Forbidden Alien Prince: Celestial Mates (The Alva) Page 13

  "You know he’s more likely to back off if both of us go. Do you think he won’t tear House Lo'ara apart looking for me after you turn himself over to him? You’ll be proof he was right! That you tricked him to believe we died."

  "You are both wrong."

  Clara and I turn to look towards the doorway at Elorshin's voice.

  In our focus on our discussion, we didn't hear the door to the study open. Elorshin smiles as he stands just inside the doorway with Margot.

  "I apologize, but your voices carried out into the hall where Margot and I were discussing matters." He looks over at Margot, who nods, her face tense. "Margot and I have spoken about the situation." He turns back to us, shaking his head. "If you believe Rathorin will leave House Lo'ara intact if one of you, or even both of you, turn yourselves over to him...you are deluding yourselves. He is a Prince of a Major House and you have defied him in public." Elorshin waits for that to sink in before continuing. "I can tell you from my experience, he will not relent until he has decimated House Lo'ara. Naefaren has a much more level head, but even he did not hold back with House Ki'lar. Whether or not you sacrifice yourselves, House Lo'ara will know Rathorin's rage."

  Elorshin is saying what the voice at the back of my mind has been trying to tell me while I do my best to ignore it. I cannot accept that there is no hope for my House. Anger and grief at the thought makes my response harsh.

  "So, what? You propose that I do nothing, stand by while he destroys my House? When it is at risk because of my actions?" I shake my head. "You, of all people, know I cannot do that."

  Elorshin steps forward, his face sympathetic. "I would never advise you to do such a thing," he reassures me. "No. I am advising you to fight."

  I laugh harshly, the rough sound more like a bark. "You know a fight would lead to the same conclusion, the death of House Lo'ara. It may even speed up its demise."

  Elorshin nods, not arguing with my assessment. "Yes, I would agree with you. But only if you fight alone."

  I stare at him in shock. I do not know what to say to that.

  "Are you saying you will fight with us?" Clara asks, breaking the stunned silence.

  "I am," Elorshin confirms, nodding his head.

  "I cannot ask you to take such a risk," I start.

  "You are not asking," Elorshin retorts. "And this is not just for you. It's for all of us. For all the Minor Houses. I know the Major Houses still believe the only reason I won when attacking House Ki'lar was because a Major House allied with me. That Prince Naefaren was the real driving force behind that attack, behind my decision to fight for what is mine." He looks back at Margot, his love for her clear in eyes. "They are wrong," he says in a low voice, exchanging an intimate, lingering look with his Pari. "We will never be safe until we force the Major Houses to recognize we are strong on our own merit, that they cannot beat us down and take what they want from us. We need to show we will fight back."

  Elorshin's face is as intense as his voice, his belief in what he is saying undeniable. He is not wrong. But the risk...

  "Elorshin, you have a Pari, a baby. You have a family."

  "Yes," he agrees. "And what I do, I do for them. I do for my daughter. For her future." As he closes the distance between us, I loosen my hold on Clara and turn toward him. He sets his hands on my shoulders, his eyes focused on my face. "If we stand together, we are a formidable force."

  As I look back into his sincere eyes, I want to believe in his message. I want to fight for our future. But reality is undeniable.

  "I do not disagree with you. But even with your help, there is no guarantee of success. Rathorin's forces will still be greater."

  Elorshin smiles.

  "You must have faith, my friend. He may have greater numbers, but we have the will and the strength of the Minor Houses." He takes a deep breath. "And if we fail, I know Prince Naefaren will take care of House Do'ana. Fear of failure will not hold me back, hold us back. I will fight for what is right, for the future. Will you?"

  I take a deep breath, overwhelmed by the show support. Overwhelmed by the gravity of this crossroads. But there is no choice here, is there?

  I nod, my frustration and anger at the Major Houses re-igniting in the face of Elorshin's deep emotions.

  "My thanks," I say gruffly. "My thanks."

  Clara sets her hand on Elorshin's shoulder.

  "Our thanks," she corrects, giving Elorshin a level look.

  Elorshin nods sharply. "Now. We must plan."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Clara

  Elorshin sends scouts out to explore the little used maze of natural tunnels that snake through the spaces between the Alvan carved caverns. Their mission is to map a route through those tunnels and reach House Lo'ara without using the main entrance.

  It takes time for them to come back with a viable route, but it would have taken much longer for us to find the route with all of Elorshin's forces in tow. We are ready and waiting to leave as soon as they come back with the map, the jitters of anticipation alive and well in our group.

  Elorshin, Drevakin, and I are toward the front, following the scout’s most direct route to House Lo'ara. The tunnels are much narrower and darker than the ones I've seen so far, which makes sense since they’re naturally occurring as opposed to the carved pathways usually used. The ground is also much more uneven, not shaved down or trampled to smoothness like the more traffic heavy areas.

  I try to focus on these details as we make the journey to Drevakin's House to avoid considering all the possible negative outcomes of what we’re about to do. I'm not very successful. Drevakin reaches over to squeeze my hand in comfort. I look over and force a smile.

  "It does no good to worry," he says, as the carriage continues to move forward, the juntta given free rein in this stretch. "Resolve to do what you must when you must do it."

  I chuckle. "It sounds simple when you say it like that, but I can't."

  He smiles back. "It takes practice. Though I fear I cannot calm myself as I usually do either."

  "I know. I can feel it. But I would let you pretend if you wanted to," I tease.

  He grins, shaking his head as he looks forward again. I look ahead. The surrounding area seems to have grown brighter. I squint a little. There. There is an opening at the end of the tunnel.

  "This is the entrance to the rakennus," the scout leading us whispers as the carriages come to a halt. "If we travel through it, we will come out almost directly behind House Lo'ara."

  "Well done," Elorshin praises from his own carriage next to ours. "Go see if Rathorin and his people are at the front of the House." The scout nods with enthusiasm, moving toward that entrance. "And be careful," Elorshin adds. "Go slow, no risks. Understand?"

  The scout nods again, moving forward with a caution he didn’t show before. Three other young guys join him, the rest of the scouts, and they creep out through the opening and into the large cavern. The rest of us wait in silence, everyone tense in the long line behind us.

  It’s a disadvantage to go through such a narrow opening. It will force us to have to go into the cavern in a single file. The alternatives are a much longer route that another scout found, or the direct access from the main tunnel.

  If we go through the tunnel, we would be easy pickings for Rathorin's men. If we go through the longer route that allows more people through at once, we give Rathorin even more time to attack before we can get there.

  At least this entrance spits us out on the other side of the fortified walls of the House, hiding us from Rathorin's view. If we're quiet, we should be able to come in full force before he's tipped off to our arrival.

  The scouts return, looking grim faced.

  "Report," Elorshin demands.

  "They've moved closer. Still out of range of the archers but there's activity."

  Elorshin looks over at Drevakin.

  "We must move forward, quietly and quickly," Elorshin murmurs.

  Drevakin nods, his own face hard, ready for
what’s coming. "I agree."

  Passing the news down the line, we creep out of the tunnel and into the massive cavern. Because we have to be quiet, we move slower than we can, hoping to avoid notice. Luck is with us. Because there seems to be something going on over in the enemy camp, the noise their movements are making cover any stray sound we make.

  After a tense stretch of time I know is shorter than it seems, we're all in.

  Once we’re inside, hidden behind House Lo'ara, Elorshin and Drevakin give the signal to divide into two preassigned groups. One to follow Elorshin, the other Drevakin. The fastest way around the back of the house and to the front is for us to split up and move forward in a two pronged formation.

  As we move around the walls, my stomach is a queasy mess. We have a plan, but there are no guarantees.

  Quicker than I predicted, we reach the front of House Lo'ara. I scan the sea of people standing in formation, waiting for orders. It's a scary sight and with so many eyes, it doesn't take long for Rathorin's men to notice us.

  The man himself isn't hard to spot, he’s front and center. I'll give that to him, he isn't leading from behind.

  Watching, he frowns, looking around to see what the sudden restlessness is about. I'm looking right at him when he turns and spots us. A smirk crosses his face as he sees me and I have an overwhelming urge to wipe it off his face, preferably with a punch, but I'll take a kick.

  As his eyes slide to the side and he sees Drevakin next to me, his face tightens and his eyes narrow. That's better. As he takes in how many people are with us, anger infuses his face. I shouldn't enjoy throwing him off so much, but I do.

  It's really about the little joys in life.

  We come to a halt within House Lo'ara's archer range, the area left clear by Rathorin.

  "Come to surrender?" Rathorin calls out, eyeing our small army.

  "No. We will accept yours though," Drevakin calls back, projecting his voice across the distance.

  Rathorin's nostrils flare. No, he doesn’t like that at all. Poor baby.

  "What do you think you are doing? That is my mate you have. My mate you have taken in a dishonorable act." Good spin. Puts him in a good light. "Return her if you want your House to live. You do not have the numbers to overtake us." His eyes pause on Elorshin. "And I will remember this, Elorshin."

  "Please do," Elorshin replies with a sharp smile.

  Rathorin shakes his head, committed to sitting on top of his high horse. Hilarious.

  "I would not have taken you as someone who would side with a male that would take another's Pari from him."

  All right, that's enough of that.

  "I am not your Pari," I retort, fed up with his victim attitude. "I am Drevakin's."

  Pulling aside the top of my shirt I show the brand that scars my shoulder, left by Drevakin's bite. A clear mark showing I'm his. Rathorin eyes go to my bared shoulder. He’s almost glowing with rage.

  "There is no need for this," I continue, letting my shirt fall back into place. "He did not take me, I left of my own accord." Want to make sure that's on the record. "There’s no fight here."

  "I disagree, my dear," Rathorin grates out, looking up to meet my eyes. "You matched with me. You are mine." He sneers as he meets Elorshin's gaze again. "It seems as if the Minor Houses are forgetting their position. Perhaps it is time to remind all of you where you belong." He smiles, the expression cold. "At the bottom."

  What a dick.

  "Well now. I believe you are misinformed," Drevakin returns, his voice and demeanor calm. "I am certain the bottom belongs to those males who would force a female." He lets that sit then tilts his head to the side. "How does it feel to be at the bottom?"

  "I should have killed you when you were beating down my door," Rathorin growls, his face flushed and twisted.

  "Perhaps you should have," Drevakin agrees. "You definitely should have after I tasted Clara in the sitting room. Inside your House Mansion."

  "Drevakin!" I exclaim before I can catch myself.

  Confirming that what he's saying is true. Well, shit.

  If he wanted to make Rathorin angry, mission damn well accomplished.

  "You are the lowest of the low," Rathorin spits to the side. "And it seems I will have to instruct my mate on what is and is not proper behavior." He smiles at me, the look in his eyes letting me know the pain that awaits me if he gets his hands on me. "I look forward to it."

  "Yes, I suppose someone who cannot give pleasure to a female would have to worry about her straying," Drevakin adds, his tone musing. "Though I understand a limp cock is a difficult affliction to overcome," he adds with false sympathy.

  Stunned silence. If there were crickets, their chirping would be the only sound in the cavern. Then our side breaks out in uncontrollable laughter and there are covert snickers from Rathorin's men.

  Jeez. I guess that insult is universal.

  Rathorin glares at his men until they quiet. "My cock is no concern of yours. Perhaps I will cut yours off, seeing as you do not seem capable of keeping your trousers fastened," Rathorin calls back, anger and embarrassment vying for top position on his face.

  I would feel bad for him. If he wasn't him. Drevakin smiles.

  "You are welcome to try." He gives my hand one last squeeze before he hops down from the carriage. But he doesn't look at me.

  I love you.

  Swallowing hard as I hear his voice in my head, I reply through our bond, I know. Don't get your cock cut off please. I need it.

  His smile turns genuine as he makes a show of walking out to the space between our forces and Rathorin's, the saunter another taunt. He braces his feet and meets Rathorin's eyes. The sound of Drevakin's sword and then his knife leaving their scabbards is loud as everyone seems to hold their collective breath. He holds them in guard position, raising his brows in question.

  For a moment, I wonder if we've played this wrong and Rathorin won't take the bait. He could have Drevakin killed where he stands, well before any of us could get to him. But then he hops down from the carriage.

  I sigh in relief.

  Rathorin walks over to a spot a few yards away from Drevakin, pulling out his own sword and shorter knife.

  "I will make certain Clara has a good view as I saw your balls off," Rathorin says in a conversational tone.

  "I know it must be difficult to not have testicles of your own, but I believe mine will be too big for your dainty cock. They would make it look even smaller," Drevakin counters.

  I watch Rathorin's face turn even more purple at the laughter that follows that taunt.

  Shit. I hope this was the right move.

  I know first hand that Drevakin can fight. He's good. Amazing, actually, but I haven't seen Rathorin fight yet.

  Drevakin and Elorshin seemed to think Drevakin would have a fair shot when we spoke about it earlier. And it would most definitely be the path with the least bloodshed. But the logic of it doesn't matter.

  My heart is still in my throat as the two of them circle each other, their bodies matched in size.

  Come on, Drevakin.

  You can do this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Drevakin

  Silently I circle Rathorin, watching, looking for an opening. He is angry as he mirrors me, my laughter at his expense disconcerting to him. Such ridicule to his face is new to him, I'm certain. A man who rules through fear would never hear such insults.

  Good.

  The more emotional he is, the more likely he is to make a mistake. One I will be ready and waiting for. I sense Clara's anxiety and worry at the back of my mind, but I have to block her emotions out and focus on the fight itself.

  I have seen Rathorin fight before, but that was quite a few years ago. I remember he was fast and strong, his technique more direct. Unless he has allowed himself to go soft in the intervening years, which it does not look like he has, he is a formidable opponent. But having spectators watching is in my favor.

  While he may worry about a
ppearances, I do not. Any extra distraction is a plus. He darts in with a showy move, swinging his blade around in an elegant arc toward my neck.

  Elegant and pretty—yes.

  Effective—no.

  Stepping aside, I avoid the blow, kicking at the back of his knee as I spin around. He stumbles, but regains his balance and turns, his eyes narrowed. He's wary now as he watches me, his gaze more focused.

  When he comes in again, it is not with an exaggerated move intended to play to an audience, but rather one that is calculated and fast. He distracts me with a swipe of his knife and as I dodge that, his kick lands heavy on my left thigh.

  Moving to avoid another slice from his knife, numbness from the blow spreads through my thigh. Ignoring the throbbing pain, I spin my knife around in my hand and attack, digging the point into his forearm.

  He pulls back, and it tears a gash, making the wound in his sword arm worse. He moves the sword to his unwounded arm and his knife to the one now dripping blood. That was a costly mistake.

  We continue to watch each other, circling. Careful to not telegraph my intent, I swing my sword around, testing his guard. He blocks, the clang of metal on metal loud, the scuffing sound from our boots a soft counterpoint.

  We trade a few blows, but neither can get through. We separate again. This time I let him come at me. When he comes in with a feint, I am ready.

  As he pulls back the blow from the sword, I take a step toward him rather than back, inside his guard now, rendering his sword ineffective.

  Stabbing upward with my knife, I aim for his vulnerable stomach. He twists around and blocks, forcing my knife off. It grazes across his protected ribs and his movement leaves his midsection open for another attack.

  I take the opening and drive my knee up into his stomach, hard enough he doubles over, retching. Moving in quick, I shove him over and onto the ground, grinding my boot down on the wrist holding his sword until he lets go.

  I miss his other hand. He stabs me in the calf with his knife and pulls the sharp blade out again, intent on sinking it in my flesh. Stepping back to avoid the next blow, I grimace at the sharp pain and the flow of warm blood dripping down my leg.