Page 135 of Of Realms and Chaos

“Luca would have liked this,” Damon said from my side, pulling me out of my self-centered mindset. I looked towards him, watching as he tried to school his sorrow into stoicism. In the last month, Bellamy had gone through lapses in his joy, the pain of so much loss bleeding into the moments when he so desperately wanted to be whole and happy. I saw it then in Damon’s face, too. With my mental shields down, I heard it in his mind as well. “Sorry, I should really learn to read the room.”

“You are allowed to be sad, Damon. There will be those who make you think that it is wrong, that there is a time limit on grief. Some will go so far as to convince you that you are wallowing in the loss or that every moment of heartbreak is wasted time. But I want you to hear me when I say that none of that is true. I have spent months—decades really—trying to pretend that sadness and anger and grief are weaknesses, and I lost a lot because of it. Do not let anyone convince you that feeling is wrong. Do not let them steal that from you.” Our eyes met, my gray locking on his brown, and I felt that silent understanding settle into us. Though I had only met Damon a couple of times now, I knew that, like all of Bellamy’s family, I would one day love him dearly.

“The more you love, the more you stand to lose. Come home or watch everything you love wither before you.”

Mia’s words echoed through my mind, an audible reminder of all the danger and loss that threatened to come with love. Unthinking, I stepped away from Damon, creating space between us as if that would stop me from building a relationship with him.

“Thank you, Asher. I am glad that Bellamy has you. That we all do. You will make a lovely queen one day.” He briefly rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing faintly before waving and walking towards the now-arguing males before us. Bellamy held sparkling silver garland, waving it in the air as if that would better explain whatever he wanted Henry to do. For his part, Henry looked utterly dumbfounded, but also slightly pleased with the annoyance he was able to pull from Bellamy.

I smiled as I watched, the haunting threat from Mia a foreboding sound within my mind. So too was the realization that both Henry and Damon had suggested I would one day be their queen. While I had not allowed myself time to give much thought to the possibilities my future held—if I even had one—I did think about it then.

The demons would not want me there, ruling over them. I was fae, an enemy. Not to mention that Bellamy was, too. Even if they were not aware of just how fae he was, they still saw his ears and felt his power. Hostility had met us multiple times on our journey across Eoforhild those many months ago, which meant it likely festered all throughout the realm. Why would they want me ruling over them when they did not even agree that Bellamy should?

Whether it was the direction my own thoughts had taken or the way she seemed to demand focus, I did not know, but somehow, my eyes landed on Lady Odilia Nash the moment she stepped into the training yard. Like Henry, Odilia’s tan skin was sprinkled with freckles, her vibrant orange locks floating in the breeze as she walked. Her trousers were a stunning shade of pink—soft, like a rose petal. They flared out as they cascaded down her long legs, nearly tricking the mind into thinking them a skirt. Her white top ended just above her navel, the off-shoulder sleeves twin to her pant legs in their billowing size.

She was not beautiful in the traditional sense; rather, she had a sharp and strong magnificence to her. Henry once told me that his mother had been the general of the military forces before Bellamy’s predecessor. When she was asked to become Lady of Kratos, Odilia had nearly told Adbeel no. After quite a bit of pleading on the king’s part, she said yes, but that would later put quite a bit of pressure on her future son.

In her eyes, Henry was meant to be a general, to surpass all others and exhibit the same strength and bloodlust and brilliance that she had. Despite his tendency to crack jokes and annoy everyone in the room, Henry also believed that. It would be hard not to after the training she had put him through. Like Noe’s father, Henry’s mother used brutal methods. At six years old, just days after his magic had manifested, Henry was forced to live in the woods for a week on his own. While Noe suffered at the hands of an unloving father and an absent mother, Henry was loved deeply by both of his parents. Though I would not pretend like I understood his mother’s methods, and apparently his father was not a fan of them either, I did recognize the love she held in those green eyes as she caught sight of her son.

Every instinct told me that I should try to avoid speaking to her, so much so that I quickly slammed the golden bars of my mental shield, locking the gate. Risking her feeling me in her mind was not an option if I was going to somehow escape her attention. Silently creeping towards the mountainside entrance of the military base, I tried and failed to make myself small enough to not be seen.

Apparently, crouching down and ducking my head like a lunatic was not inconspicuous like I hoped.

“So, this is the fae princess that has left our prince smitten.” Her voice was like ice, cold and unforgiving, though bits of Henry’s mocking tone slipped in there as well.

I stood up straight, turning to face her. She smiled down at me, her arms crossing over her chest. I knew that parents were meant to look and sound and act like their younglings, that nature and nurture made it so, but it still unnerved me to see those similarities. Sipho and his father had been the same way. Both times I had met Jabari, I was left smiling at the little quirks they shared, so similar it was almost eerie. Maybe the only reason I had not felt uncomfortable by them was because I secretly hoped one day I would be able to join their family, that I would have the chance to tell Jabari that I loved his son.

“Tell me, Princess Asher, what makes you so special that everyone who has met you seems unbearably charmed?” She quirked a brow, eyeing me with both taunting humor and violent suspicion. If only I could portal out of this horribly unpleasant conversation. I needed to keep one of those damn demons next to me at all times.

“I think it is my sparkling personality,” I said, unable to keep myself from emulating the putrid energy she was projecting.

Unimpressed, she let her smile stretch impossibly wider, those forest eyes somehow hardening in the process. “I think it is because you are a manipulative little beast.” The whispered insult came through clenched teeth, a defiant tilt to her jaw as she so clearly relayed her distaste for me.

“You say that like it is a bad thing.” Shrugging, I smiled back at her, unwilling to sit back and take ire from anyone. I had laid down and weathered every insult, threat, and curse my whole life. No longer. “I think you have grossly overestimated my patience, Lady Odilia. I love your son, more than I ever thought I would. He is like a brother to me, but that does not mean I will hesitate to shatter your mind where you stand.”

Seconds passed in silence, neither of us breaking eye contact or daring to speak. And then, abruptly, her stiff posture melted, comfort and ease taking over.

“Excellent. I approve then.” With a heavy smack on my shoulder and a rough shake of my body, she nodded, briefly flashing a much softer smile my way. I stared at her, not comprehending what just happened. “Anyways, I’m off to spar with my son. Do come watch if you are bored. He usually walks away bleeding.”

And then she was gone. Henry’s eyes drifted over to her as she stalked towards him, terror stretching his face. He shoved Bellamy into her path, trying to make a run for it.

His mother chuckled deeply before portaling to him, ducking her head low and shoving her shoulder into his stomach. I choked on my laughter as Odilia used her momentum to lift her son, who was at least five inches taller than her, over her shoulder and promptly throw both of their bodies backwards. Henry hit the ground first, his back audibly smacking against the rock floors. Then his mother’s body slammed into his chest, air whooshing from his mouth as he grunted in pain.

It was one of the most violent displays of affection I had ever seen.

“Gods, other moms say hello, did you know that?” Even while wheezing for air, Henry still managed to say something sarcastic.

To the surprise of no one, Bellamy made his way to my side, smiling broadly as he grabbed onto my hand. It was victory painted on his face, less for the lacing of our fingers and more for the way that Odilia was mercilessly attacking Henry. I cringed when he threw his elbow into her face, sending her head snapping back. Laughter caused blood to dribble from her mouth, and then she smashed his face down into the ground.

“They will be at it for a while. Can I show you something in the meantime?” Bellamy’s words fanned over my ear like a delicate breeze, his heat at my side a peaceful reminder of my vow to live for myself. This party, as ridiculous as it had become, was a new start. Like being reborn.

“I would love that,” I whispered, turning my head to face him. Our lips nearly touched, his head ducking down and mine tilting up.

He smirked, rubbing the tips of our noses together before backing away slightly. “You are so obsessed with me.” Swatting his arm, I tried and failed to keep the ridiculous smile from my face as he tugged me against his chest and the familiar pull of portaling stole us away in a cloud of smoke-like shadows. My eyes closed, head falling against his chest and breathing him in. “See, Princess, obsessed.”

With that, he pressed his lips to mine, and I instinctively opened for him, greedily proving the idiot right. Because I was obsessed, and I thought I might only get worse as the days went on. If, by some miracle, we had the chance to live and be together when the dust settled, then I would probably continue to grow more infatuated with him as the years passed by.

A hand on my throat and one at my hip, he slowly walked me back until my legs hit the end of a bed. His bed. Our bed?

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