Текст книги "A shadow in the ember"

Автор книги: Jennifer L. Armentrout

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 42 страниц)

No one hesitated. They scurried from the Hall in a flurry of starched white tunics and blouses. My gaze collided with one. Her. The young girl who’d been in the room where the guards had been lying in wait. Her blue eyes were wide as she quickly looked away, casting her gaze to the floor.

Tavius strode down the wide steps onto the main floor, and my gaze traveled to what he walked toward. The statue of the Primal of Life. Breathtaking detail had been given to Primal Kolis. The heavy-soled caligae and armored plating shielding his legs looked real, as did the knee-length tunic and the chainmail covering his chest and torso, all carved from the palest marble. He held a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. The warrior. The protector. The King of the Primals, gods, and mortals. Even the bones in his hands and the curl to his hair had been captured in astonishing detail. But his face was nothing but smooth stone.

The lack of features always unnerved me, just as it did whenever I saw the rare renderings of the Primal of Death.

Tavius looked up at the statue. “This would work.” He turned to me, that smirk fixed upon his lips. “A rather fitting place for you, I think.”

Breathe in. I had no idea what he was up to or what my punishment would be as the Royal Guards forced me down the steps. Spilled liquid dampened the soles of my feet. Hold. White petals crumbled under my steps. I glanced up at Kolis’s stone, feature-less face, fighting the tremble starting in my legs. I forced my muscles to lock as footsteps entered the Hall from behind. Breathe out.

“Ah, perfect timing.” Tavius clapped his hands together. “Bind her and put her on her knees.”

Breathe in. I felt the edge of the arrow poking me in the back. I went down stiffly to my knees, at the feet of the Primal King. The Royal Guards brought my wrists together, and the guard who had been waiting outside my chamber at the end of the hall was suddenly beside me, wrapping one end of a rope around my wrists. I showed no reaction to the tight pull against my skin as he jerked the bindings around the statue’s arm, forcing my arms above my head. Hold. My lungs burned as the guards backed away. The breath I’d dragged in hadn’t been deep enough. I exhaled a thin stream of air. What was happening? What was—? Tavius moved out of my line of sight. I cranked my head to the side to see what he was doing—

Air cracked with a thin whistle, turning my skin to ice. No. No, he wouldn’t. My heart started racing as I pulled at the bonds, my stomach twisting. I knew that sound. I’d heard it when I walked into the barn that night as he’d whipped his horse for throwing him. There was no—

“You’ve always reminded me of a wild horse. Too stubborn. Too temperamental. Too proud despite your numerous failures,” Tavius drawled, drawing closer. I heard him dragging the leather lash over his palm. “There’s only one way to get a steed to respect its master. You have to break it.” Tavius knelt beside me. Nothing about his eyes was warm. There was nothing humane. “Just like you should’ve been broken the night you failed the entire kingdom. But you’ll learn today.”

I stared at him, my heart slowing. I wasn’t there. I didn’t feel the cool tile under my knees or the too-tight, rough rope around my wrists. I donned the veil. I retreated into myself, but I didn’t fade to nothing. I wasn’t an empty vessel. The canvas wasn’t blank. Something dark and tremendous sparked inside me, like a violent strike against flint. An icy fire was birthed in the center of my chest. It poured through my body, filling all those hollow places. My blood hummed, and the center of my chest throbbed. I tasted shadow and death in the back of my throat as that icy fire burned through me. I lifted my eyes to Tavius’s, the corners of my lips curling up.

I heard words pass my lips, sentences full of smoke. “I’m going to kill you.” I barely recognized the voice as mine. “I will slice the hands from your body and then carve your heart from your chest before setting it on fire. I will watch you burn.”

Tavius’s pupils expanded. “You…you stupid bitch.”

I laughed. I didn’t even know where the laugh had come from, but it felt ancient and endless. And it wasn’t mine. I thought Tavius heard it. For a second, I swore I saw fear in his eyes. Doubt. For just a second, and then his lips curled into a sneer.

“You won’t be doing anything, sister. I doubt you’ll be able to even speak your name by the time I’m through with you. You’ll be broken,” he swore. “You will respect me.”

“Never,” I whispered and then looked away, focusing on the stone hand holding the hilt of the spear.

Seconds ticked by as Tavius remained kneeling beside me, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I stayed in that faraway place where nothing but icy fire filled my insides, leaving no room for dread or fear or anything else. When Tavius rose, I felt nothing but the kiss of promised retribution. When he walked behind me, I held my chin high. When he roughly tossed my braid over my shoulder, exposing my back, I didn’t move. When the air cracked again, I didn’t flinch.

The snapping pain streaked across my back, from my shoulders to my waist, sudden and intense. A harsh breath punched out of me. That was the only sound in the Great Hall. The Royal Guards remained silent. Tavius didn’t even speak. I forced myself to breathe through the pain.

The whistle of the whip was the only warning. I braced myself, but there was no way to prepare. No breathing exercise to ease what was to come. Fiery pain erupted as my entire body jerked forward and then fell back as far as the ropes would allow. I shuddered, telling myself that I could handle this. Tavius wasn’t strong enough to break skin.

He was the weak one.

The night rail slipped down my arms, gaping in the front as I slowly rightened myself. As soon as I could, I would carry out my promise. I would cut off his hands and feed that whip to him until he choked on it. I would carve out his heart and then watch him burn.

“Look at you.” There was a thickness to Tavius’s voice. He snapped the whip off the tile, and my entire body flinched. He laughed. “Still so defiant, but it’s an act. You’re afraid. Weak. Would you like me to stop? You know what to say.”

I turned my head to the side, seeing him through the strands of hair that had slipped free. He was standing behind me. “Tavius,” I said between gritted teeth. “Please…kindly go fuck yourself.”

Someone inhaled sharply—one of the Royal Guards. I heard boots shuffling, but Tavius laughed again, cursing me. I could make out him lifting the whip, and I closed my eyes.

“What in the gods’ name are you doing, Tavius?” My mother’s voice suddenly rang out through the Great Hall. My eyes flew open to see them both garbed in the white of mourning. She gasped. “Dear gods—”

“Have you lost your senses?” Ezra. That was her. The flare of stinging pain along my back faded as I saw her standing next to my mother. “My gods, what is wrong with you?”

“First off, neither of you two addressed me appropriately. But given the shock of the last several hours, I will let it slide,” Tavius stated calmly, unbothered by their reaction. “As for what I’m doing, it is what should’ve been done—” He staggered to the side, eyes widening as he stared at the floor. “What the…?”

Ezra had come to a stop on the steps. A blur of plum and gold poured in through the open doors of the Great Hall as Royal Guards arrived, and under me, the petals vibrated as the floor trembled. Thin fissures formed in the tile and ran across the carved caligae enclosing Kolis’s feet. I watched as the tiny splinters traveled up the stone legs. Confused, I lifted my head. What in the world…?

A blast of thunder shook the entire Great Hall. Someone cried out. Delicate flutes left behind on trays and tables exploded. Chairs toppled. Tables shattered. Plaster fell from the columns and walls as cracks raced up pillars and screamed across the ceiling’s glass dome.

A gust of icy wind whipped through the Great Hall, and the air…the air charged with power. The hairs all along my body rose as a faint mist seeped out from the fissures in the floor.

Eather.

Tavius took a step back as the space between us began to vibrate. Air crackled and hissed, emanating silvery-white sparks that swirled and lashed through the space just as the whip had. Then the very realm tore open.

And darkness tinged in silver spilled out from the tear, splashing on the floor and rising in a thick, dark, swirling mist. In the throbbing mass, a tall form could be seen as thick tendrils curled through the air, spreading across the floor, forming a pillar of night and then another, completely obscuring all others in the Hall. In each column of churning shadows, a form took shape. As the shadows—all of them that filled the Hall—retracted as if drawn back to him.

I knew who stood in the center without even seeing his face or any features inside the pulsing mass of midnight that stretched up and outward in the shape of massive wings that blocked the sun’s light.

Death had finally returned.

Chapter 20

There were only ten beings in either realm that were powerful enough to tear open the realms.

A Primal.

But as the shadows stopped the maddening spinning, and the shape of wings became nothing more than a hazy outline, I saw who stood in the center, and it made no sense.

Because it was him. The Shadowlands god.

Ash.

He looked over his shoulder at me, the striking planes of his features a brutal set of harsh lines. I stared at him, my heart thumping. His skin…it had thinned, taking on a silvery-white glow. The breath I took lodged in my throat.

Oh, gods…

The silver of his irises seeped throughout his entire eyes until they were iridescent. They crackled with power—the kind that could unravel entire realms with just a lift of a finger. A web of veins appeared on his cheeks, spreading across his throat and down his arms under the silver band on his right biceps then traveling along the swirling shadows that had gathered under his skin. He was…he was like the brightest star and the deepest night sky given mortal form. And he was utterly beautiful in this form, wholly terrifying.

The buzz of incredulity filled me, throwing me straight into denial because it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t have been him this entire time.

“Who…who are you?” Tavius rasped.

Slowly, his head turned to where my stepbrother stood. “I am known as the Asher,” he said, and I shuddered. Is it short for something, I’d asked when he told me his name. It is short for many things. “The One who is Blessed. I am the Guardian of Souls and the Primal God of Common Men and Endings.” His voice traveled through the Great Hall, and absolute silence answered. I could barely force air through my lungs. “I am Nyktos, ruler of the Shadowlands, the Primal of Death.”

The whip slipped from Tavius’s hand, falling to the cracked marble tile.

Ezra and my mother were the first to react, dropping to their knees as they placed their hands over their hearts. The Royal Guards who’d entered behind them followed suit. Tavius and the other guards were as frozen as I was.

Nyktos looked to his right, to who I slowly realized was the god who’d given me the shadowstone dagger. Ector nodded curtly before turning to me.

As the Primal returned his attention to those before him, Ector knelt beside me. Distaste filled his deep amber eyes. “Animals,” he muttered.

“That’s an insult to animals,” came another voice, and I looked up to see the god who had stood to the Primal’s left. The deep black skin of his jaw was hard as he glanced at my back. “There is no blood.”

“He didn’t break the skin,” I heard myself whisper. “He’s not skilled enough with a whip for that.”

His eyes, the color of polished onyx, flicked to mine. Eather glowed behind the barely visible pupils as a slow grin started to appear. “Apparently, not.”

“Saion?” Ector carefully touched my shoulders. “Can you get rid of the ropes?”

“Gladly.” The god curled his fingers around the bindings. Immediately, the edges of the rope frayed under Saion’s hand. A faint charge of electricity danced around my wrists, and then the rope broke apart, falling to the floor as ash. I started to topple forward, but Ector kept me upright.

A sharp sensation of pinpricks rushed down my arms as they fell to my sides, the blood returning to them. “Is this…is this real?”

“Unfortunately,” Ector muttered.

Saion snorted as his hands replaced the other god’s. “Unfortunately?” He eased me down, so I was sitting, but his hands remained, causing another jolt of energy to rush over my skin. “I’m about to get my daily dose of entertainment.”

Ector sighed as he rose. “There’s something wrong with you.”

“There’s something wrong with all of us.”

“This won’t end well.”

“When does it ever?” Saion asked.

“Who?” the Primal snarled, jerking my attention to where he stood. Fury radiated from him, and I had…I had never heard him sound like that. “Who took part in this?”

“Them,” a soft, shaking voice answered—the same frightened voice that had lured me into that room to be attacked.

I found her by the doors on one knee, her head barely lifted. “I saw them in the hall with her, Your Highness. Three of them were with the Prince, and the fourth joined with…” She shook. “I went to get Her Grace.”

The Primal’s chin lifted to where the three Royal Guards stood with Pike, who still held the bow. A guard spoke in a trembling voice. “I thought he was just going to scare her. I didn’t know—”

The Primal turned his head to the male, and that was all. He looked at him. Whatever the Royal Guard had been about to say in his defense ended in a choked gasp. The man stumbled forward, the blood draining rapidly from his face. His head kicked back as his lips peeled over his teeth in a scream that was never given life. I jerked as tiny cracks appeared in the man’s pale, waxy flesh—deep, bloodless splits opening across his cheeks, down his throat, and over his hands.

 The Royal Guard shattered, broke apart like fragile glassware, into a fine dusting of ash and then…nothing. Nothing remained of him, not even the clothing he wore or the weapons he bore.

My wide eyes shot to the Primal. That kind of power…it was inconceivable. Terrifying and impressive.

“Here we go,” Ector murmured.

My gods, that was what he was capable of. And I had stabbed him? I’d actually threatened him. Multiple times. The strangest thought occurred to me as one of the other Royal Guards turned to run and only made it a step before he froze mid-flight, his arms whipping out, stiff at his sides. Why in the hell did the Primal ever use a sword if he could do that? A grossly inappropriate laugh crawled up my throat as the guard’s mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Cracks appeared across his cheeks as he rose off the floor. He…he crumbled slowly, from the top of his head to his boots, collapsing in a stream of dust.

 Ector glanced down at me, raising a brow.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. It had to be the pain in my back that ebbed and then surged. The shock. Everything.

The third guard fell to his knees, begging. He too shattered into nothing.

“He seems angry,” Ector spoke over my head.

“You…well, he’s been moody lately,” Saion replied, and I felt another laugh taking form. “Let him have his fun.”

“I’m not going out like that.” Pike—the utterly idiotic man—lifted the bow and fired.

The Primal twisted, moving so fast it was nothing more than a blur. He caught the arrow just before it made contact with his chest. “

“Now that was a bold move,” Saion commented. “A really bad one, but bold.”

“You fired an arrow at me? Are you for real?” The Primal tossed the arrow aside. “No, you don’t have to go out like that.”

“Oh, man,” Ector added with another sigh.

The Primal was suddenly in front of Pike. I hadn’t even seen him move.

Taking hold of Pike’s arm, he twisted sharply. Bone cracked. The bow fell, clattering off the tile as the Primal gripped the man around the throat. “There are many ways you can be taken out. Thousands. And I’m well acquainted with all of them,” he said. “Your options are endless. Some painless. Some quick. This way won’t be either.”

The Primal’s head snapped forward. There was a brief flash of fangs, and my stomach hollowed. He tore into Pike’s throat, ending the man’s short, abrupt scream of terror. Wrenching his head back, the Primal forced the man’s jaw open as he spat a mouthful of Pike’s own blood into his mouth. My stomach churned with nausea as I planted a hand on the tile. The Primal shoved Pike aside. The mortal fell to the floor, twitching and grasping at the jagged tear in his throat. I couldn’t look away. Not even when he stopped moving and his blood-coated hands slipped away from his neck.

Ector’s head cocked to the side. “You call that moody?”

“Well…” Saion trailed off.

The Primal then turned to Tavius. “You.” Ice fell from the word.” He looked down, his blood-smeared lips curling into a smirk. The breeches along the inside of Tavius’s leg had darkened. “So afraid you pissed yourself. Do you regret your actions?”

Tavius said nothing. I didn’t think he could. All he could do was nod jerkily.

“You should’ve thought about that before you picked up that whip,” the Primal growled. “And touched what is mine.”

What is mine?

Another laugh tickled the back of my throat. Now he claimed me?

A rush of air stirred around me. I blinked. That was the amount of time that had passed. The spot where Tavius once stood was empty. My brows lowered. A second later, my mother screamed. I turned, barely feeling the pull against the tender skin of my back.

The Primal had Tavius pinned to the statue of Kolis, several feet off the floor, the whip wrapped around his throat. The Primal’s skin was more silvery than dusky now, thinner, and those shadows became even more apparent. “I would ask what kind of mortal you are, but it is evident that you’re a pathetic pile of shit shaped into that of a man.”

Tavius’s face turned a mottled red and purple as he sputtered, digging at the whip around his throat.

The Primal’s chin dipped as his head cocked. With his other hand, he reached for Tavius’s waist and jerked his hand back. He held the dagger he’d gifted me. “This,” Nyktos growled, hooking the blade into one of the leather straps that crossed his chest, “does not belong to you.”

“No! Please! He’s my stepson.” My mother rushed forward, stumbling over the hem of her gown. “I don’t know what got into him. He would never do this. Please. I beg of you—”

“Beg and pray all you want. It matters not to me.” The Primal’s voice turned guttural as the shadow wings swept high, stirring the air once more. “He has proven what little significance and value he has to this realm.”

“Don’t do this,” my mother cried, holding out her hands. I squeezed my eyes shut. Not wanting to hear her beg for him… “Please.”

“He’s a monster. He’s always been a monster.” Ezra’s steady voice cut through the room, and I opened my eyes. She hadn’t risen from where she knelt. “Our…our father knew that. Everyone knows that. He is, as you said, of little significance.”

“But he is the future King,” my mother said as Tavius’s eyes bulged, and veins protruded from his temple. “He will never do something like this again. I can promise you that.”

I stared at my mother, my chest rising and falling rapidly as she continued pleading for his life. That icy fire returned, washing away the shock and the disbelief. It dulled the pain in my shoulders and upper back. It dulled everything. I pulled away from Saion and pushed to my feet. I stood on surprisingly steady legs, my gaze never leaving my mother, even though she had not looked at me.

“Let him go,” I said. “Please.”

“You would beg for his life?” The Primal’s voice was barely recognizable. The limestone of the statue cracked behind Tavius. “He hurt you. He forced you onto your knees and whipped you.”

“I don’t beg for his life,” I said, that throbbing icy hotness taking root in my chest as I turned to the Primal.

A long moment passed, and then the Primal looked down at me. His eyes… The silver was radiant, almost blinding, the wisps of eather nearly obscuring the pupils. The glow seeped out of his eyes, crackling and spitting. Power charged the air, and behind him—all around him—a darkness continued to gather, pulling from all the nooks and shadowy areas of the Great Hall. Shadows also moved under his skin.

“As you wish, liessa.” The Primal dropped my stepbrother. He fell forward onto his knees, and then rolled to his side as he tore the whip free of his throat, tossing it aside as he wheezed. The whip slid across the petals and cracked flooring, coming to a stop before me.

I looked down at it. “Thank you.”

“Do not thank me for that,” he bit out. The shadows collapsed back into the Primal’s skin and were released to the hidden corners of the room. The luminous glow was the last thing to fade. His eyes met mine. “Do not allow this to leave a mark.” He then turned back to Tavius, kneeling beside him. “You will not die by my hands, but I will have your soul for an eternity to do with as I see fit. And I have a lot of ideas.” He winked as he patted the mortal’s cheek. “Something to look forward to. For both of us.”

Saion laughed under his breath. “He’s giving like that.”

“Thank you,” my mother whispered. “Thank you for your—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Nyktos snarled as he stepped over Tavius’s trembling body.

My mother did just that, and I turned to her. Finally, finally she looked at me. Her eyes were wide, red, and swollen, and I felt nothing as I faced the Primal. He shifted an arm to the side, revealing the hilt of a sword strapped to his lower back as Tavius righted himself, leaning against the statue of Kolis. The redness had eased from his face as he tilted his head back. The mark the whip had left behind on his throat was clearly visible.

Grasping the hilt of the Primal’s sword, I pulled it free. Ector stepped to the side. The shadowstone was heavier than I was accustomed to, but it was a welcome weight in my hands as I turned to my stepbrother. Tavius looked up at me.

“What did I promise you?” I asked.

His watery eyes widened with realization. He threw up an arm as if he could somehow ward off what was to come.

I swung the shadowstone sword down, across his right forearm. The blade met no resistance, cleaving smoothly through tissue and bone. Tavius howled a sound I’d never heard a mortal make before as he scrambled against the statue, blood spraying and spurting. Someone screamed. Probably my mother as I brought the sword down on his left arm, just below the shoulder. His shrieks rang across the glass ceiling.

 I thrust the sword through Tavius’s right chest in a most dishonorable manner, impaling him to the statue of the Primal of Life. He flailed and jerked, wide eyes rolling as blood sprayed the length of my night rail. I stepped toward him.

“I think that’s enough,” the Primal said.

“No, it’s not.” I picked up the whip and snapped forward, grasping Tavius’s blood-and-sweat-soaked hair. I jerked his head back. Wide, panicked eyes met mine as I shoved the handle of the whip into his mouth, pushing it down as hard as I could.

“Okay.” Saion cleared his throat. “Got to admit, I was not expecting that.”

The light was quick to go out of Tavius’s eyes then. The icy heat in my chest throbbed in response, but I let go of his head before my gift could undo all my hard work. I stepped back, wiping his blood on my night rail. Blood now trickled from his ragged wounds.

I didn’t carve out his heart or set him on fire, but what I had done…it would do, and it would not leave a mark.

Taking another step back, I looked around the room. My mother had stopped screaming. The faces were a blur as I looked at Ezra. “Take the throne,” I said hoarsely, and she stiffened. “You are next in line.”

Ezra shook her head. “The throne belongs to—”

“The throne belongs to you,” I cut her off.

Her gaze darted to the presence behind me and then to where my mother had collapsed in a pool of white skirts, one hand clutching her chest as she looked at me—as she saw what I was, what she had helped to mold.

A monster just like Tavius, only of a different sort.

I turned to the Primal, to the other who had helped to shape me into this thing, and slowly lifted my gaze to his face. He stared down at me, his expression unreadable as Tavius’s blood seeped across the floor, cool against my bare feet.

A roar replaced the nothingness as I stood there, staring up at him.

The Primal of Death.

My would-be husband.

Nyktos.

The very key to stopping the slow, painful destruction of my kingdom.

 Suddenly, that feeling of familiarity made sense. I had heard his voice before.

I have no need of a Consort.

The Primal inhaled sharply as emotions rolled through me, wave after wave, crashing into a rising tide of so many feelings that I choked on them—the disbelief, the hope, the dread, and the anger. So much anger.

“You,” I croaked.

“Get everyone out of here,” the Primal ordered. “Get everyone out of here, including yourselves.”

The gods hesitated. “Are you sure?” Ector asked.

“Go.” The Primal didn’t take his eyes off me.

I heard the gods walking away, heard them rounding up those still alive—heard Saion asking, “You have whiskey? I’m in the mood for whiskey.”

A shudder worked its way through me as the Primal continued staring down at me. Did he…did he now just realize who I was? Three years had passed since he’d last seen me. A lot had changed in that time. Whatever softness of youth had lingered in my features had faded. I was a little taller and fuller, a little harder, but I wasn’t unrecognizable. Apparently, I was just forgettable while my entire life had only ever been about him. And because of him, the last three years of my life had been…well, they had been nothing but pain, disappointment, and unfulfilled duty.

Every part of my being centered on him as my chest continued to rise and fall rapidly.

His head tilted again, the slash of dark brows lowering. Reddish-brown hair slid against his cheek, and something…something deep inside me began to rattle and crack open. I tasted rage, a hot and acidic rage so potent and consuming, my throat burned with it.

I lost whatever control I normally had. I launched myself at him, swinging my closed fist straight for the Primal’s face.

His eyes widened with a flicker of surprise and that second almost cost him. My knuckles grazed his jaw as he stepped to the side. He twisted at the waist, his hand snapping out. Catching my wrist, he spun me around. The columns of the Great Hall whirled as my bare feet slipped in the blood. In a stuttered heartbeat, my back was pressed to his chest, and an arm pinned me to him around my waist.

“That was not the reaction I expected now,” he said from behind me. “Obviously.”

An inhuman sound crawled out of my throat, a growl of fury as I winged my free arm back, fingers reaching for his hair. It was such an unbecoming move, but I didn’t care.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He caught my other wrist, pressing both my arms to my waist as he crossed his arms over my chest.

 Ignoring the protest of the raw skin across my shoulders, I drew up my foot and slammed it down. He shifted out of the way as he lifted me enough that my foot didn’t make contact with the hard floor.

He turned us so we faced away from the statue and Tavius. “You seem angry with me.”

“You think?” I threw my weight back against him, hoping to upset his footing.

He didn’t move. “I see I was correct about you striking me as the type to fight even if you knew you wouldn’t succeed.” His chin brushed the top of my head. “It’s exhausting always being right.”

I threw my head back with a shriek. Pain lanced my skull as I connected with some part of his face.

“Fates,” he grunted, and a savage smile tore at my mouth. His hold on me tightened as he dropped his chin, pressing his cool cheek against mine. Within the span of a too-short breath, he effectively pinned my head between his and his chest. “Are you done yet?”

“No,” I seethed, fingers splaying uselessly. Frustration scorched my skin, stroked against the icy heat in my chest, as did the knowledge that even with years of training, he had still easily rendered me absolutely harmless.

“I think you are.” His cool breath touched my cheek.

“I don’t care what you think,” I spat, trying to pull free, but it was useless, and it was starting to hurt. I didn’t gain an inch. I pulled both legs up, but that did nothing. He didn’t budge.

He sighed. “Or I suppose you could just keep doing this until you tire yourself out.”

Planting both feet on the floor, I pushed as hard as I could against him. The Primal still didn’t move, but he did tense.

“I would suggest you stop doing that,” he advised, his voice deeper, rougher. “Not only are you going to further irritate the wounds along your back, but I don’t believe your actions are inciting the type of reaction you’re aiming for.”

It took a couple of moments for the firestorm in my blood to ease enough for me to make sense of his words…and for some inkling of rationality to seep in. Breathe in. I stared at the cracks in the white and gold columns, dragging in a deep breath. My chest rose, pressing against his arms. Hold. Slowly, my senses returned. My cheek tingled from the contact with his. The night rail was barely a barrier. The length of my back and hips prickled from the feel of his flesh against mine. The coarse hairs of his arms tickled the sensitive skin of my chest through the sagging bodice. My pulse thrummed erratically as I stared forward, unable to understand the riot of sensations. The skin-to-skin contact was a lot.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Breathe out. Had I seriously tried to attack the Primal of Death?

I didn’t want to think about that. I couldn’t think about what surely awaited me after what I’d done to the would-be King of Lasania. All I could focus on was that I was here now with him, the object of over a decade’s worth of training and grooming. A strange sort of laugh worked its way up my throat, but it found silence against my sealed lips. Because no matter what had happened in this Great Hall, no matter who took the throne now, I still had a duty to Lasania.