Page 214 of Golden Queen
When I finished reading, I ripped the parchment angrily into pieces and threw it onto the desk.
"It arrived just before dinner, Sera. I would have told you right after. I didn't want you going up against my sister knowing this. I knew you would feel guilty."
"I already feel guilty," I told him in a small voice. The fear the message caused in me almost entirely obliterated the anger I felt that he didn't tell me about it right away.
It was a new kind of fear, one born of the knowledge that I could not leave him. If the letter had come a day earlier, I could have relieved some of that fear with the firm assurance that following through with the king's demands would alleviate the threat.
But knowing there was no part of me that could ever leave him sent the fear for him, the fear for our people, rocketing skyward. "How long until Atlas gets here?" I asked.
"Most likely tomorrow," he said. He pulled me toward him, settling me between his legs where he was still perched on the desk. "We have time, Sera. He won't make any move yet. Don't worry."
It was impossible not to worry, especially about my people, who it was now confirmed were being left helpless in Windemere. "Have you sent him a reply?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"Well then you have to tell him. Tell him that we are mates—that it will be confirmed soon."
He took a deep breath. "I considered it. But ultimately, I fear it would only make him move more quickly, in hopes of preventing that confirmation. He would know there is nothing he can do after it’s made official, but...I don't trust him not to want you bad enough to find a way around it."
I shook my head. "I don't understand why he even wants me at all!"
"I think Behr knows about your blood. I fear he has some misguided notion that your blood in his line will...I don't know, make him more powerful—make his dynasty more powerful."
He looked thoughtful and then added. "Orin is absolutely crawling with seers, though. It could all hinge on whatever interpretation of this prophecy they all believe—and what advantages they think he would gain by possessing the Golden Queen, the angel, the savior."
He said the last almost ruefully. I knew it was no slight against me. He was as sick of that fucking prophecy as I was.
"Well, will you at least tell your sisters?" I asked, remembering Eyildr's words. Iwasashamed of myself, horribly so.
"I told Fyr," he said, surprising me. "But I don't trust Eyildr to keep it to herself and not run to get word to Behr."
At my look of surprise, he added. "Eyildr is not cruel. She wouldn't do it to harm me. But she might do it in a misguided attempt to calm the storm."
I took a deep breath, trying to instill some hope in my fractured chest. "Well then, Atlas...tomorrow."
Thirty-Six
Atlas was a giant.
As we entered the forge for the third, and hopefully final time, I saw him towering over the other smiths and armorers. He was leaning over an anvil, lifting a huge hammer to strike against something metal.
The rippling muscles of his back stretched and bunched beneath a sweat-soaked red shirt as his long, powerful arms raised the hammer and then struck down in a long, graceful blow.
The ringing sound of the metal filled the chamber with a loudtwangas Io and I stepped inside.
I took my seat on the stool next to the anvil. The dented and marred top was still flecked with the gold plating from my cuffs.
When Atlas finally stopped hammering and turned, his face spread in a wide grin.
"Atlas," Io said, nodding.
"Big man!" Atlas replied in a deep rumble that bordered on a roar.
His skin was deep golden brown, his smile ferocious, but somehow achingly sweet. He had slightly elongated canines under dark, smoldering eyes and a heavy, fierce brow.
He stepped forward and wrapped Io in a violent hug, slapping his shoulder soundly. As the hand lay across Io's wide back, I suddenly realized how big Atlas really was. He was a veritable giant—and a really gorgeous one at that.
"This your sweet lady?" Atlas asked casually, kneeling down beside me. His long, black hair fell down his back and over his shoulders wildly. He inspected my face, then surveyed the cuffs on my wrists before looking back up at me with a heated, promising gaze.
