When he turned to face me, the emotion and gratitude bursting from his eyes transformed into fiery passion, powerful and unstoppable.
He stalked towards me, his extended hand silently calling me to him. My heart shuddered in my chest at the sight of him like this, and I left Imogen’s side to meet him halfway. The moment we met, he yanked me against his broad chest, his lips crashing against mine fiercely and needily. Steps shuffled behind us, giving us privacy.
My arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as I gave in to his fervent embrace, not caring who saw us. By the time his mouth set me free, my entire body tingled with need, and my lips burned, begging to have him again.
“Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine as we both tried to catch our breaths. “I can’t explain how much this means to me.”
“I know, but you deserve this and so much more. I’m just glad I could offer this moment to you amid everything that is happening.”
His chest expanded against my breasts with his deep breath, and he traced his thumb along my cheek, brushing a soft and adoring kiss over my lips that calmed the frantic beating of my heart.
“I love you, Evanna Skyborne.”
A grin captured my lips, and I stole one final kiss. “I love you too, Braxton Skyst—”
Loud throat clearing reverberated behind us—several actually—so we let go of each other, turning to see the guard gathering at the entrance and blocking us from something. Not something, someone.
Sighing, I faced them while Braxton took his place by my side. “You may let him pass. I summoned him here today.”
As Elijah, Islay, Harper, Arlo, and the others stepped aside, Lachlan appeared by the doors. The look my guardian pinned him with left much to be desired; he was still upset with him for how Lachlan behaved recently, and I couldn’t blame him.
The way Lachlan tensed, pulling his gaze from him with regret, gave me hope for our conversation today. Perhaps, the dear friend I grew up with, trained with, fought with, was not lost to me anymore. One could only hope this ridiculous skirmish between him, and my mate would end here and now.
Braxton and I exchanged a glance, and he nodded, knowing this was something we needed to attempt. I was certain that once my old friend learned the truth, or at least part of it, he would stop this nonsense and understand Braxton was not the deceitful man he believed him to be. He didn’t need to protect us from him. Then he would see that Brax belonged here, with me… or, at least, I prayed he would.
Whatever transpired between us, there was still a place in my heart for Lachlan, for what he once meant to me, and it would hurt me deeply if I had to let him go. I may not love him like I did Braxton, but I still cared for him.
“Lachlan,” I greeted as he moved through my guard, taking a few steps closer. “Thank you for coming today.”
Imogen held his gaze firmly when he walked past her, a clear warning to behave or else. She didn’t seem like the type to, as Braxton would say, put up with anyone’s crap.
His attention finally settled on me, and his face illuminated with a dazzling smile the instant he saw me. “I will always be here for you when you call, my princess,” he offered, placing a hand on his chest in devotion as he stopped before me.
Something about the way he said “my princess” made me uncomfortable. A touch of possessiveness danced in his voice, making me bristle.
Instinctively, I took a step back, preferring to leave a respectful distance between us. I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea about why I had summoned him here, alone, without even his cousin by his side. My movement caused his attention to broaden, soon realizing I wasn’t alone.
When his gaze caught Braxton a few steps behind me, every muscle in his form tensed. The smile that softened his features just a moment ago disappeared, replaced by a menacing stare, as though Braxton was a threat to us all that he needed to eradicate.
Gods, give me patience…
“What is he doing here?” Lachlan seethed, his eyes never leaving Brax.
“He is here because we want to talk to you,” I explained and turned back, silently calling my mate back to my side.
“I know you want to protect Evanna and the others from me, but—”
“Princess Evanna to you,” Lachlan barked, and I could physically see the effort it took for my mate not to react to that.
“I know you think that I have been lying to them and to our people,” Brax continued, ignoring his outburst. “That I’m not who I say I am—”
“Because you are not. I know you are lying. You are hiding something, and I will do whatever it takes to expose you and show them what you really are,” my old friend seethed.
“You are right. I am lying,” my mate confessed, walking closer and making Lachlan falter with the statement. “I’m not who I said I was. I’m not a slave rescued by Evanna after escaping the Hollow. But the thing is, Lachlan, that even though I lied to you, to our people, to my friends, I never lied to them.” He gestured to me and Kingston. “Evanna and the chief knew who I truly was even before I realized it myself.”
Lachlan’s expression darkened. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, gazing towards my guardian and then at me.
“I know… but I think this will help.” Stepping out of the way, Braxton signaled towards his father’s portrait.
Instinctively holding my breath, I turned as my old friend walked past me towards the wall, waiting, hoping the second reason for placing the painting here today served its purpose.
Even with freshly polished bronze, the canvas spoke louder than any words could. Its presence perfectly mirrored the aged façade of my parents’ portrait, which hung right beside it. They were a painted at the same time years ago, before we were even born. No lie could ever replace the truth displayed on the canvas for all to see.
With each step, the contempt Lachlan felt for Braxton seemed to vanish, disbelief and bewilderment carving its way through his features in its stead. Stopping before the frame, he reached for the plaque just like my mate had done, admiring it.
“It reads, Khayden Skystorm, the Harbinger of Justice,” I offered, but something told me that, even without being able to read it, he already knew.
The Harbinger had been Lachlan’s idol for as long as I could remember. Even after being “disgraced” and deemed a “traitor,” my friend had never stopped admiring everything he accomplished before he “abandoned” us. He hated him too, more out of hurt from his betrayal than anything else—because we erroneously believed the Harbinger ran away when we needed him the most.
It was the very reason Lachlan was so opposed to me travelling to the Mirror World to look for him in the first place, which caused the fall between us. Yet, I knew he was secretly Lachlan’s hero… A fact that was true now more than ever after Khayden Skystorm’s reputation was cleared of any wrongdoing, so this gave me hope.
Placing a hand over his heart, Lachlan knelt before the painting, his gaze never leaving his hero’s. A million emotions seemed to course through him, but he remained silent.
I reached for my mate, seeing a certain emotion capture him too while he witnessed the man that he considered a rival show such reverence to his father.
After what seemed like forever, my old friend stood, sending a reluctant glance at Braxton over his shoulder. For a moment, he regarded him, and then returned his attention to the portrait. “You are the Harbinger of Justice’s son…”