

“I only wanted to say, hello.” She wiggled her fingers down at him and smiled. “I’m not much on strangers. I like to make them friends as soon as possible. And to be completely honest… you smell funny—different from any other creature I’ve crossed paths with before.”

“I am not a creature!”

Jenevier tilted her head to the side. “We are all Father’s creatures. Every living, breathing thing is a
creature
. We just don’t all have the same form. Father likes variety.”

“What are you babbling on about?”

“I’m not babbling. I’m talking.” She raised a single brow. “What? You don’t like to talk?”

“No,” he spat. “And I don’t like being gawked at, either. Get on your way and leave me be. You’re not welcome here.”

“Wow.” Jenevier snickered softly. “With such a lovely personality, I am surprised you aren’t entertaining even more guests.”

“You are not a guest. You are a trifling nuisance. Be gone!”

“Trifling? Well now, that sort of hurts my feelings.”

“Come down from that limb and your feelings won’t be all I’ll hurt.”

Jenevier giggled. “Did you just threaten me?”

“No. I promised you a thrashing. And if I get my hands on you, I’ll make good on that promise.”

She glanced over the man’s broad shoulder. “I think your stew is burning. It smells scorched.”

“Well if it is, it’s
your
fault.” He turned toward the bubbling pot hanging over the little fire. “Trifling little nuisance,” he mumbled.

“Why do you limp?”

He spun back to face her, narrowing his eyes into a cold glare.

“Do you have a gimpy leg?” She tilted her head to the side. “Or did you get injured in battle?”

“I don’t have a gimpy leg!”

“So… a war wound, then?”

“No! It’s not a war wound. Now would you just go already?”

“That’s one really nasty scar on your face. Are you blind in that eye? Did it happen at the same time you hurt your leg?”

“I said, get!”

The angry man snatched up a rock and hurled it at her. Jenevier caught it, then simply let it fall from her hand to the ground.

She crossed her arms again. “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

“Nice?” He snorted. “What would
you
know about being nice? You’ve been nothing but rude since you opened your perfect little mouth.” He removed the pot from the fire and began stirring the contents. “I’m not some sideshow attraction. It’s wrong for you to talk to me like that. I am more than just this form, you know… more than just my skin.”

Jenevier bit her lip. “Apologies. I am truly sorry. I wasn’t meaning to be rude. I didn’t realize mentioning your injuries would be a hurtful thing to you.”

“They aren’t injuries.” He briefly glanced back toward her. “…I was born this way.”

“Is that so?” She flew down from the tree then, yet kept her distance. “But… I thought Elves could heal with their song. Did they not sing to you?”

“Aye, they sang to me. The whole of my childhood—they sang to me.” He snorted out a sardonic laugh. “I guess Elf magic isn’t as all-powerful as they’d like you to believe it is.”

“So… did some Elf make your home?”

When Jenevier motioned with a nod, the man glanced toward the small house.

“Nah. I did that. I built it. It ain’t much, but it’s the best I could do—harsh, gruff voice. I couldn’t sing it into being… all fancy like.”

“You
are
an Elf, then. Hmpft. I thought I smelled Elf on you.”

“Of course I’m an Elf,” he snapped. “Well… part Elf.”

“Is that so? Then, what’s your other part? Not man. You don’t smell like a man.”

“My other part is none of your business. Besides, I’m certain a perfect being—such as yourself—has never smelled the likes of the
creature
that fathered me.”

“You know…” Jenevier furrowed her brow, a bit perturbed. “For you to accuse me of judging you based on your looks… you are certainly more than happy to do the same thing concerning me.”

The man stopped eating his burnt supper and looked up at her.

“You have called me
perfect
, twice now. And you didn’t say it in a very pleasant way, either. You hate me simply because you think I’m pretty, because my wrapper is pretty.”

He snorted out his disgust before going back to eating.

“Pretty is as pretty does, right?”

“Meaning?” he grumbled.

“Meaning…” Jenevier clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. “It doesn’t matter how pretty you are on the outside, if you’re ugly on the inside, you’re ugly. Simple as that.”

The man only gave her a confused, darkened look.

Jenevier held out her right hand, palm up. “Pretty wrapper…” She did the same with her left hand. “Ugly heart…” She suddenly clapped her hands together, entwining her fingers. “…Hideous creature.”

The man only snorted again.

“If that saying is true…” Jenevier shrugged her shoulders. “Then I am neither pretty
nor
am I perfect. You judge me wrongly, Brother.”

“I am not your brother, Angel.”

“So… you know I’m an Angel.”

“With sparkly wings like that—it wasn’t a huge stretch.”

“And do you think Angels are good just because they are pretty?”

“…No,” he grumbled. “Not all of them.”

“How very true.” She half chuckled. “So… you say you haven’t been injured—that you were
born
that way.”

“Yeah. What of it?”

“I have seen many abnormalities in my day. Never have I seen a birth defect perfectly matching that left by a knife’s blade.”

“I was born this way! Are you calling me a liar?”

She shook her head. “No. Not a liar, not wholly. But you
are
withholding the truth.”

“I am not.” He sat his empty bowl down. “I truly was born this way… emerged from the womb—cut and all.”

Jenevier remained silent, watching him closely, hoping he would continue.

The man sighed. “If I tell you my story, will you be on your way?”

“Perhaps.” She sat down and leaned back against a tree. “But if you do
not
tell me your story, my curiosity will keep me coming back for many, many years.”

“Trifling nuisance,” he mumbled again, spitting into the fire. “My mother was an Elf. I don’t know what the hell my father was.”

“She
was
an Elf?”

He nodded. “She died giving birth to me. That’s how I got this.” He pointed to the long scar that stretched from the center of his left eyebrow, down the length of his face. “I was too big—hadn’t turned properly. She couldn’t push me out.”