Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 407

Chapter 407: Son of fate
Ford’s eyes widened at the wight’s matter-of-fact declaration.

“They can’t burn the forest!” Mia cried out in alarm. “It’s special! It had the healing waters in that strange clearing, the red trees with blooms that cut, and so much more!”

“Can we stop them? Without hurting anyone?” Ford asked from beside her.

“Stop them,” The wight swayed slightly as it stared at them.

“I must talk to the king,” Anaisa put in. “I can clarify everything. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“Gone and messed everything up again, eh? What have you lot done this time?” Denholm sneered as he climbed the last few stairs on the far side of the bed.

“Nothing compared to everything you’ve done,” Mia narrowed her eyes at the man. Ford stepped closer to her, a bit protectively, and reached out to retake her hand.

The action didn’t go unnoticed.

“Finally made good on your little crush, did you, Ford?” Denholm mocked, making Ford’s ire rise. “Surprised she settled for a fatherless brat, but then again, her aunt went from daughter of a Count to wife of a penniless farmer, so she hadn’t the best examples in her life, I suppose.”

“No one cares about your opinions,” Trace, apparently numb to whatever barbs Denholm had been throwing out since their collective kidnapping, rolled his eyes.

“Not quite fatherless, though, was I?” Ford remembered Denholm’s laughter at the sight of the wooden ring. It made his blood boil that the man had known the truth for so long. Before Ford himself did.

Denholm, the deplorable scoundrel, had known Ford’s true parentage before anyone else, and that hurt some deeply-held pride that the young man didn’t even know he’d had.

The man tilted his head with a widening smile.

“Did you figure it out? Finally put it all together? Anaisa tell you, was that it? She broke the news to you that you didn’t have some long lost father who died in pursuit of a fortune to provide for the family he loved?

“How does it feel? To know that my father, who raised me in luxury and gave me everything I could have ever wanted, including an engagement to the princess of a kingdom, used your mother as a common doxy and left her with child without a word? That he never thought twice about leaving you both to starve in your forsaken excuse for a country?”

The words cut deeper than Ford expected, and with a roar, he shot forward, tackling Denholm to the ground.

He wasn’t held back by a broken leg this time. There were no injuries to speak of, and Ford had an added advantage.

Invisible, he pummeled Denholm’s stupid face while the man tried to fight off an unseen attacker.

“Gah! What the! Argh, the tree!” Denholm wailed, covering his head with his arms. He rolled suddenly, managing to throw Ford off balance.

Ford had never trained in fighting of any kind. He knew enough not to get picked on in the mines by bigger men, but wasn’t formally taught any sort of technique or strategy.

All he had on his side at the moment was invisibility, and rage.

They were enough.

Denholm looked around, his eyes narrowed, and one beginning to swell. That brought Ford some satisfaction, remembering his own black eye he’d suffered at Denholm’s hands so long ago. He began to feel hot, very hot, and a subtle tug of Denholm’s lips upward let him know the source of the sensation.

Sweat slid between his shoulder blades as he moved in a wide circle as quickly as he could and kicked Denholm from behind.

The man whirled and grabbed hold of Ford’s foot before he could withdraw again for another attack, and the pair grappled, each not letting go of his hold on the other as Ford struggled to keep his balance.

“Stop,” The wight intoned.

Suddenly Ford felt normal again, the magical heat gone. But he was also… quite visible.

Denholm smiled evilly and shoved Ford’s foot into the air, sending him careening back to fall onto the wide, decorative bedspread.

“Stupid boy. You’ll never be as good as the real thing. Come to think of it, you may not even be my father’s mistake. You might be Hector’s. That would probably suit you better. Anaisa’s miserable father was dumb enough to get himself manipulated and killed despite all his advantages.”

“Your father didn’t survive all that much longer,” Anaisa reminded. “Leave Ford alone.”

Denholm laughed again, seeming even more amused than before. “Don’t tell me you intend to claim this b—”

“Don’t you use that word!” Mia snarled, stepping forward.

“This boy,”  Denholm delighted in changing his phrasing slightly to provoke Mia further. “You’re going to claim him into your family? What a disgrace. How pathetic!”

“Can you shut his blasted mouth so we don’t have to listen to his inane chatter?” Trace asked the wight. “I’m sick of it, and I’d like to actually discuss solutions to our current problem. You suppressed Denholm’s magic, so it’s all falling on me until you let his come back.”

He turned away for a moment, shoulders tensed, towards the sleeping Emperor, and Ford ducked his head.

Had he unwittingly endangered everyone, starting a fistfight on a large bed with a sleeping entity who could destroy his entire race if awoken?

Shame filled him to the brim. His own petty feelings were nothing, and yet he’d let them take hold. That wasn’t how a man acted. His neck burned to the point that he wondered if Denholm was using his magic again.

“Silence,” The wight told Denholm before turning to Trace. “Speak.”

“Thank you,” Trace turned away from the emperor and sighed. “It will be a lot better without him interrupting and provoking everyone. I kind of wish you’d hogtie him and gag him, but I don’t suppose that’s possible.”

“Speak plans,” The wight urged, leaning forward.

“Yes, of course,” Anaisa put in. “The first step is to let me get a message to King Harold. I’m a former Countess, he should listen to me.”

The being looked at her for a long moment before turning away.

“Come.”