A Harmony of Hearts_Book 3_Spellsinger Series Page 6

“No; I'm worried for you,” he admitted. “Two months isn't a lot of time, especially not to fall in love.”

  “That's why I asked Vivian for help,” I said. “It's going to be all right, Ban.”

  “I can't watch you die again, Elaria,” he whispered. “I'll follow you this time. We can be reborn together.”

  “Banning,” I said firmly, “neither of us is dying. And as far as being reborn together; do you think we would have got together so quickly if you hadn't recognized me?”

  “Maybe not as quickly, but we would have worked it out eventually.”

  “And I might have found this other man before that happened.” I shrugged. “We don't know because we did things our way. I'm content with that, but I don't want to risk another go at it.”

  “Perhaps Declan and I should attend this Ball.” Banning's forest-green eyes lightened and started to glow with his anxiety. “We should talk to this man and show him that this doesn't have to be awkward or uncomfortable.”

  “I think your first instinct was the right one.” I shook my head. “Let me get to know him first before we drop the multiple-lovers-bomb on him.”

  “That may leave him feeling deceived.” Banning scowled.

  “I'll tell him, just not right off the bat.” I cocked my head at Banning. “How would you feel if you were attracted to a woman, and she immediately told you that she was with two other men, but she needed a third so she wouldn't die?”

  “That might ruin the mood,” he conceded with a huff, and then ran a hand through his shoulder-length, blond hair roughly.

  “If, after I tell him, he wants to speak with you, I will call you in,” I amended gently.

  “Maybe we should go just in case he wants to speak with us immediately,” Banning offered. “We can just stay out of it until we're needed.”

  “Banning, I don't want to put you through that,” I said softly. “I know that I couldn't watch you romance another woman... at least not without tearing her to pieces.”

  “There is that,” he agreed. “The thought of you with another man unsettles me; how could it not? But I'm happy, Elaria. It's far better to share you than not have you at all, and honestly, I feel no jealousy for Declan. This spell has eased my emotions toward him, and I'm sure it will do so after this new man has been included in the magic.”

  “I'm glad you're happy.” I leaned into his side, and he slipped an arm around me. “Relieved, actually.”

  Banning was dressed casually, in a T-shirt and jeans, and as he moved his arm, his shirt sleeve scrunched up. My face stared back at me from his bicep. It was a tattoo of an old portrait of me, back when I was Fortune... and a blooder. Banning's old gheara (blooder leader) killed me, putting into motion a series of events that led him to Kansas, where he became a gheara himself, head of his own gura. Then the European Falca had sent a blooder army after Banning, and Cerberus called me in to help defend his blooder friend. My reborn soul had been drawn back to Banning; in a new world but an identical body.

  And that—in addition to the RS—was why Banning was okay with this situation. His priority has always been me and my continued existence. Mainly, he wanted to keep me alive; his desire to be with me took second place. There was something romantic and honorable about that. Banning loved me enough to let me love someone else. It was a complete opposite to Torin's love for me.

  Torin's alpha-possessiveness was something I had to work through before I could enjoy. Probably because I was so similar to him. Seeing an unwanted trait of my own, in another person, tends to make me hate it in them even more. I know that sounds silly, but it wasn't until Torin explained his possessiveness to me—that it wasn't about owning, but about sharing a love together—that I recognized it in myself and appreciated it in him. Torin made it acceptable, and I was finally able to admit that I was just like him. I understood that kind of love because it was how I loved. I even found it thrilling to be wanted like that.

  But the way Banning loved me was thrilling as well. Not only that, it was humbling. It almost made my love for him feel inadequate by comparison. I know it's not inadequate; love comes in many forms, and we can't change the way we feel it. Which is why I also know that letting Torin go was the right thing to do. He wouldn't accept this, not in time to save my life. And as much as I loved Torin, I wasn't about to die to make him feel like a man. Mama didn't raise a fool.

  I would content myself with the amazing lovers I had, and—at the risk of sounding selfish—focus on gaining another.

  “We'll get through this,” Banning said. “Whatever happens, we'll be all right as long as we stay together.”

  “You are incredibly sexy right now.” I smirked.

  And he was. Those brilliant green eyes with their long, sweeping lashes, were enough to make a woman just sit and stare; frozen in awe. But then you noticed the rest of his face; the nobility in the slope of his nose, the hardness of his jawline that hinted at stubbornness, and the firm lips that were neither too full nor too thin. His brows were dark blond, but his hair was much paler; blooder blond—a golden, gleaming color that looked too perfect to be natural. It's what happens to blond hair after centuries of a body healing itself daily. Then there was Banning's body; the wide shoulders, slim hips, rounded ass, and thick biceps covered in tattoos. I could happily stare at him all night.

  Banning glanced at the closed door and then the darkening sky. I slid out of my seat and went to lock the door before he could change his mind. He had the table pushed out by the time I got back to him and was undoing his belt as he resumed his seat. I smiled wickedly and slipped out of my panties before I straddled his lap. Then I leaned down for a scorching kiss. I could taste the sugar on his lips, and combined with the flavor of the man himself; it was addictive.

  “Someone could walk by outside,” he warned me with a glance at the French doors.

  “Do I look like I care?” I took him in hand and angled him right where I wanted him.

  “You look like heaven on earth,” he whispered. “Come here, my angel.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I was spread out on the plush carpet, Banning's head pillowed on my belly, and our clothes strewn around us, when a knock came at the dining room's door. Banning growled in irritation as he lifted himself. I stretched out an arm to snatch my dress, but Banning shifted down my body and gave me a long, perfectly placed lick before he sat up. My rubbery legs tried to tremble in response to the zing of pleasure, but all they could manage was a rubbery flop. Banning chuckled in satisfaction as he stood and then slipped into his jeans. He waited for me to crawl into my dress and then helped me onto the bench before he opened the door.

  “I'm sorry, Gheara,” Arnold, one of Banning's top blooders, said as he took in Banning's half-dressed state. “But I thought this was important enough to interrupt you.”

  “What is it?” Banning took a sheet of paper from Arnold and scanned it.

  “That message was left on the Lion's main line this afternoon.” Arnold's face looked grim and a little irritated.

  “Fuck him!” Banning snapped.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “My father,” Banning huffed. “Thank you, Arnold. Don't concern yourself with this; I'll handle it.”

  Arnold nodded and left without another word, closing the door quietly behind him. I looked at Banning askance as he joined me on the bench.

  “Sorin still hasn't given up,” Banning was incredulous. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear.”

  “When you nearly slaughtered his entire gura?” I asked. “Yeah; that was about as transparent as it gets.”

  “We did that together,” he said with a purr and gave me a quick kiss.

  “It was quite a thing,” I agreed. “How many blooders does he have left?”

  “I've had reports that he's been calling blooders home to increase the gura back to its former strength.” Banning sighed.

  “Calling blooders home?” I narrowed my eyes. “I don't like the sound of that.”


  “You shouldn't.” He laughed mirthlessly. “It means that he's demanding that blooders who have left the gura return; and a blooder doesn't leave his or her gura until he's strong enough to survive on his own.”

  “So, Sorin is bringing back strong, old blooders,” I murmured. “He can do that?”

  “Under these circumstances, he can,” Banning said. “A depleted gura is vulnerable, and his gura is the first; the other blooders will not allow it to be weak.”

  “I don't suppose he's going to pick one of these badass blooders to be his heir?” I asked without much hope.

  “He won't.” Banning shook his head. “Sorin is too traditional. He'll only pass the gura to a blooder of his line.”

  “Why can't he just make a new one?” I huffed.

  “A new blooder will be too weak to lead. Sorin would have to wait centuries before he could pass the reign to a new son.” Banning rolled his eyes. “And he is not a patient man.”

  “What do you think he's planning?” I asked. “What does the message say?”

  “He's planning to lure me back,” Banning said with narrowed eyes.

  “That again?” I sighed.

  “Those strong blooders he's calling home aren't for him”—Banning waved the paper at me—“they're an incentive for me. He thinks that if he makes the gura powerful enough, it will win me back.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because he doesn't understand love or loyalty.” Banning handed me the paper. “He never has.”

  “You'll obviously whore yourself for power,” I read and then gasped. “That fucking asshole!”

  “Keep reading,” he said dryly.

  “But that is unnecessary, Son,” I read on. “I can give you more power than your spellsinger ever could. I'm rebuilding the gura for you, and when I'm done, you'll be able to destroy the Falcas and reign as a true king, with the entire blooder world as your kingdom.” I blinked, staring at the white paper like maybe there were a whole bunch of typos on it. “Is he for real?” I finally asked Banning. “Does he truly believe you'd want to take down the Falcas? Great gods; that would...”

  “It would change the balance of power in the Beneath,” Banning whispered. “Yes, I know.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “I''m going to handle it, just as I said.” Banning fetched his phone from the table and dialed with angry taps. He put the phone to his ear and took a deep breath. Then he glanced my way and seemed to make a decision; he moved the phone away from his ear and hit the Speaker button.

  A ringing broke off with King Sorin Iliescu's voice, “Banning, my son!”

  “Sorin,” Banning growled. “I received your message.

  “And you've called to claim your birthright,” Sorin said it as a given.

  “You still don't think that anyone could be different than you,” Banning huffed. “Just because you are power-hungry, it doesn't make me so.”

  “I was power-hungry,” Sorin corrected. “Now, I want rid of it all. But you are still young. You must covet strength; you're a blooder of my line.”

  “Receiving your blood didn't change my soul,” Banning said tiredly. “Sorin, I don't want to take control of the Blooder Community and I don't want your gura, no matter how strong you make it.”

  The silence stretched out.

  “But the spellsinger...”

  “I love Elaria,” Banning said simply.

  “But to share her with another... that's madness,” Sorin snapped. “No blooder male would allow his woman to take other lovers.”

  “Elaria needs multiple lovers to live, and I want her to live more than I want her to keep her to myself.” Banning rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “I don't know why I even bother to explain this to you; there's no way you'll understand.”

  “You're right; I can't understand,” Sorin huffed. “If she must love many men, that's perfectly fine, it happens all the time, but why tie yourself to her? Find another.”

  “I love her!” Banning shouted. “You old, black-hearted fool! Since you can't feel it for yourself, let me try one more time to make this simple for you; love is caring about another person and wanting the best for them. I would kill and die for Elaria. Allowing her to have other lovers is the fucking least of what I would do for her.”

  “Fine,” Sorin said with an air of confusion. “You love her. Why can't you love her and claim your birthright?”

  “I could if I wanted to,” Banning said flippantly. “But I don't. I have no desire to rule the First Court. I gathered my gura carefully, making certain that every member of it was someone I wanted around me forever. They have stood by me through things that would have made most blooders their age run screaming. They are my people, and they are the only gura I want.”

  “We'll see about that.” The line went dead.

  Banning and I exchanged dark looks.

  Chapter Twelve

  The night of the Witch's Ball arrived, and I left the Alexandrite Kingdom—where Banning and Declan would be waiting together—for Coven Cay, alone. I'd return to them after the Ball; hopefully with another man.

  I traveled into Vivian's private suite this time; at her request. She was waiting for me with a smile and a gown. I lifted an eyebrow at the shimmering, gold silk as she held it out to me. It was a perfect foil for the silver she was dressed in. I already had on a simple black sheath, which I thought was elegant and understated.

  “You're supposed to be the entertainment, remember?” She asked me. “You need to look a little flashy.”

  I took the dress from her and admired the heavy weight of it.

  “I've shared our plan with the other witch elders so that they'd open the Ball to the public this year,” she went on. “But the rest of the witches don't know of your spell.”

  “Not even my father?”

  “Not unless you told him.”

  “I told Cerberus, but I didn't tell Dad.” I sighed. “I couldn't bring myself to worry him. He already feels guilty about bringing Thomas into our lives.”

  “Then we must keep up the ruse that you're treating us to one of your precious performances.” Vivian shrugged. “I may have added a little luck magic to the silk.”

  “Thank you, Vivian,” I hugged her. “For everything.”

  “You're important to us, Elaria,” she said sternly. “Saving the realms is not something that we'll ever forget, not any of us. Especially since you did so with our relic. As far as I'm concerned, you're an elite breed of witch—one of us—and witches always look after their own.”

  “Still, I appreciate it.” I slid out of my dress and into the gold silk. It fell around me in a sweeping bias cut that clung to my curves. “And I can use all the luck I can get.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes, Fairy Godmother,” I teased her.

  Vivian chuckled. “I know how you meant that, so I won't take offense at you calling me a fairy.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And this isn't a pair of glass shoes.” She held out the griffin feather from her workroom.

  It had been removed from its leather cord and wrapped in gold wire for a more luxurious look. The wire formed a loop and was strung on a long, gold chain. I took it reverently and slipped it over my head. It hung just over my belly, held away from my body by the curve of my breasts, to dangle in a straight line. My hands went to it automatically, stroking the silky length.

  “I thought the feather cured blindness?” I asked her. “Why would I need it?”

  “There is more than one way to be blind,” she said evasively. “I had a feeling that you should wear it tonight... but it's a loan, not a gift.”

  “I'm honored to wear it, even if it's only for one night,” I said softly.

  “He's on his way, Elaria.” Vivian stroked the hair away from my face. “I feel the spell building.”

  “Yes, I feel something too,” I agreed. “Like a storm brewing; static on my skin.”

  “A storm
,” Vivian mused. “Yes; I think that's apt. We're looking for lightning tonight—hoping it will strike.”

  “I'm not leaving until it does,” I vowed.

  We walked into the ballroom together, and heads turned our way. It was just as I'd noted; our gowns were perfect opposites, but so were our looks. Vivian's hair was as pale as mine was dark, and her body was slim where mine was curvy. To top it off, the magic passed down to me through my father was associated with fire, and Vivian was a water witch. Even our magics were opposites.

  We stood just inside the open, double doors, and stared at the crowd as if we reigned the room. I could barely focus; I was so nervous. My gaze skittered over the shimmering gathering; every beneather I could think of was there—except the manticores, thank Persephone. In fact, Persephone was there as well, and she nodded her head to me in regal acknowledgment. Hades clutched her to his side as if he thought she might make a run for it. But that barely registered with me. I couldn't keep my stare on one thing for long. Everything seemed too bright; from the massive, crystal chandeliers sparkling above us, to the lengths of white silk draping the floor-to-ceiling windows. The night was dark beyond the glass, but I swore I could see something moving through it; something predatory.

  “There's my girl!” My father crowed as he strode over to me with my mother, effectively snapping me out of my daze. “You two look amazing together.”

  “Thank you, Robert,” Vivian inclined her head to him, then to my mother, and finally to me. “Break a leg, Spellsinger.”

  “What?” My father gasped in horror.

  “She's performing tonight,” Freya explained as she stepped up to us on Cerberus' arm. “That's what you say to an entertainer, is it not?”

  Vivian smiled mysteriously as she swished away.

  Both Cerberus and Freya looked stunning. Freya's mass of golden curls was piled high on her head, with a waterfall of them left to drape down her bare back. Her red dress skimmed her body like another fall of water, clinging to dips and curves, and showing clearly that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Cerberus had a possessive arm around her waist and was casting glares at any man who stared too long at Freya. He was so busy being an alpha male that he didn't realize he was attracting just as much attention as his date. Cerberus' deep-oak hair was brushed back from his striking face, and his matching brown eyes sparkled. He looked dashing in his tuxedo, the breadth of his shoulders seeming wider beneath the tailoring, and his bow tie was studded with silver spikes; reminiscent of a dog collar. One of Cer's most attractive features was his ability to never take himself too seriously.