The Battle of the Trees - Sword, Ring, and Crown Book Two

Chapter Eight

Shortly after Adrian left, Ciaran returned bearing a large jar of flesh-colored cream. "This is the thickest I could find, Princess. There is an actor's guild in the city, and they swear by it. Let us be clear — I find it reprehensible that you should cover your marks because they are too lovely to be hidden." He handed me the jar then stroked his fingers down my chin.

As I accepted the jar, I said, "We've spent too much time fretting over this. And..."

He stepped closer to me, his expression intense. "And what?"

My face felt clammy as I wrestled with the decisions I had to carry out. My luck had created nothing easy for me so far, and what I truly wished was to whine and moan for at least a month, then decide. All these soul-altering choices thrown at me with hardly any space to calculate the costs made me feel sick.

"You're so pale, Princess..." Ciaran moved nearer and tilted my chin up. His opal eyes shone brighter as he gazed into mine.

I clutched at my stomach, recognizing that changes would happen soon, and I might not survive them. I wondered if this was how my mother worried when she discovered herself pregnant with me. Although she'd never complained about having to be isolated from her kind, after losing my step-father, she'd turned more distant. I didn't recall many hugs after he'd been eliminated from our life, but I remembered that she always required me to be ready. She'd been a grim, powerful force all on her own, and I'd been a constant subject of her frustration.

Two of my dearest friends might have helped create a baby within me. Along with Ciaran's child, that gave me three lives I could ruin with bad choices. I inhaled as I closed my eyes. 

We made these children from love, and I was going to love them. "I will keep them. I'll keep the babies. "

Ciaran gathered me up into his arms. As I stood in his trembling embrace, it eventually hit me how much this meant to him. Wanted. This child, or these children - this man loved them more than anything. I wondered if my step-father had thought the same way, only to learn he was not the one. Had the Straif even known about me? I wasn't sure that he truly loved me or if I'd just been a successful science experiment. Would Ciaran's feelings change?

Ciaran felt my worries and doubts, and he rushed to reassure me. "Princess, I will be with you every step of the way. I will make the best father, I promise. I have been waiting an eternity to prove that I will."

"Okay..." I put my hand between us and over his heart. Tears flowed down my face as he pressed his palms on my cheeks to capture my lips with his own. Anguish, relief, hope, love, gratitude, and determination flowed into me as his hands went from my face to my hair to bury them into my wild curls. One hand slipped down to the small of my back to draw me closer. As usual, despite knowing that the man was getting his hooks in me again, I draped an arm around his shoulders to steady me. Like always, I experienced the now-familiar elation draw up through my spirit and spill between Ciaran and me, as the connection to every tree in the universe locked me into its embrace. I opened my eyes and saw that Ciaran and I were glowing. I also saw Ciaran's roots, and he had attached every one of them to my connection to him. He'd made me his sole center - both his hub and his spoke. And the knowledge was too much.

I pushed back from his kiss and slammed down our connection to each other with a cry. Along with the taste of tears, there was the savor of honey, apples, and love.

"Ciaran... I can't..." I gasped, trembling from the effort of denying myself that sea of completeness. I threw up my shield of protection to keep our tumultuous emotions from overrunning me.

He pushed his fists to his forehead. "You noticed it, didn't you? You are my everything, Madeline Thomas -- my only Princess."

My expression was bleak because I wasn't confident  I could return his wild affections. Were these jewels I was receiving from them indeed terms of love or were they just the desperate reactions of a life lived without it? His face crumpled with hurt when he perceived my struggle as he clasped my hands. Shame rose within me that I forced this self-assured man to endure pain, and I felt my resolve begin to crumble along with my shield.