Author's Note - *does the 200 reviews dance* Wow, thanks so much everyone for continuing to give your thoughts and praise on the story. It makes writing it all worthwhile. Here's the next installment, just for my fellow Mina-Malachite fans. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dark Pasts and Brighter Futures

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Mina sighed somewhat heavily as she roamed about the grounds, Zaire faithfully trailing at her side. Even after Malachite had returned, the cat refused to leave her. Her husband had been somewhat flabbergasted by it at first, but after a week or so he gave up trying to separate them. She even overheard him mentioning to his uncle that he was actually somewhat glad she had the cat with her, for protection. Though Mina wasn’t entirely sure if he meant that for her specifically, or as the incubator of their unborn child. More than likely the latter.

The blonde chewed at her lower lip, lost a little into her own thoughts as she meandered, one hand absently rubbing across her swollen middle. Her son was still strong and healthy, according to the healers, everything developing normally. And still as rambunctious as ever, bruising more than one of her ribs these past few weeks. The baby wasn’t what was causing her current state of absent-minded brooding, however. Rather his father was the sole cause of that, unsurprisingly.

Mina moved through the gardens on bare, silent feet for another few moments, but eventually the sharp sounds of arguing reached her ears. At her side Zaire tensed, his head lifting sharply and letting out a disgruntled rumble at the disturbance. Mina herself frowned a little, though she reached out to lay a calming hand on the white beast’s head.

“Easy boy,” she murmured softly, soothing him. The young Queen blew out a sigh then, having already guessed the source of the shouting. “It’s just my mother and Alexandrite. Again.”

Sure enough, after the two of them continued a little farther along the path, they came across the pair. Deep into yet another heated argument, probably over something minor and ridiculous. Mina winced as she neared, her empathy picking up on what their shouted words and hateful accusations didn’t say. There was a deep resonance of pain coming from both of them, and sadness so strong it almost pushed the young Queen back a step. Loathe to feel either of them hurting, Mina quickly stepped forward and interceded.

“Mother! Alexandrite! Please, that’s enough.” Both turned sharply toward her at that, and Mina took note of the slightly guilty expressions that came across the both of them. The fact that they argued so incessantly upset Mina after all, and in her condition everyone seemed extra determined to not upset her in any way, not wanting it to have an adverse affect on the baby. In this one instance, Mina was not above abusing that fact to the fullest.

“There, you see?” Psyche suddenly growled somewhat brusquely. “Try to attempt to keep your barbarous ways under control, Earthling, lest you send my daughter into premature labor.” The dark-haired warrior scowled down at the former queen, face darkening.

“My barbarous ways, is it? Mayhap if you kept your shrewish, harpy tongue still for more than ten seconds, your daughter wouldn’t have cause to be upset, now would she?”

“Harpy?!” Psyche near-screeched, chest heaving with the insult. “Shrew?!”

“Alexandrite!” Mina near-yelled then, in order to break up the impending shouting-match. Immediately the gruff man’s thunderous expression cleared, and he turned to her with a much more pleasant look.

“Yes, Mina?”

“Perhaps you would take a walk with me,” she suggested, somewhat desperate.

Alexandrite sighed, but began moving away from her mother readily enough. “Anything for you, dearling,” he teased, smiling faintly, though the sentiment didn’t quite reach his eyes. Mina didn’t need to see that indicator however, to know that his attempt at levity was a false one. Though Alexandrite was very different from her husband, in some ways the older warrior was very much like Malachite. In this instance, he was exactly like her mate.

Arguing like this with Psyche hurt him. Deeply. Though if not for her empathy, Mina would have never known that truth, as it was kept so completely from his face and demeanor that it was impossible to tell.

Behind them Psyche seemed to huff a little to herself before stalking off toward the palace, no doubt to fetch her attendants, robes swishing angrily in her wake.

Mina watched her go with a pained sigh, then turned to begin leading the older man in another direction. After a few moments Alexandrite broke the somewhat uneasy silence between them.

“Was there something specific you wanted of me, or were you just trying to separate the two children before we started pulling each others’ hair out?”

Mina blanched a little guiltily at the amusedly self-demeaning tone of his deep voice, but lifted her chin somewhat stubbornly. “There was a reason I asked you to come with me,” she insisted. When his brow lifted in question, she sighed. “Something I wished to ask you, actually. Ah . . . about Malachite.” Mina fidgeted a little when his expression became more guarded.

“If there’s something you wish to know about my nephew, it’s probably best if you ask him, dearling.” He gave her a slightly admonishing look. “Playing the middle has never appealed to me. And it wouldn’t hurt for you both to start communicating to each other a little more.”

“Well that’s exactly my point,” Mina insisted. “He won’t. I have tried to get him to open up to me.” Alexandrite winced a little, and the blond at his side nodded. “It was very much like talking to that stone planter over there. I got about as much of a reaction out of him as I would have the topiary.”

Alexandrite sighed somewhat heavily, running a hand back through his short-cropped hair. “Mal . . . isn’t the most vocal of men, dearling—,”

“Oh I’ve gleaned that much for myself,” she interrupted blandly. “And I know that that isn’t likely to change,” she continued, when the other man started to reply. Her tone turned softer, somewhat resigned. “I realize that Malachite is a man full grown and it is foolish to think or to hope that he might alter his ways this late in his life. All I’m asking of you is to help me understand.” Her blue eyes became pleading, then. “There has to be a reason why he’s become so guarded. No one shuts their emotions down so completely without a cause.” When Alexandrite still balked, Mina continued. “It has been . . . very hard,” she revealed, “not knowing what he feels. He speaks so little, I know almost nothing about him. Not knowing what he’s feeling just makes things that much more uncomfortable—especially for me, as an empath. Maybe . . . maybe if I understood why he holds himself back so completely, it might not hurt so much,” she finished softly then, head hanging. Noting the sad change in her tone, Zaire gently rubbed his head against her leg with a comforting rumble, which caused her to smile faintly and reach down to scratch at his ears.

Apparently Alexandrite was just as moved by her despondency, however. He hesitated only a moment more before he started to speak.

“Many years ago, Malachite had a brother,” he suddenly revealed, causing Mina to turn to him in surprise. “Older. Pyrite was the epitome of what a Northern Warrior should be. Strong, dedicated, powerful, confident. He was the heir, and a rock that many in the family depended on. As a boy, Mal adored Pyrite, looked up to him in every way.” Mina winced at the heavy sadness and pain that was emanating from Alexandrite now, telling her that this tale would not have a pleasant ending. “Despite his good qualities,” the other man heaved, “Pyrite also had some very damning ones, and as he got older they just got worse. He was arrogant, prideful, and had the devil’s own temper. One night, discussion turned to war and the whispers of evil amassing in the hills. Pyrite demanded that his father turn the rule of the Wastes over to him in these troubled times; argued that he was the stronger, more capable warrior and more fit to rule. But my brother, Feldspar—sensing the darkness growing within him—refused.” Here Alexandrite swallowed somewhat thickly, staring off into the distance but likely not seeing anything of the Venusian gardens around him. “Pyrite flew into a rage,” he pronounced, tone somewhat hoarse. “Cut down his own father, in cold blood, right in front of the rest of his family. Guards were summoned, but Pyrite was the best of us, the strongest and most skilled warrior in our arsenal. They were no match for him. He slew them easily, and then disappeared into the night. A few days later, the youma struck,” he continued, tone going flat. “Leaderless and with half of our garrison dead, we were overwhelmed. Near to everyone in the castle was slaughtered. Malachite’s mother, Olivene. My wife, Chalcedony, and my little girl,” he choked out, “Angelite. She was only seven.”

Tears dripped sorrowfully down either side of her face, as Mina shared in Alexandrite’s pain and sadness, feeling them as if they were her own. Unable to help herself, the young queen reached out to him, her hand curling around his and trying to offer what comfort she could. Though glassy-eyed, the emotion in his gray eyes refused to fall. Rather his broad jaw clenched a few times, and he took a deep bracing breath before calming again. Back in control once more. Though he did give her hand a gentle squeeze, as if in thanks, before he continued his sad tale.

“I managed to survive, there are times even I don’t rightly understand just how. I fell into a sort of berserker rage, after Chalcee and Angel were killed,” he murmured. “There are large gaps of that night that I . . . simply cannot remember. However, I got myself out, and young Mal as well.” Alexandrite shook his head then. “He . . . wasn’t right . . . for a long time afterward. Not only had he witnessed his entire family being slain, but Pyrite—the older brother that he’d near-worshipped since swaddling—had been the sole cause of it. I managed to get us to Elysian, where the Lord King gave us sanctuary, but Malachite wouldn’t speak—at all—for many months afterward. And once he finally came around, nearly a year later, he’s been as he is now ever since. Always tempered, always in complete control of himself and everything around him.” Alexandrite sighed heavily. “I suppose he’s afraid that, if he lets himself slip . . . even just a small bit . . . .”

“That he will become no better than his brother,” Mina finished softly. Suddenly, a lot of her husband’s behavior began to make so much sense. Alexandrite nodded. Mina considered the sad story for several more steps, then, “whatever happened to Pyrite?” she questioned. “Was he ever found?”

Alexandrite nodded. “After the North was retaken, patrols discovered the remnants of a body wearing Pyrite’s armor half-buried in the snowdrifts. He must have been set upon by Youma while out on his own. Mal had him buried in the family crypt, with the rest of them.” Mina could tell from the tone of his voice and the emotions rolling off of him that that was not a decision he necessarily agreed with, but had long since accepted. Mina just nodded, however, somehow not expecting anything less of her mate. No matter what Pyrite had done in life, he was still his brother. Malachite would have wanted his remains properly cared for, not left out in the elements for the carrion to feed from.

They fell into silence again after that, Alexandrite slowly putting old memories and demons back to rest while Mina mulled them over for the first time. They continued to walk together through the gardens until sounds of a ruckus caught her ears. Brow furrowed, Mina led Alexandrite down another path, until they both arrived at one of the larger courtyards. There, it seemed a large portion of what warriors Venus boasted off were facing off with the impressively skilled and disciplined contingent of Northern Warriors that had elected to relocate here on Venus to bolster their defenses as well as remain under Malachite’s command.

In the center of it all, the man himself stood observing their sparring, his arms folded back behind him and clasped in the small of his back. Malachite was dressed in slightly more Venusian attire—a lightweight pair of cream-colored cotton pants and a matching sleeveless vest of sorts, the gold band of his office on prominent display around his bare bicep. He had also pulled his white-blonde hair back into a loose tail, probably in order to get some sort of relief from the muggy heat as well. Unnoticed for now, Mina hovered near the entrance—Alexandrite and Zaire remaining silent at either side of her—and watched her husband move through the ranks. Pointing out corrections and admonishments where needed, giving simple praise when warranted.

Mina sighed then, feeling a fierce pang of longing as she continued to stare at him from afar. Ever since he’d been back, Malachite hadn’t made any attempts at all to be intimate with her. He hadn’t even tried to kiss her. She tried to tell herself that it was probably because he was afraid that doing anything with her might in some way hurt their son—which wasn’t true, of course. Her pregnancy was progressing very normally and healthy, which meant there was no danger to her or the baby in enjoying that aspect of a Joining. Of which Mina still found herself craving somewhat desperately, even worse now that he was home and right underneath her nose every day. But not knowing what he was feeling was holding her back from acting on what was, to her, a perfectly normal and natural impulse. Mina just couldn’t be sure if he would react favorably to her aggressiveness. The memories of her wedding night—and his cold, cruel demeanor for the first part of it—was too fresh in her mind. The young Queen was too afraid of inspiring a repeat performance.

So, instead, she watched him from afar and pined like a child. Squirming restlessly in the pillows at night while she tried to sleep beside the huge hulk of absurdly attractive, masculine muscle and not give into her powerful urges to touch him, and make him touch her in return.

Mina’s attention was suddenly diverted, however, by the sight of her cousin Eros out among the sparring. Which was somewhat surprising, given that she hadn’t known Eros was in any way interested in fighting. Indeed, the Northern Warrior he was facing off against trounced him easily. The blonde shot to his feet after being knocked down, blue eyes narrowed into a scowl. Mina tensed.

“This is pointless,” Eros growled. Everyone around him turned at the sound of his voice. His posture stiffened under his audience, and he tossed down the sword he’d been holding with a vengeful clatter. “We are not warriors,” he pronounced stubbornly. “This is just an exercise in humiliation. Proving to us that your Earthling comrades are superior. You mean to mock us.” A few of the Venusians near him grumbled slightly, apparently agreeing.

Sensing the impending disaster, Mina took a step forward intending to intercede, but Alexandrite suddenly reached out and caught her by the elbow, holding her back. When she turned to him, the older man just shook his head slightly. Mina turned back toward Eros, biting her lip as Malachite strode forward, fearing the worst. The taller King seemed as calm and unruffled as he had been, though, arms still clasped behind his back.

“It is true, your philosophies have taught you not to fight,” he called, loud enough that the rest of the congregation—which had come to a pause at the commotion—could hear him clearly. “And that is a truly noble thing, not something I would wish to change. However, there are times when your enemies will not be so noble.” His tone hardened, gray eyes solemn. “There are times when your enemies will care nothing of peace or diplomacy. They will want nothing less than the complete and total annihilation of your homes. Your families. Everything that you hold near and dear to your hearts. Imagine, for a moment, the Grand Palace of Venus brought to rubble. Imagine the screams of fear, of pain and confusion. Imagine the blood. Imagine the death. Now imagine you had the power to stop it.”

“Pretty words,” Eros sneered, “but you try to give these men false hope.” Malachite turned to face her cousin directly at that, pale eyebrow lifting.

“I don’t deal in chance, Lord Eros,” he replied coolly. “I deal in certainties.” His gaze turned to sweep across the others once more. “And if there is one infallible truth that I have learned from this war is that one man defending his home can be the most powerful force in this universe.” Around him, several world-weary Earthling warriors nodded, holding the pained knowledge of experience in their eyes.

The Venusians who had sided with Eros were now staring at their King with a newfound respect. Sensing that he had lost favor, Mina’s cousin scowled heavily, face reddening before he turned on his heel and stalked off out of the courtyard. To his credit, Malachite didn’t gloat in victory. Rather he seemed to heave a sigh, shoulders rounding somewhat—in weariness?—before turning back to the others and calling out for them to resume. Every man in attendance eagerly jumped to do his bidding. Mina just shook her head a little, somewhat in awe. There was just something about Malachite—the way that he spoke, the way that he carried himself—that inspired a near-hero worship in everyone, without him ever having to lift a finger.

Though she didn’t notice it, beside her Alexandrite gave a knowing smile before he finally stepped forward. More boisterous and vocal than his nephew, he yelled out his praise or his admonishment to the surrounding warriors in his booming voice, demanding to be heard. Malachite turned toward his uncle for a moment, nodding slightly when he neared. And then Mina tensed when his eyes lifted further and settled onto her. She froze, breath hitching a little, while those silvery eyes seemed to lock with her own and hold them. And then, without another word or even a twitch of his eyelashes, Malachite turned back to his warriors.

Mina felt her eyes narrow, her currently short temper flaring. Men!

In a huff and not really sure just why, Mina found herself stomping from the courtyard and heading back for the cooler indoors. An hour or so later, closer to dusk, she was lounging with Zaire in their bedroom when Malachite entered. Still suffering from her hurt feelings—however irrational—the Queen pretended to be very engrossed in the book she was holding and didn’t look up at him at all. Of course, being the dimwitted male that he was, Malachite apparently took no notice of her sulking. Instead he methodically stripped and stepped into the bath as calm and placid as ever, going about what had become his nightly routine. Mina glared vengefully at the page she hadn’t turned in nearly a half hour in response, her irritation and frustration swelling like a swollen river behind a dam.

Malachite had just stepped out of the sunken pool, a dried off and absently tied a towel around her waist when Mina suddenly tensed from her perch and then let out a sharp yelp of pain. She dropped her book, both hands shooting down to cradle her stomach. Then she jerked when her hands were covered with two much larger ones. The queen straightened with a startled blink, stunned that in less than a heartbeat Malachite had crossed the distance that separated them, and was knelt down to her now. His face was as cool as ever, though his gray eyes seemed darker. Worried, mayhap?

“What is it?” he questioned immediately. “Is it—,”

“No,” she bit out, her graciousness strained from the pain in her middle. Not to mention the fact that her husband was thrusting his mostly naked, wet self right underneath hr nose. A woman only had so much control, after all. “I’m not going into labor,” Mina assured then. Malachite blinked.

“Well then, what—,”

“Your son seems determined to try and break one of my ribs,” she interrupted sourly, trying to rub the soreness from the area and ignore the fact that his huge hands were still cradling her. “My mother told me that talking to him would soothe him, but so far nothing I’ve tried has worked.”

Malachite considered that for a moment or two, and when Mina flinched and hissed in pain yet again, he frowned. Then he leaned forward, until his face neared her belly. “Hey,” he called in his deep, ever-commanding tone. “You’re hurting your mama. Knock it off.”

Mina’s eyebrow lifted, and almost snorted in humor at his high-handed tone. Until the restless infant in her womb immediately went still. Then she gaped at him in utter disbelief. Malachite lifted away then, expression—as always—unreadable.

“Better?”

“How . . . how did you . . . unbelievable!” she finally snapped. At her sudden anger, his brow knitted in confusion. Mina just crossed her arms, too frustrated to care. “Even your unborn son jumps when you snap your fingers.”

Malachite cleared his throat. “Ah . . . sorry?” he tried, though the confusion in his tone only upset her more.

“You should be,” she growled testily.

“Something has you upset,” he guessed then, somewhat bland. Mina just grumbled under her breath, glaring off to the side. Malachite sighed again. “Perhaps if you told me what was bothering you, I could try and fix it.” She continued to glare somewhat spitefully, until he suddenly took her chin in his hand and gently forced her to turn and look at him. Mina was somewhat surprised by the slightly softer look in his silvery eyes. Almost . . . gentle. “What troubles you, little one.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t asking her, he was demanding to know the answer. Mina found herself annoyed enough by that, combined with all the frustration that had been building inside of her from everything else, that she found herself blurting out her words before she really thought about what she was saying.

“What troubles me?” she snapped. “You trouble me, Malachite. Everything you do, troubles me! You never speak to me unless absolutely necessary. Stars, I’m going to give birth to your child in two months and I don’t even know what your favorite color is! Does it please you, that I am to have your son? Do you loathe me for it? I haven’t a clue! My people are an empathic race, and I am more sensitive than most, yet when I look at you all I feel is cold emptiness. You have yourself and your emotions so tightly bound and in control that I can’t feel anything from you. Ever. Have you any idea how frightening that is, for someone like me? How painful?” Malachite just stared down at her, ever unreadable, while Mina’s voice began trembling with emotion and her eyes welled with tears. “I Joined with you for the sake of a nation. Our union meant the salvation of millions. Yet those millions can’t lie down with me in the night, can they. They don’t hold me. They don’t comfort me. And neither do you.”

“. . . you want me to comfort you?” he questioned slowly after a slight pause, and the hesitation in his tone sent her anger to all new heights. Mina let out a frustrated half-scream.

“Yes, I want you to comfort me, dammit! I’m seven months’ pregnant! I want you to touch me, hug me, kiss me, something! I want to actually know that you can feel something! I’ve lain next to you for two months whole, wanting to touch—needing to touch—and not once have you even tried to so much as look at me in an overt fashion. Do you have any idea what kind of torture that’s been?” Malachite shook his head at that and—had she not been so upset—Mina might have detected the first hint of humor start to light his gray eyes. As it was, she was far too riled up at the moment to notice. “I’ve been hounded by dreams about you and our wedding night almost from the day you left to go to war, but you apparently could care less. Now that I’m as big around as a house because of your son, I don’t appeal to you anymore.” Now Mina’s eyes became deadly slits of rage, pointing an accusatory finger at his bare chest. “But if I find out you’ve carried yourself into another woman’s bed, so help me I will tear you limb from limb with my bare hands—,”

Mina’s tirade was abruptly cut short by the pressure of his mouth on hers. The blonde let out a slight squeak of surprise, eyes widening, but one of his larger hands suddenly buried in her hair behind her head and then tightened into a fist, holding her still at his mercy whether she liked it or not.

But she did like it. A lot. And she’d be the worst sort of hypocrite if she tried to pretend otherwise.

As it was Mina let out a slightly moaning sigh of pleasure while Malachite deepened the kiss, her own hands lifting to brace against the broad line of his shoulders. In the back of her mind Mina had been very afraid that the passion he had for her all those months ago was just a trick of her Pheromone. That, if left to his own devices, Malachite felt nothing stronger for her than mild like and acceptance. However, the hot and hungry way he was currently taking her mouth—just as voracious and almost desperate as before—slowly burned away that niggling doubt in her mind until nothing at all remained of it.

A moment later and Mina somehow found herself in his lap, straddling him, the hem of her robes shoved up somewhere near her hips and his towel having fallen away to the wayside. Malachite took all of her weight easily, leaning back slightly so that there was plenty of room for her swollen middle. She panted somewhat, breathless, eyes a little wide and glassy with confusion and the beginnings of desperate need. Though the look on his face was as smooth as ever, his gray eyes were bright and surprisingly fierce.

“I have had no other woman but you, since our vows were given,” he pronounced suddenly, tone solemn, “nor have I had even a small desire to. I am very content that you carry my son. I have not had much in the way of family for many years. Only my Uncle, my Lord King and my fellow Generals. And yet, in one effortless miracle, you stand to give back to me much of what I had lost and thought gone forever.” Mina remained silent, too stunned to speak or really react, while Malachite reached up and carefully tucked a hank of her long lemony hair behind her ear on one side. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. “And my favorite color, little Queen, is blue. Like that of the Earthian sky. Deep and vast, I have seen very few colors to match it in my travels, and only one shade of blue that betters it.”

“And what is that?” she heard herself question, her tone gone soft and husky.

There wasn’t an ounce of flattery in his tone, only pure truth as he responded easily. “Your eyes.”

Mina licked at her suddenly dry lips, feeling warm and achy and terribly short of breath as his words sunk in, heart pounding somewhat. She tensed, letting out a somewhat grudging moan as his hands suddenly lifted from her hips, slowly sliding up the curve of her back and setting her whole body on fire.

“Now,” he murmured, and again there was the faintest glimmer of amusement dancing in his silvery gray eyes. “You can touch me ‘til your heart’s content, little Queen,” he growled low. “And you’ll hear no complaint from me.”

She needed no more prodding. Mina leaned back to him with another whimpering moan, somewhat desperate as her slender arms threw around his neck. Malachite returned her feverish kisses in equal measure, grip tight and almost frenzied.

In the bone-weary, sweaty aftermath Mina cuddled her great hulk of a husband while he carefully threaded his fingers through her long hair, and for the first time the silence between them was a soft and gentle thing rather than tense and uncertain. Mina found herself marveling to herself, faintly swollen lips pulling into a tiny smile. The reason being that, for a very brief moment while they had joined, Malachite had relaxed his iron-clad grip on his control. For a moment—only a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless—his guard had dropped. And for the first time, the empathic Queen had felt him. Felt what he felt. And what she had felt had soothed away any doubt or fear that she had been wrestling with previously.

It was very slight. Subtle. Perhaps borne from gratitude due to their son, or perhaps something else. Malachite probably didn’t even realize it himself. But now Mina knew the truth, and was content. Because now she knew that her husband—in his own subtle and quiet way—loved her.