Page 21 of Beauty

Gillian’s mouth turns down. “I’ve heard rumors.”

I lean forward, a bit surprised. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, and it could all bepeasant rabble-rousing. We have no way of knowing. They say the kings havebonded and formed a true triad.”

I sit back, my head spinning with the thought. A true triad.It’s a legend. The story goes that when a pair of symbiotic twins find their perfectmate, they come into godlike powers. In the past, some could call water totheir aid, walking on it and forming huge waves to crush their enemies, whileothers claimed the power to talk to all manner of beast, building an army ofpredators. But it’s merely a legend. If it happened before, it was so long agono one on either of the planes can remember it. Surely it’s merely a rumor.Symbiotic twins are rare and powerful, but they can’t control the elements.

Some could call forth the dead, bringing them back tolife when their power merged with fire.

A chill crosses my skin. Where did that thought come from?

I shake it off. It doesn’t matter. “I pray the rumors arecorrect and that Beck and Cian have found their mate. I don’t believe the truetriad stuff. All I want is my brothers alive and happy and safe.”

I hope they’re out there, perhaps on the Vampire plane withour cousin Dante, enjoying life. They don’t know I’m alive. It’s better thisway. They can have their family without risking themselves. Even as the thoughtcrosses my mind, I know Torin won’t allow it. As long as Beck and Ci drawbreath, he will plot to kill them. He has to.

And I must stay alive. Because in the end, my brothers willbe forced to come back to Tír na nÓg one way or another. I take a deep breath,the cool night air filling my lungs. That’s a battle for another day.

“I’ll deal with Micha. He’ll want a grand wedding. He’sintent on inviting the queen herself.” Maris. My fists clench. Maris, thebetrayer. Over the years, I learned that Maris was the one to open the palacegates and allow Torin’s marauders in. Maris, who pledged to love my brothers.Maris, whose corpse I intend to see tossed over her husband’s.

Gillian stands, seemingly satisfied with that bit of news.“Excellent. A wedding like that will take months to plan. We can sell our cropsand disappear. Perhaps a seaside province this time. I’ve long wanted to try myhand with a fishing net.”

So I’ll be learning another skill. Well, I do enjoy achallenge. “We’ll have the most profitable boat in no time.”

Gillian nods and leaves. My heart races a bit as I get underthe covers and snuff out the candle. I settle into the firm straw mattress,wiggling around until I’m as comfortable as I’m likely to be.

Moonlight streams in, casting everything with a silveryglow. I close my eyes and pray for sleep.

I walk into the room, white marble under my feet.This is the White Palace, my home. I know it, even years later. It plays in theback of my mind that it’s probably different now. Thirteen years of Torin’srule undoubtedly changed the place, but in my dreams, the palace is still mysunny home, unchanged, undimmed by faulty memory.

I turn my face up. This is the sunshine room. Oh, my mothercalls it the waiting room, where she and her ladies sit and sew and chat, but Icall it the sunshine room because it’s always filled with light.

A familiar shape moves just outside of the light’s reach.This shape hides in shadows.

My Dark Ones.

“Are you coming out?” I call, teasing them a bit. I catchsight of one and then the other, their forms clinging to the edge of the light.

“Why don’t you come back in?” They speak in one voice, aslight echo in the words.

It’s always this way. Come morning, I’ll wonder why I neversit down and talk to them, but caught in the dream, I simply do what feelsright.

They don’t love the light the way I do, but they always waitfor me. I turn my face up to the sun, letting it warm me. The sun feelsdifferent here. In my village, it’s always so hot during the summers, but atthe palace the sun is a soft kiss on my skin, warming me gently.

“We can kiss you better than the sun. Come here.”

I smile, not looking their way yet. They grow surer and moredominant with each night. It’s hard to believe that they came to me aschildren. I was five and so shy of the boys who called out to me in dreams.

I want to play with them now, but not as children.

My nipples tighten against the soft silk of my gown.

“If you don’t come to us, we’ll be forced to get you, sweetheart.It might not go well for you,” the more dominant voice says.

“He’s itching to spank you, love. Give him a reason.” Thissecond voice is gentler, but there is no mistaking his interest.

Nor mine. I can explore everything in these dreams, andlately, my interests have taken a distinctly disciplinary tone. I wonder ifthey will truly spank me. I wonder how it will feel.

“Yes, and you’ll love it.”