The Traveler: Bella's Tale

Tears were now rolling freely across his cheeks.  “The stars answered my call.  Through the sea of dark and demons, a single glimmering light appeared.  Beneath the waves of void, a heart pulsed faint with life, a soul spoke to mine, and a song echoed still.  The bond that was broken, sundered and gone, rekindled with flame, talon, and earthy song.  Her fever broke as she pulled herself free, her song and spirit a challenge and promise for me.” 

           With head bowed, his elegant frame quivering with fury and passion, he continued.  “I stand here before you now, my soul laid bare for your eyes.  Every whisper I have uttered is naught but the truth.  As the guardians of the Traveler you possess the right to say me yea or nay.  My fate and the truth of our rupture now rest in your hands.  Say you yea or nay?”

         Afton and Bellewolf locked gazes; they knew what they had to do.  Although still smarting from the pain Tristan had caused Bella, they knew they could not deny him.  To do so would damn both of their friends.  Both lords also knew that if Tristan didn’t toe the line, Bella would use every ounce of power she possessed to bring him to heel.

She had issued challenge tonight and Tristan was already fighting for control against the roiling tide of her song.  Cunning wasn’t a tactic Ettlesworth had ever had used against him, which would make Bella’s taunt with Marcus sting just a little bit more.  She would return to him eventual, but she wouldn’t do so without a fight.  It was a battle of wills both men had been waiting three years to see.  Petite though she was, Bella knew exactly where Tristan’s trigger points lay and she had launched her spurs with deadly accuracy.  Lethal Darkkin smiles flashed in the candlelit glow as Afton and Bellewolf reached their decision.

One of the rarest Graces of the Darkkin flashed between the three men, the wild golden eyes of those able to mist.  Three pairs locked in a tense battle of wills, before Bellewolf finally conceded.  “We answer yea, but know this and know this well, Tristan.  Should you hurt her or fall from grace, your bloodsong and wings will be the price demanded.  Nothing will stop me from rending your heart from your chest.”

Tristan bowed formally to both gentlemen.  “I thank you for your forgiveness and acceptance.  Should I fail this time only the tears of dead stars will know where to find my soul.  There will be no need for you to wrest my heart from my chest; it will have ruptured long before you have time to reach me.”  The fanatical gleam in Ettlesworth’s eyes as he spoke confirmed the viscount’s words.

With the matter settled between them, Bellewolf rose from his chair and began to pace before the fire as Tristan ceased his own; instead the viscount seemed to close in on himself, a coil of  nervous, lethal energy ready to spring.  Afton cleared his throat, hoping to relieve some of the heavy tension gripping them.  “Now that we’ve cleared the air, how are we going to bring Angelica down?”

Tristan shook himself from his cloud of concentration.  “The simple truth.  It will take her by surprise especially once we get the support of her Lady Cavendish and the Assemblage.”

Bellewolf’s jaws nearly hit the floor.  “You intend to air this tangle in public?  I would also like to know how you intend to get Lady Cavendish to admit her mistake.”

A smug look crept into Ettlesworth’s golden eyes.  “There are many Graces given to our kind, most of them for the sole purpose of bewitching and confusing the mortals and protecting our secret.  Some of us have more control over this than others.  I can bend most people to my will without having to try.  Only my mother and other Darkkin don’t seem to be affected.”  His look darkened.  “How else do you think I managed to secure my first waltz with Bella?”

“You used mind control on Lady Jersey?”  Afton’s voice was incredulous.  Bellewolf was laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

Tristan shook his head.  “It wasn’t out right mind control; let’s just say she was open to suggestion.  How did you think I achieved such a coupe?  No one else had been able to get near her.  Between the two of you, I don’t think an entire division of the Queen’s Light Dragoon could have kept a better guard over her.  My fingers were the first she touched, the first dance with a gentlemen she didn’t consider family.  It was the first time her warrior spirit flickered to life.  She faced fire without the fear.”

“We just thought you charmed the old girl with your beautiful face.”  Bellewolf choked through his laughter.

Tristan flushed.  Even among the Darkkin he was among the most ethereally gorgeous.  His features were finely chiseled, angular, and strong.  His chin was stubborn and his cheek bones high.  His deep set blue eyes flashed with ice and fire, flickering with their golden glory when his beast was stirred.  A single look from him, should be more than enough to bend most members of the ton to his will, but when it came to Bella, he has pulled out all the stops.

Captivated by the beauty and legend of their kind, the mortals they lived amongst were suggestible.  It was easy to lead their thoughts to other tracks when they began to see too much.  Their speed and strength was easily concealed from the frailer beings they had sworn to protect; in return the mortals provided a sea of camouflage against the stealthy foes of the Assemblage.  Both races worked together in a delicate balance to preserve their way of life from the darkness that sought to destroy them.  Tristan had exploited his Graces shamelessly to ensure his future with Bella.

Amber fire ignited in the depths Ettlesworth’s eyes.  “Enough Wolf…This isn’t getting us anywhere.  We need to think.”

Afton, who had finally retrieved his jaw, threw a disgusted glance at his friends.  “I don’t know about the two of you, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the night arguing about what we’re going to do and just do it.  With the whole of the tribe working together, it shouldn’t be too hard to convince the rest of the guests Angelica set Tristan up to take the fall when she was caught with Mr. Faulkner Quinton.  The only problem I foresee is getting Angelica to mention the engagement.”

Tristan’s seraph features contorted into a mask of rage.  “That shouldn’t be much of a challenge all I need to do is tell her I’m breaking it off and her temper will do the rest.”

“As simple as that, it seems almost a shame to make the game too easy,” Bellewolf said, a wolfish grin stealing across his roughhewn features.  “I think we need to add another layer of fire to this challenge.”

Afton and Ettlesworth both followed Wolf’s passage to and fro across the rug.  The silence once again grew weighted.  Stepping into the breach the viscount voiced his question.  “What did you have in mind?”

Bellewolf’s beastly smile grew.  “Isabella has issued a challenge you can’t refuse.  Answer her call; capture her for the next waltz using whatever means necessary.  Lay aside the gentlemanly face you present to the world and seize the night; let your dragon shine in the face of propriety.  Let her know how you feel and make sure Angelica finds out.  Flaunt your treasure before the eyes of the world.”

Afton’s eyes began to smolder with anger as he listened to Andrew’s suggestion.  “You’re an unprincipled rake, Wolf.  Isabella is your ward, the sister Kitty never had, yet instead of protecting her you’re suggesting that Tristan compromise her in front of the entire ton.  If you weren’t my best friend I would call you out for concocting such a scheme.”

Wolf rounded on Afton, a telling quiver in his pure bass.  “Isabella is beyond our abilities to protect and persuade anymore, Freddie.  She isn’t the terrified little girl we once knew; she has been fighting against our restrictions for the last three years.  She has eluded us as none have before.  She has found her wings and has tasted the wild freedom of the stars.  Passion and fire now lead her away from the safety of the tribe into unknown heights.  We need to let her fly or she will wither.  Can you bring yourself to do that to her?”

The mighty Duke of Afton dropped back into his chair with the muffled thump.  “I had no idea we had lost all control over her.  Where has the fragile flower we fought to protect gone?”

Bellewolf returned to his desk and pulled several carefully folded news sheets from a drawer.  “I have a sneaking suspicion that she has become one of the press’s favorite heroes, stealing from the rich to give to the poor.”

Two heads, one raven dark, one fiery red, whipped around to face Wolf.  It was Tristan who spoke the name of the specter.  “The Mist Walker.  You think she’s the Mist Walker.  The jewel thief.”

Wolf nodded.  “I’ve had a queer feeling about it for a while, but what you’ve told me tonight just confirms it.  She can mist and she does it frequently.”

Afton’s face leached of color.  “How could we have been so blind?”

Tristan only smiled.  “She made sure you saw only what she wanted you to see, the spun glass little girl she once was, content with her books and music.  You were all so used to her quiet ways and disappearing acts you never gave it a second thought.  She hid in plain sight the entire time.  The oldest and simplest trick of our kind.  We’ll find out what the reasons for her actions are later, right now I have a waltz to secure.”  Without another word Tristan turned on his heel and quit the room.

Afton rose to follow, but turned to face his friend at the door.  “Well played, Wolf.  Now if you would only accept the fate destiny has handed you and Kitty, as Isabella has done all will be right with the world.”

Andrew’s smile grew cold.  “It will take much more than my acceptance of my fate to make things right in the world, Freddie.  I did what I had to do in order to protect both Isabella and Tristan.  Ettlesworth will keep her safe as we no longer can; however, there are other members of this Tribe I can still protect.  You will not tell Kitty the truth, Afton.  She’s not ready.”

Freddie’s dark eyes were nearly black in the firelight.  “You need to tell her Wolf.  One day she will discover for herself the Graces she was born with.  Her Darkkin side won’t slumber indefinitely.  She has felt the shift in the pattern of the world’s song and is beginning to question certain aspects of those around her.  Would you have her blindsided by the beast when it finally wakes?”

“One word to her about the matter, Afton, and I will have your liver and lights.”  Bellewolf’s tone was absolute.

Afton glowered.  “You’re a fool Wolf, but you have my word, I’ll say nothing to Kitty.  When she discovers the truth, it will be your hide she’ll come looking for not mine.”  The door slammed with a resounding crash as Freddie stormed out.





















































Chapter Four





Bella felt the shift in the fluid songs surrounding her as Bellewolf, Afton, and Ettlesworth left the ballroom one by one.  Another presence loomed close behind her as she moved through the parting crowd, her hand still glued to Marcus’s black clad arm.  She acknowledge those among the partygoers she recognized with a polite nod here and a teasing smile there, but she sensed the sudden urgency that gripped the captain as he passed by the throng that seemed to be growing.  The traces of a shrouded power continued to follow them amongst the guests.  Finally, Isabella couldn’t stand it a moment longer; the presence had been pressing against her sense all night, twitting them mercilessly.  She needed to see the faces of those hunting her.

She whirled, her ebony and white skirts flaring wide around her, wings undulating in the sudden breeze created by her spin.  Her silver eyes ignited with ill suppressed fury as she fixed her gaze on the massive, raven-hooded figures that were the Ravenhurst twins.  They were impressive specimens, sinfully handsome enough to hold their own against even the heart-wrenchingly beautiful features of the Darkkin, who were out in numbers tonight.  They loomed over her tiny five foot height by nearly two feet and seemed determined to close ranks on her.  A set of French doors leading to the deserted terrace were directly behind them.  Alfred, the elder of the two, reached to pull her hand free of the vice grip she had on Marcus’s arm.

A massive paw at odds with the rest of his elegant appearance that belied origins other than those of the haute ton, closed around Bella’s fragile wrist.  Suddenly she lost her hold on Marc, who was immediately swallowed by the guests.  Ravenhurst’s huge hand was icy as it touched Isabella’s seemingly overly warm skin.  For a moment the shock of the contact held the elder Ravenhurst frozen as he dared to meet her eyes for the first time.  Skin to skin and eye to eye they stood, Bella’s icy barriers destroyed as her true heart burned bright.  She hid nothing from the black chasm eyes of the rake before her.  Ancient fire flickered through her moon-bright gaze, allowing her captor to see the barest glimpse of the creature stirring beneath her façade.  The antique ring on her right hand began to glow, sending a warning screaming through her mind.  Run…

Isabella fought the urge, struggling to reestablish control.  The pulse coursing across her flaring senses was identical to the one that had chased her through the depths of her bleakest nightmares.  There was a monster concealed beneath the face of this gentleman.  Screwing her courage to the sticking point, she wrenched her wrist free of the frigid grasp, causing several onlookers to do a double take.  It seemed impossible that a lady as little as Bella would have the strength to break Ravenhurst’s iron grip, but in the blink of an eye she had torn loose, her Darkkin side trembling with a combination of fear and rage.

For the first time in fifteen years she looked her nemesis in the face and found her voice.  “Defiler!  Murderer….Monster….” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Ravenhurst reached for both of her wrists, his reflexes lightening swift.  This time he seized her fragile forearms in a grip that would have cracked the bones of a lesser being; roughly he hauled her upward, until her feet lifted free of the floor and they were once more eye to eye.  His smile was malicious, sending a shiver down Isabella’s stiff spine.

His voice was little more than a whisper, “You sling your words carelessly, little one.  You have no proof other than that whisper in your mind, who here would believe you?  The entire ton knows you rest upon the brink of madness, always hiding in the shadows and disappearing to god knows where at every function you attend.  Ettlesworth shattered your safe little world three years ago and your wings with it.  The first of the Ladies found and destroyed by her own consort.  We couldn’t have planned it better.  Tonight when they find your lifeless form, it will break Ettlesworth and tip the scales back into our favor.”

Alfred’s brother Bernard came up beside the two, laughing as he hid Bella from the onlookers, who had been distracted by a sudden ruckus at the other end of the room.  Silkily he said, “Curiosity killed many a cat, poppet.  You made our catch too easy, had you kept walking your tall friend might have been able to save you.  Now you’ll join your parents in the cold dark underworld.”  Without whisper of sound, they whisked her through the doors and onto the terrace.

Bella’s resolve hardened into steel as she listened to the gloating pair.  Her tongue like her soul would not be still.  “I’m the last of the Moncreiffe line, you saw to that.  I die and the secret goes with me; somehow I don’t think the Hag will appreciate that.  Without all the shards, you two are little more than a pair of flesh eating monsters.”

Her bitter words gave them pause as Alfred’s grip loosened ever so slightly.  “Damnation,” he swore, “she’s right.”  It was the opening Isabella needed.

She aimed a punishing kick at her captor’s groin.  The steel rod running through the high heel of her slipper landed true and sank deep.  Alfred dropped his prisoner and crumpled, howling in pain.  Bella took off like a frightened hind; Bernard too stunned by the sudden change of events failed to give chase as he stood staring at his brother. 

As the doors leading to the ballroom slammed behind their prey, Bernard finally retrieved his jaw from the floor and addressed his writhing twin.  “Bloody hell, Alfie,” he swore.  “How could you let the wretched little monster get away?”

Alfie’s pain glazed eyes locked onto his brother.  With a well placed jab of his heel, he answered his brother’s question.  “Simple,” he ground out.  “Like that.” 

Bernard hit the cold ground beside his brother, squirming in aguish.  “Okay, stupid question,” he squeaked.

Alfie managed a strangled smile through the pain.  “Ready to go after her?”

“No…” came the pinched moan.

“I thought not,” he added.

Bella meanwhile put as much distance between herself and the Ravenhurst twins as possible.  In a blur of skirts and wings she raced back into the ballroom, only to collide with a phalanx of Assemblage guardians, Talon at the fore.  The captain was among them, torn between terror and amusement at her sudden disappearance.  The faces of the others gathered were stony, void of expression, all save for her godmother, Lady Emmaline’s; it was twisted in fright.  The trilling notes of another waltz trickled across the open expanse of the ballroom at odds with the teeming atmosphere that surrounded the tense group containing, Lord Breckenridge, Lady Emmaline, Lord Blackburn, Kitty, and several older lords on the High Counsel.  A dark haired young man with chocolate brown eyes who bore an unmistakable resemblance to Lady Emmaline’s late husband, the tenth Earl of Taverton brought up the rear.  Noticeably absent were Afton, Bellewolf, and Ettlesworth, or so she thought.  The stranger’s dark eyes hinted at a commotion across the room heading in their direction.

Recognition glimmered in his eyes as their gazes briefly met, Aidan Sinclair Viscount Islington, bowed to her as she drew to a halt.  His words were the merest whisper.  “My Lady.”  He knew what she was, just as she knew that he was the last member of the Gregorian court.  The three tardy members were quickly closing the gap and forming ranks around their stray weryling.  The profound silence caused by her departure from the room had been deafening.  The world around the Darkkin seemed to freeze as one of their brightest stars disappeared into the void.  The numerous other ton members gathered didn’t seem to notice and went right on with their reveling.

Breckenridge had been the first to notice that the arthritic lurcher, Talon had surged to his feet at the first faint changes in the air.  He had turned in the direction Marc and Bella had gone after the conclusion of their dance, the Ravenhurst twins trailing in their wake.  Now there was absolutely no sign of Marc, Bella, or the Ravenhurst twins.  The intense stillness around him battered his senses like a hammer to iron.  Immediately, Breckenridge, a senior member of the High Counsel and an advocate of the tribe’s secrecy, dropped his shields and opened all his senses, hoping to catch some trace of her.  He found it in the burning rage and slight tremor of fear flanked by two massive voids.  He didn’t hesitate, he raced toward the doors.  The other Darkkin close to Isabella instantly knew something was amiss and followed.

Using one of the rarest Graces among the Darkkin that of Keshilii sight, Breckenridge watched through stone, mortar, wood, and glass as the two massive shades manhandled the young lady he had come to love like his own.  Their intent was clear, murder, but those weren’t the only currents passing across his vision, there was also the burning light of truth and an acceptance of events long past. 

Bella’s tortured dreams were now flesh and bone, staring her in the face.  She knew what the monsters holding her had done and she was prepared to fight.  Although the elderly marquis couldn’t hear the words that passed between them, he knew whatever Bella had said had given them pause.  She seized the moment and attacked.  One of the shades went down, its pain pulsing out in huge waves.  She broke free, becoming little more than a blur until she exploded back into the ballroom and into the heart of the panic frozen group that now surrounded her.

Not caring who saw him, Breckenridge stooped down and pulled her into a hug that should have cracked her ribs.  The wings of her costume trembled violently as she pressed closer, finally allowing her emotions to reassert themselves.  Into the elderly gentleman’s shoulder she whispered the truth.  “They killed my father, Ben, killed him for a cursed legacy.  One of nothing but shadows, pain, madness, and death.  Please tell me there’s something more remaining in this world.”

Her friends and guardians pressed in around her, Talon resting his huge grizzled head on her shoulder.  Lord Benjamin Alistair St. John Breckenridge, the legendary Stone Marquis of Fleehedge, fought to find words as he held back tears of his own as he felt three familiar Darkkin pulses approaching at Bella’s back.  His crystalline green gaze drifted upward as he spied Tristan and Freddie as they toward to the small group clustered around Bella.  Tristan’s eyes were alight with wrath and terror as he threw a withering glance at his larger cousin, Marcus, who was trying his utmost to disappear into his own skin and rightly so.

Slowly the elderly lord loosened his death grip on her and pushed a few wispy curls from her teary eyes.  “There is still much good to be found in this world, child.  All you have to do is know where to look.  You just stared your nightmares in the eye, making the shadows around you seem heavy and endless.  But now you know their true faces, leaving only the truth to shine through.  Your demons are no longer your own; they now belong to the entire tribe.  We will hunt the Ravenstalkers together and bring peace to your family’s memory, just you watch little one.”

He paused, a twinkle sparkling in his eyes.  “Just out of curiosity, what did you do to the Ravenhurst brothers that brought them to their knees?”

Color suddenly returned to her bone white face.  “I used a trick Tristan taught me ages ago, right after my parents died.  He thought by knowing how to defend myself from the monsters, I might be able to sleep.”  After a deep breath she forced herself to continue.  “He showed me where and how to kick.”

Several of the peers gathered cringed, casting pained glances in Ettlesworth’s direction.  Tristan ignored the looks, closing the distance between them, muttering as reached for her right hand.  Knowing just how close he had come to losing her forever, had rubbed the viscount’s already abused senses raw.  His Darkkin side was howling for release.  He fought for control as he breached the circle around her.  Breckenridge saw his heir approach and the feral glow igniting in the younger man’s eyes.  Slowly the others, who had closed ranks around the smallest member of their tribe, drew back allowing Ettlesworth to approach while cutting off Isabella’s retreat.  The soft strains of the night’s second waltz swelled.

Before she knew what was happening, Bella was spun about, an elegant, steely strong hand locking about her slender waist, her left hand clamped to a silk clad shoulder in an iron hold.  Heat rushed into her chilled blood as she went into the waltz with the effortless grace of her kind.  The scarred mark on her back illuminated, casting a silvery glow over both of them.  Her surprise gave way to fury and recognition as a long silenced voice murmured in her ear.  “If you had been wise you would have used those tricks I taught you on my doltish cousin, as well as the Ravenhursts.  I will tell you this much, however, sweetings; they won’t work on me.”

Bella’s glorious quicksilver eyes leapt with fire and challenge.  “If anyone deserves such rough treatment, it should be you, you boorish lout.” She spat.  “Three years of stony silence and you come storming back into my life like it’s your god given right.”

Tristan’s grip on her waist tightened, drawing her closer.  “It is and neither you nor any of the others is going to dispute that fact.”

Bella’s chin tilted, her spine stiffened.  Teeth and talons bared she had been bracing for this fight for the last three years.  “You forfieted that right the day you fled the Court and tore my heart.  Let’s not forget the little matter of your engagement while we’re at it.  Even if you were free to pursue me, which you aren’t, the answer would still be the same.”

Ettlesworth’s laughter was heady and rich.  “How can you give me an answer to a question that I haven’t even asked?”  His amber gaze locked with her mirror bright ones in a silent battle of wills.  Both held strong as the music around them swelled and intensified, a reflection of the souls that were once more in perfect harmony.  The energy surrounding them was no longer clashing; instead it embraced the pair as they glided across the floor.  They were as much a sight to behold this time around as they had been during their first dance at Almack’s on that long forgotten and treasured night. 

Bit by bit, Bella began to relax as Tristan lead her around the floor, which was quickly emptying as the other dancers caught sight the living gem they were witnessing.  They backed down to watch the breathing art of a Qvaishini matched pair of Darkkin as they finally stood face to face, no holds barred.  The warm sense of safety and acceptance embraced her like a lover as she lost herself to the music and Tristan’s guidance, all the while fearing it might all be a dream that would be snatched from her when she woke.  Deep in the shadows of her heart she knew there was still a battle she still had to fight. 

Swamped with rioting emotions, Isabella knew she had to ask the questions that had been eating at her since he had fled to the Continent.  Her eyes ablaze, she found her voice.  “You have much to answer for Tristan; you know it as surely as your heart beats within your chest.  You shattered mine when you fled, leaving it broken and bleeding.”

Tristan removed his mask and let it fall to the floor unheeded as he lifted Bella’s away, baring her angel perfect features to his starving eyes for the first time in three years.  Damning the cannons of propriety, he pulled her to his chest and buried his nose in her fragrant curls.  He had lost three years to his pride and stupidity; nothing was going to interfere now.  He had her back in his arms and he was never letting go, no matter what she threw at him.  He would love her until the end of time and beyond even if it meant the damning of his own soul.  He had to make things right once and for all; there could be no more hiding. 

His voice was deep and halting as he destroyed the walls of silence he had erected between them over the course of his self-imposed exile.  “I know I have caused you immeasurable pain, Bella, but believe me when I say that it was never what I intended.  When you misted before my eyes that day at the Court, something within me was forever changed.  A shadowed part of me I never knew existed stirred in the depths of my soul.  Emotions and sensations erupted within me, casting my well ordered world into chaos.  I didn’t know what to do.  You were gone, reality reeled; my mind rebelled.  Anger rose to the fore.  It was the first emotion in the maelstrom I recognized.  I seized it with both hands and held on for dear life.

Having no idea what you had done or what had precipitated your flight, I made my way back to the house, your faithful Talon trailing in my wake.  Over the course of that walk I convinced myself that you were nothing but a coquette out to steal my heart, only to smash on the stones once you grew tired of it.  My anger became my shield, the one thing in the plethora of skills and emotions you had awakened I knew was safe.  The songs of the world flared around me, telling me to return to make sure that you were unharmed.  Another part of me was screaming to be released to follow you into the wonder of clouds, storms, cold, and stars.  I didn’t know what to do.  For the first time in my life, I was afraid of what the future would hold for me.  You captured me so easily and all of a sudden I was out to sea with no bearing to guide me.

I raced back to the only safe shores I had ever known, my books.  I returned to Court only long enough to assure myself that you had gotten back safely and to gather my things.  I never said anything to Andrew or Freddie about what passed between us until today.  I was ashamed of what they might have thought had they known the truth.  My silence like my anger proved to be my own worst enemy.  Because of my behavior both Freddie and Andrew threaten to have my liver and lights if I went near you again.”

Bella shifted slightly so she could see his eyes, surprise clearly written on her face.  “When was this?”

Tristan flushed.  “About three days after I decamped from the Court.  I was at Dover awaiting the next packet to Calais, knowing they would be wondering about what happened; I sent a missive stating that irreconcilable differences had arisen between us and that I was heading to the Continent for an extended stay.  I also sent the direction of my grandmother’s ruined estate in Austria so they would have a place to reach me in case anything untoward occurred.

Their letters arrived almost as soon as I did.  I’ll spare you the exact verbiage, but to summarize, they called me a rake of the first order, stating that if I should return from the Continent alive they would take care of what Napoleon failed to achieve.  It seemed like the last nail in my coffin, with the silent breach between us and the rightful anger of your guardians against me, I didn’t think I would ever be able to set things right.  The only links I had remaining to you were Aunt Em and my uncle, Lord Breckenridge.  They would write occasionally, but any mention of you was veiled, always hinting at the pain I had so callously cast upon you.

The days passed, turning into weeks as I set out on a mission to uncover the forgotten lore of the Darkkin, hoping against hope I would be able to discover a way to save us both from the bond that seemed destine to destroy us.  It took me three years to learn how to listen to the song that was my only source of solace and peace.  It was your whisper that kept me going and finally made me embrace the creature I had worked so hard to hide.  It was you who made me realize I was asking the wrong questions.  I knew I needed to stop running, that I needed to return.

I heard the shift in the songs and felt the tremors in the earth.  The air was thick with the blood of war and heavy with foreboding as I returned to Heartflame, my grandparents’ fire ravaged estate near Salzburg one final time on the off chance there might be a letter.  There was.  It was a tattered missive from Bellewolf that had managed to make it across Napoleon’s lines.  His note was brief and cryptic, asking for a parlay at the Court over Christmas and a very speaking postscript.  Two simple words.  Mist Walker.”

Tristan’s gaze grew thoughtful.  “He was beginning to suspect you had more Graces than he originally supposed, wasn’t he?”

Bella’s gaze dropped.  “Yes,” she whispered.  “He knew what I was.  Kitty unintentionally told him about the mark and my scars.  He gave two rings into my keeping, making me promise to keep what I had discovered secret.  The reason I took up my cause.”

Tristan’s eyes darkened.  “And what cause might that be?”

“The song in the void.” She breathed.  “I found it in the darkness, the reflection of my song and soul as I flew.  It is my secret and my alone to keep until you have proven once and for all that you really want the bond we share.”

Abruptly she pulled away from him, her eyes a perfect reflection of his.  “How do you intend to escape the noose looped ‘round your neck?

For the first time Bella caught a glimpse of Tristan’s Darkkin smile as he looked down at her.  “I’m working on that right now.”

Isabella’s head snapped up, a suspicious gleam in her eyes.  “And just what is it that you’re doing?”

“Building a pyre beneath a witch,” he replied silkily as he sent his gaze roaming across the room to where Angelica was holding court.  The look on her face was one of pure venom and ill-suppressed fury.  The wide expanse of floor separating them was now clear of other couples, giving Lady Angelica an unobstructed view of her prey.  Bella and Tristan were the only ones remaining, once again, with the eyes of the ton upon them.

Bella’s dark brow arched in query.  “And just how do you intend to do that?”

Tristan’s smile was angelic.  “By compromising you, right here, right now.”

Slowly, he looped her through the last remaining strains of the waltz.  Pulling her as close to him as humanly possible, he broke the pregnant silence that had settled over them.  “Are you ready to fight for what you believe in?”

Bella’s eyes were all fire and glory.  “The gauntlet has been tossed; let them come.”  As she spoke the final notes of the song faded from the air that was once more teeming with invisible pulses.  The magic of the dance had worked its spell between Bella and Tristan, the walls of both withered to ash, souls open.  It was in this thrumming, shimmering moment Tristan finally did what he had been yearning to do since that long ago waltz at Almack’s; he kissed Bella, long and hard, his heart and spirit screaming with joy as she melted against him.  The world around the pair fell away as their songs soared to the stars, melody and countermelody, playing off each other in a fabled symphony of light and sound.  The two still had a tough road to travel, but the first and most painful steps had been taken. 

As the ton looked on in awe and astonishment, the other members of the Assemblage began to cheer as the shattered foundations of Bella and Tristan’s broken bond were slowly pieced back together.  For the first time in nearly four years it looked as if things were going to turn around for the Darkkin youngsters when an infuriated female shriek shattered the bliss that encompassed the tribe as they witnessed the beginning of a Qvaishini bond.  All heads, except those of Bella and Tristan, turned to catch sight the enraged Juno covering the distant between her rumored fiancé and herself with ground eating strides.  Lady Angelica’s hand lifted to deliver a punishing blow to the smaller girl as she pulled away from Tristan.

Little by little, the world returned to intrude on Bella and Tristan’s stolen piece of perfection.  Bella was the first to break contact reconnecting her toes to the cool floor beneath her as she pulled away from Tristan, her cheeks for the first time in months bright with color.  She kept her eyes closed as she leaned into his chest and sighed, content to remain where she was, still immune to the shocked stares of more than six hundred members of the ton.  It was the subtle, almost undetectable shift in Ettlesworth’s stance that warned her even as she heard the faint whistle of Angelica’s hand as it whipped through the air toward her face.

With a speed that seemed to defy the laws of nature, Bella whirled, her skirts flaring around her as she caught Angelica’s wrist in a punishing grip that brought the older woman up short.  Fire blazed in her eyes as she tightened her hold and twisted wrenching a whimper of pain from Angelica’s lips.  Bella tightened her grasp once more, exerting every ounce of steely strength she possessed against her nemesis, forcing the blonde to her knees in front of them. 

The raven haired beauty’s words were soft and icy.  “Release him from his troth, Angelica, or the ton will hear the truth behind your trap.”

Angelica fought back the groan in her throat as she stared into the luminously angry eyes of her tiny captor.  “I’ll release him from his troth only after he’s seen your heart wrenched from your chest and fed to the wolves.” 

Bella’s fingers flexed biting into the cold, pillowy flesh of her tormentor’s wrist.  Her mirror-like eyes were feral, spitting liquid metal.  “You will relinquish your hold on him.  He was never yours to tamper with.”

Angelica struggled to pull her wrist free, only to succeed in twisting her arm even more.  “What force do you possess that makes you think you can command me?”

Bella leaned her head back slightly and looked into Tristan’s shimmering amber eyes.  “We possess the secret that will mark you as the harlot you are.”  Her smile was lethal and cunning, a Darkkin about to make a prime kill.  “Mr. Faulkner Quinton.”

         With those three simple words, Lady Angelica Sinclair, owner of the nastiest tongue among the upper ten thousand, froze.  “You can’t possibly know.  You were near death; I felt you fall.  The demons should have had you with the destruction of that single pathetic thread.”

         Tristan’s melodious baritone broke in.  “She didn’t.  It was Afton and Bellewolf who figured it out.”

         “Liars!”  Angelica shrieked fighting to break free of Bella’s inhumanly strong grip.

         Isabella’s eyes burned with the rightful fury of her kind.  “Save your screams; you have your choice.  Release him or face the truth of your actions.  Which will it be?”

         Angelica froze, held prisoner by the liquid flames undulating in her foe’s eyes and the malevolent whisper of her words.  Her face hardened, revealing the void beneath her brittle façade.  “Do your worst,” she spat.

         Bella’s eyes bore through her as she, tightened the death grip she held on Angelica’s wrist.  “Very well.”  She pulled her silvered orbs away from her prisoner’s frozen blue eyes and met Tristan’s.  He nodded to Afton and Bellewolf, who had been watching across the room.

         The crowd parted before the two like waves against the bow of a gallon.  Between them they held a red haired man approximately Tristan’s height.  Like Angelica, he fought to break free of his captors and flee, but the duke and marquis held firm.  The looks on the faces of the three Gregorian members was thunderous as the crowd closed in around them; their intent was clear as the gap between the two groups diminished.  Tristan kept hold of Bella channeling every last ounce of strength he possessed into her bruised heart.  Angelica was now trembling with a combination of fear and rage.  Bella stood over her like an avenging angel, her wings quivering with anticipation.

         Once the two groups merged, pulling the schemers to the middle of the semicircle they formed, Tristan broke the weighted silence that had encompassed the room, addressing the ton at large.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I beg your indulgence on a matter of the utmost importance.  The fates of more than one rest on the outcome of this night’s work.”

         Lady Cavendish strode through the crowd, seeking to gain the attention of the pair that had finally brought her wretched granddaughter to her knees.  Catching Tristan’s eye, she voiced the question that was on the minds of everyone present.  “What are you claiming Lady Angelica has done?”

         Ettlesworth’s eyes were liquid flame as he ended the crowd’s curiosity.  “Both of you know well the disgrace you stand accused of.  Entrapment.”

“During the Christmas season at Bloom Court, Angelica sought to gain both my wealth and title through a false engagement, Lady Cavendish.  You and my mother saw her in the arms of a gentleman with bright red hair, but you failed to ascertain his identity.  You jumped to the conclusion it was me, even when I denied the claim.  Both of you knew that I wanted and had nothing to do with the spiteful harlot, yet you persisted in pressing the connection, knowing full well the pain it would cause an innocent heart.  I held my silence knowing eventually the truth would be uncovered.”

         Lady Cavendish was trembling with fury at her thwarted plans as she stared at the true culprit.  “And just who is this beast you claim is responsible for Lady Angelica’s disgrace?”

         Tristan’s smile sent shivers down the spines of the assembled guests as he replied, “Mr. Faulkner Quinton, a sycophant of yours these last five years.  Funny you don’t recognize him.”

         Lady Cavendish paled at Tristan’s words and turned her attention to the accused.  “Mr. Quinton, does he speak the truth?”

         Mr. Faulkner Quinton went limp between Bellewolf and Afton, his color suspiciously high as he floundered for a reply.  “They have no proof, your ladyship, just their own twisted ideas, nothing more.”

         Bella’s brilliant silver gaze slid from Tristan’s angry golden one and locked with the watery blue eyes of Mr. Quinton.  “You lie,” she said softly.  “Tell them the truth.”  Mr. Quinton cringed and convulsed as some unseen force began to work its will upon him.  Isabella’s gaze never wavered; it simply grew brighter and stronger.  In a velvet whisper she spoke once more.  “The truth.”

         Mr. Quinton convulsed.  “All right, it was me.  I was the one caught with her at the Court, but it was Angelica’s idea to lay the blame on Ettlesworth, not mine.” 

Bella’s impossibly bright eyes released their captive as Angelica began her struggles anew, screeching.  “Lying bastard, how could you betray me like this?  We were almost there; she was supposed to die…”  The words were the last Lady Angelica uttered as the air was sucked from her lungs, leaving her gasping for breath as Bella released her wrist.

The room went silent as the imprecations of Angelica’s admission began to sink in.  Afton and Bellewolf loosened their hold on Mr. Quinton and sent him stumbling into Lady Angelica, who was just beginning to rise from the chilled marble floor.  The two collided, coming to rest at the feet of the enraged Lady Cavendish. 

As the pair struggled to rise, Bellewolf turned to the elder lady.  “Madame, you and your entourage are no longer welcome here.  Please take you leave immediately, your granddaughter has threatened my ward and nearly destroyed the reputation of one of my best friends.”

Lady Cavendish’s shoulders sagged in defeat, knowing there was no possible way to repair the damaged that had been wrought.  She was now an outcast among the ladies she used to preside over.  Stooping, she seized her ward’s ear and forced the belittled woman to her feet.  Her cane whipped out and connected with the shins of the confused Mr. Quinton, driving him to his feet as well.  The silent crowd parted before the trio as though they were a social toxin.  The unnatural quiet continued until the sound of the front door’s soft click echoed across the huge space.  As the faint sound of carriage wheels trickled in through the open terrace doors, a cheer went up as the gentlemen began to clap.

Afton and Bellewolf returned their attention to the pair standing stock-still in the middle of the empty floor.  Tristan’s arms were still looped tightly about Bella’s narrow waist, holding her as close as her wings and wide skirts would allow.  The sparks flying between the two were tangible as Bellewolf studied them, knowing full well what he had to do.  Bella would fight him tooth and talon before she would acquisit; she never surrendered without a battle and Tristan still had to atone for his doltish behavior.  He laughed to himself over the fact that he was terrified of a slip of a girl a mere quarter his size and screwed his courage to the sticking point.

Bella’s mirror-like eyes skittered from Tristan’s as she caught sight of Andrew’s approach.  The fading sparks in her eyes rekindled as she saw a knowing smile stretch across his rugged features.  She braced herself for what was coming.  Glancing over Tristan’s shoulder, she saw Freddie grinning like a buffoon.  Andrew and Tristan had her right where they wanted her.  There was no possible way she could wiggle free now.  The panic she had been keeping in check suddenly returned with a vengeance.

As if sensing Bella’s chaotic thoughts, Tristan tightened his hold, murmuring in her ear.  “You knew this would happen eventually, Bella, so you might as well accept it with good grace.  You’ve been compromised; quiet willingly I might add, before the eyes of the entire ton.  You faced down the most lethal hydra in the ton to save me.  No one here will dispute the fact you are mine.”

Bella’s eyes flashed.  “I did what I had to in order to break Angelica’s hold on you; it’s a fate I wouldn’t wish on a dog.  I owe you nothing more Tristan; walk away while you still can.  You know what I do to you and the pain our bond causes you.  Don’t be a fool, just let me be.”

Tristan’s smile twisted slightly.  “You know I can’t do that, Bella.  I may be fooling myself in assuming you want this as much as I do, but I’m not giving you up without a fight.  You know that.”

Bella flashed him a self deprecating smile.  “You know I’ll fight you every step of the way on this.  Things are no longer what they once were, Tristan.  I’m not the young innocent you fell for that long ago night.  There are secrets about my past that would send most men fleeing for their lives.  I’ve released a creature that has no control over its actions.  A demon of ice and fire.”

Ettlesworth’s hold tightened around her.  “Don’t Bella, just don’t.  You can talk and fight all you want.  I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, so you might as well accept your fate.”

Isabella’s eyes flickered angrily in the candlelight as she suddenly began to battle against his hold.  “You preening lout.  You think I’m just going to surrender because you have me backed into a corner?  Let me remind you that it was you who did the leaving in the first place.  You have three years of silence and stupidity to answer for, but you also have to take into account that people change.  You have no idea how our families and friends realigned themselves after your decampment.  The lines in the sand have shifted.”

Tristan’s smile was dark.  “Which side of the line to you rest on?”

Bella’s face was bleak.  “That is for me to know and for you to find out.”