Resounding Silence: Grey Wolves Series Novella #2, Page 3

  Without bothering to knock, Thalion opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. After he few moments, he followed the short hallway to the last door on the right, which was resting slightly ajar, and pushed it the rest of the way open.

  “You aren’t the one dying,” said a scratchy weak voice, “but you look like you’re on your way to the gallows.”

  Thalion shook his head at the man who had aged so much over the past year. “You speak boldly to your prince, old one.” The man lying before him didn’t look a day over fifty, but a year and a half ago, before he’d lost his mate, he hadn’t looked a day over twenty-five.

  “I speak like a man who has nothing to lose,” Reeve grumbled in response.

  “I’m sorry,” Thalion told his old friend gently. “She should not have died.”

  Reeve laughed but it was humorless. “You’ve already apologized too many times. And, yes, she should have.”

  The prince’s eyes shot up.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t say that I was glad of it.”

  “Then what are you saying?” Thalion asked, truly wanting to know what would cause a man to say such a thing about his mate.

  “Dying is a part of living. Our long lives, practically immortal, bring us more pain than any human will experience in their blink of an existence. We are not blessed. We are fools. Death is what makes life worth living. It is the knowledge that we won’t always be here to hold the one we love. There will not always be one more kiss, one more night, one more chance to tell those we love how much they mean to us. Death keeps us from becoming selfish, greedy, entitled charlatans that take everything they have for granted. It grants us peace when we lose the one who holds our heart and soul because we know we will one day follow them. Without death, we are nothing more than a spectator, always watching but never truly participating.”

  Thalion sank down into the chair beside Reeve’s bed as the weight of those words fell on him. Part of him knew his friend’s words were somewhat distorted because of the grief he was feeling, but the rest of him knew that Reeve spoke truth. Death was a luxury that didn’t come easily to the elves. Sickness wasn’t a concern for them. Most wounds that would kill a human would only slow an elf down. A fae blade could do the trick. Its powers stopped the regenerative ability that all the elves possessed. But something else was even more deadly—a broken heart. Unlike the wolves, elves didn’t die instantly when their mates passed on, at least not literally. But when one of his kind lost their mate, the grief could, and most often did, render them broken beyond repair. The remaining elf craved the companionship of his other half and couldn’t stand facing eternity without her. It was at that point that an elf would, quite literally, will themselves to die.

  Reeve let out a long sigh and then turned his dead eyes on Thalion. “Enough of my ravings. What of you? What of that cute, little fae you’ve been pining after for two centuries?”

  “You are on your way out of this life, and you want to talk about my romantic entanglements?” Thalion asked, his brow raised and a slight smile on his lips.

  “The dying get to talk about whatever in seven hells they want. Quit stalling and tell me why you have not claimed that female yet.”

  Thalion’s mouth slammed shut, and he felt his heart beating painfully in his chest. Reeve simply waited. He’d always done that—asked a question and then stared at you as though he had all the time in the world to wait for your answer. Thalion rubbed his face and leaned back in the chair before finally speaking. “I have claimed her. I have made it clear that I want to bind myself to her. But she says she can’t give herself to me completely. She can give me her love and her heart, but she cannot bind her soul to mine.” The pain those words had caused him the first time he’d heard them came back in full force. Thalion knew that monogamy among fae was rare. They were flighty, fickle, and weren’t generally nurturing or sentimental. All this, coupled with their immortality, caused the fae to be unable to commit to a monogamous relationship. That had changed completely when the Great Luna deigned to cause mating between fae and werewolves. But how would a pairing between a fae and elf even work? He had no answer to that question. He wondered if Cyn’s fae nature precluded her from having the same type of attachment to him that he had to her. Maybe it wasn’t in her genetic makeup to bind her soul to another, unless the Great Luna intervened.

  “You do not think there is one of our own kind meant for you?” Reeve asked him.

  Thalion didn’t answer right away. Not because he didn’t know the answer, but because he wanted to search inside his soul to see if somehow he’d missed something. Still, no matter how deeply he delved into himself, all he saw was her. There was no Thalion, of the elves, without Cyn, of the fae.

  “I do not exist without her,” he finally answered. “To say that Cyn is not mine would be like saying the moon could shine without the sun, or that the earth could survive without their existence.” He met the older elf’s gaze. “It just isn’t so. There is no other for me.”

  “And for her?” Reeve asked, his words bold, meant to challenge Thalion’s beliefs.

  A small smile tugged at Thalion’s lips as he thought of the woman whom he adored utterly. “No, there is no other for her besides me.” He chuckled. “None would have her, the obstinate beauty,” Thalion growled, though the fondness did not leave his voice.

  Reeve gave him a knowing smile. “You’ve no intention of letting her walk away.”

  It wasn’t a question but Thalion answered as if it were. “Every realm will crumble and cease to exist before I let that female give up on us.”

  The old man let out a contented sigh. “Now that I don’t have to worry about whether you will be okay after I’m gone, tell me about how you met her.”

  “You’ve already heard that story a hundred times,” Thalion said.

  “Actually, it’s only been 99. So let’s make it an even 100 before I leave this life and go to see my Sentara.”

  When Thalion didn’t say anything, Reeve looked over at him, his brow furrowed. “I will tell Sentara you weren’t kind to me while I was in mourning. She will haunt you for all eternity.”

  Thalion snorted. “I see you are not above ridiculous threats to get your way.”

  “Glad we’re seeing things eye to eye. Now quit boring me and tell me the story of your love.”

  The elf prince let out a resigned sigh and crossed his ankle over his knee. He leaned back and rested his clasped hands in his lap. His mind drifted back to the first time he saw Cyn, and he felt his chest tighten and his stomach drop to his toes just as it had done that day. It was a cosmic fluke they even met in the first place. But, can anything be a fluke when true love is involved?

  The elves typically did not leave their own realm. They did not meddle or get involved in the affairs of humans or other supernaturals—at least once upon a time they didn’t. But the high fae council had insisted that an elvish representative meet with a representative of the fae. This request was so unprecedented, Thalion didn’t dare send a representative. If the fae wanted elvish council, he would come himself. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust his own warriors, but a multitude of dangers might surround such a meeting. He wouldn’t blindly send one of his own into such a situation. So Thalion had gone, expecting to meet one of the high fae. Instead, it had been her—Cyn. She had been formal, aloof, cold, and utterly breathtaking. She hadn’t known, at that time, that he was the prince. She merely assumed him an elvish ambassador. And he hadn’t bothered to correct her.

  “I saw Cyn for the first time in a village in the human realm, on the continent of Europe,” Thalion began. “It was nighttime and a storm had descended suddenly. The weather seemed to pop up from the ground rather than roll across the sky. One minute things were calm, and the next the wind was raging as though it were a scorned lover and the pouring rain were her tears. I glanced up at the sky briefly, but then my attention was snatched by her presence. I could feel her.” Thalion�
�s eyes stared off, past Reeve and through the window just beyond the bed. He felt himself being pulled into the memory as the room around him and his companion faded away.

  “You are not a male,” Thalion said to the beautiful fae woman standing less than twenty paces in front of him.

  “And you’re not a strong drink or my warm bed. We all have to make sacrifices, elf.”

  Chapter 3

  “Sometimes I wonder if memories are a blessing or a curse. They can cause such joy, but they can also cause your heart to be ripped out repeatedly.” ~ Cyn

  Cyn felt her eyes begin to lose focus as her mind slipped back to a time many, many years ago—a time when no fae would ever dream of being mated to a werewolf. “The storm came out of nowhere.” Cyn continued as Peri listened intently. “One second, the sky was clear, and then the next second clouds were rolling in like waves upon the tide. The heavens opened, and it felt as though the tears of thousands of angels fell to earth.”

  “At some point we are going to get to the part where you actually meet him, right?” Peri asked deadpan. “Are you just building suspense, because you don’t have to do that on my account. Get right to the steamy stuff. I’m a busy fae.”

  Cyn stared back at the high fae, patiently waiting for her to be done.

  “I hate it when you do that,” Peri grumbled.

  “Do what?” Cyn asked, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side.

  “Tolerate me,” she replied. “It’s not nearly as fun to poke you if you don’t get irritated.”

  “Maybe I am irritated.”

  Peri snorted. “That’s your irritated face? I thought that was your concerned face. And your happy face. And your pissed off face. And…”

  “The point has been made, Perizada. The horse is dead. You can cease the beating.”

  “Just to be clear, you’re the dead horse, right?”

  “Do you want to hear the story or not?” The younger fae ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Continue. Forgive my interruption.” Peri sighed.

  And Cyn did, as if her friend had never interrupted. “As soon as the rain began, I felt him behind me. Something happened then that had never happened to me before. It was as if this emptiness, which had always been inside of me called out to him to fill it.” She stopped and looked at Peri. Cyn’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned. “It was the first time I could remember feeling confused. I froze as I spun around to look at him. The mere sight of him took my breath away.”

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” Peri asked dryly.

  “What does?”

  “Finding out you were wrong all that time. We thought we didn’t need anyone, that we were complete beings on our own. And now we’re finding out our mates are the final piece to complete our jacked up puzzle. Not cool, Cyn. Not. Cool.”

  “Are you unhappy about Lucian?”

  “Unhappy is too simple a description for all the things I am about Lucian. But we are not here to discuss my love life. We are here to wade through your deepest, darkest secrets in regards to Mr. Elf Prince.”

  Cyn sighed. It seemed like the more involved she allowed herself to become with Thalion, the more she acted in uncharacteristic ways. She never used to sigh.

  Cyn picked up her story. “The first thing he said to me was ‘you’re not a male’.”

  Peri laughed. “Did you tell him that he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover? That would have confused the hell out of the dear prince.” Peri cackled.

  Cyn’s lips turned up in a smile. “No, but I did tell him he wasn’t a strong drink or a warm bed. That seemed to take him aback.”

  “I can only imagine how that must have sounded to him coming from you back then. You are a much different person then you once were. He probably couldn’t tell if you were being flippant or just stating a fact, as you often liked to do.”

  Peri shook her head with a slight smile on her face. Cyn knew it amused the high fae to no end to irritate powerful males. It was a weird hobby for a high fae, but one that Cyn had gotten used to from her mentor over the years.

  “So after the initial shock, I told him we should go somewhere dry to talk. I kept it short and to the point.”

  “Naturally,” Peri quipped. “Do you keep it any other way?”

  “I only spent about ten minutes total with him,” Cyn said, not bothering to acknowledge Peri’s question. “He attempted to ask me a few personal questions, but I simply bid him goodnight and reminded him that I would be checking in with him in a few months.”

  “Bet that didn’t tickle his quiver at all. A female fae warrior dismissing the mighty Prince of the elves.” Peri was highly amused.

  “He didn’t seem put out until I pulled a blade and held it to his neck.”

  Peri sputtered as she stared wide-eyed at Cyn. “Wait. What?”

  “I didn’t know he was the prince,” Cyn defended. “He never said, and you simply told me I was meeting an elvish representative.”

  “You did meet a representative. It just happened to be the prince, as well.” Peri laughed.

  “Glad I could entertain you,” Cyn grumbled—another thing she used to never do.

  “Explain why you pulled a blade on Thalion, Warrior,” Peri said once she’d composed herself.

  Cyn felt her cheeks flush, and she tried to will the reaction away. “He grabbed my wrist when I proceeded to get up and walk away. He said, ‘you can’t just leave now. We’ve only just met.’ I didn’t understand, or at least I was telling myself I didn’t understand what he meant. My knee-jerk reaction had been to neutralize the threat.”

  “Neutralize the threat?” Peri sputtered. “Cyn, he was a man smitten, and you pulled your blade on him for it?”

  Cyn shrugged. “I didn’t know he was smitten. I just thought he was being a pushy male.”

  “That’s a fair assumption to make. After all, male is the key word.” She let out a deep breath. “Now, pray tell, what was his reaction to the blade?”

  Cyn couldn’t help the smile that came across her face. “He had his own blade drawn and pressed to my abdomen in the same instant.”

  “Holy wolf bells, he really is perfect for you.”

  “Holy wolf bells?”

  Peri waved her off. “It’s a Jen thing.”

  “Enough said,” Cyn replied, holding up her hand as if to stop any further explanation from the high fae.

  “Speaking of Jen.” Peri paused and narrowed her eyes. “I’m about to have one of her moments. I’m giving you fair warning.”

  “What’s the point in warning me?” Cyn asked. “Jen moments are a force all their own. They can’t be stopped.”

  Peri shrugged. “I like to cover my bases. Now, shh. I’m reaching for my inner Jen. Let’s see, there was blade foreplay involved. I’m sure it was wrought with enough sexual tension to choke an elephant. Why, then, haven’t you made a whole castle full of little faelfy babies with the prince?”

  Cyn tried to refrain but the eye roll came anyway. “Faelfy?” Cyn’s eyes crinkled at the sides as her face pulled into a smile that looked as if it was induced by pain. “I think this thing you have going on with Jennifer is a tad unhealthy.”

  “And I think Thalion is just the stallion you need to ride off into the sunset with. Get it? Stallion? Ride? I know, I know. When I’m in touch with my inner Jen, it somehow blends with my own awesomeness. I’m unstoppable!”

  Cyn’s head dropped forward and met the palm of her hand as she groaned. “Tell me why I thought it a good idea to share my dilemmas with you?”

  “Cyn, you’re you. One of a kind. No one knows why you do anything you do.”

  “That’s not a flattering statement.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be flattering.”

  “Would you like me to continue, or is your inner Jen busy having an orgy with you inner Peri?” Cyn asked coolly.

  “You know, once upon a time, you weren’t so mouthy,” Peri said as she renegotiated her seat, holding her nose in the air.
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  “I’ve been around you for the better part of a thousand years, and you are surprised that I’ve given up on indifference and joined the dark side of sarcasm?” Cyn scoffed.

  “Can’t argue with that logic. Alas, I’m done derailing your story.” Peri sighed. “I totally suck at this being a listening ear kind of a friend.”

  Cyn smiled at her though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re a good commander. That’s more important.”

  The high fae snorted a laugh. “You would think that. Do you think that it’s more important that you be a fae warrior than the other half of someone’s soul?”

  “I don’t know anymore. Had you asked me that a couple of centuries ago, I would have said yes without hesitation. But now, after him, I don’t know.”

  “What are you afraid of?” Peri asked, all joking and sarcasm evaporated. “What could a warrior of your capability be afraid of?”

  “Making a poor decision,” Cyn answered immediately. “It’s the same in battle. Choosing incorrectly in the middle of a fight can kill you or, worse, one of your soldiers. Turn to the left when you should have gone right, parry with the jab of a short blade when you should have used a sword. What if I choose wrong? I might not be the only one that is destroyed.”

  Peri was quiet, and Cyn was lost in the suffocating fear that she couldn’t seem to overcome. “When did I become such a coward?” Cyn finally breathed out.

  “You’re not a coward,” Peri snapped. “I don’t make it a point to associate with cowards.”

  “Did I say that out loud?” Cyn asked.

  “There is nothing cowardly about protecting your heart, Cyn,” Peri said, ignoring her question. “You aren’t running away. You’re stepping back to evaluate your emotions and the possibilities. You have every right to guard your heart. It’s the only one you will ever have, and it can only withstand so many beatings. That pun was totally not intended.”