“As am I,” he said after a moment.
I searched the shadows gathered inside his hood, unable to make out even a single feature. “But you…you knew exactly what they were doing. That’s why you followed them. Why didn’t you stop them?”
“They got here before me.” That finger of his had returned to the desk, trailing along the corner. “By the time I found them, it was already too late. I had planned to capture at least one of them. You know, to chat. But, alas, my plans changed.”
My heart turned over heavily as I craned my neck to look up at him. “As I said before, I didn’t ask you to step in.” I glanced at his hand, at the long finger gliding over the smooth surface of the desk. “You chose to change your plans.”
“I guess I did.” He dipped his head, and I wondered exactly how much of my features he could see now. A shivery awareness danced over my skin. I wondered if he would— “To be honest, I find myself quite annoyed with that decision. If I had allowed you to continue on your merry way, it would’ve most certainly ended with your death, but I would’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Like I said, I guess I’m lucky.”
“And as I said before,” he replied, his idle touch of the desk replaced by a tight grip, one that bleached his knuckles white. I unfolded my arms, senses alert as my pulse ticked up. “Are you really?”
The same reaction swept through me. I stiffened as the keen awareness vanished. A long gap of silence reigned, wherein he lifted a hand and lowered his hood. When his face had been hidden, I’d felt the intensity of his stare. Now, I saw it.
“I know you’re curious about why those gods did what they did, but when you walk from this house, you need to leave this alone. It doesn’t involve you.”
His demand dug into every wrong cord inside me. What little control I had over my life, I owned. Tension crept into my neck as I held his stare. “Only I get to determine what does and doesn’t involve me. What I do and do not do is of no concern to anyone. Not even a god.”
“Do you really believe that?” he asked in that same too-soft voice, the kind that stretched my nerves.
“Yes.” Slowly, I inched my hand toward my dagger. He’d shown no ill will toward me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“You’d be wrong.”
My fingers brushed the hilt of my dagger. “Maybe I am, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have no say about what I do.”
“You’d also be wrong about that,” he replied.
I was totally wrong. In reality, no one superseded a god. Not even Royalty. The authority of mortal Crowns was more for show than anything else. The true power lay with the Primals and their gods. And all Primals, all gods, answered to the King of Gods. The Primal of Life.
But that didn’t mean I had to like it, nor the predatory way he looked at me. “If you’re trying to intimidate or scare me into obeying you, you can stop. It’s not working. I don’t scare.”
“You should be afraid of many things.”
“I’m afraid of nothing, and that includes you.”
In one heartbeat, he was standing several feet from me. In the next, he towered over me, and his fingers were curled around my chin. The shock of how fast he’d moved paled in comparison to the jolt of static that followed and erupted across my skin at the contact of his hand. It was stronger. Sharper now.
His flesh was so very cold as he tilted back my head. He didn’t dig his fingers in, nor was his hold tight. It was just…there, cold and yet burning like an icy brand.
“How about now?” he asked. “Are you afraid?”
Though his grip wasn’t firm, I found it difficult to swallow as my heart fluttered like a trapped bird. “No,” I forced out. “Just mostly annoyed.”
A beat of silence passed, and then, “You lie.”
I did. Kind of. A god had his hand on me. How could I not be afraid? But strangely and inexplicably, I wasn’t terrified. Maybe it was the anger. Perhaps it was the shock of what I had seen tonight, the unnerving feel of his touch, or the fact that if he wanted to harm me, he would’ve done it by now a dozen times over. Maybe it was the part of me that didn’t care about consequences.
“A little,” I admitted and then moved. Fast. Unsheathing the dagger, I brought it to his throat. “Are you afraid?”
Only his eyes moved, flicking to the hilt of the dagger. “Shadowstone? Unique weapon for a mortal to have. How did you come upon such a weapon?”
It wasn’t like I could tell the truth. That it had been located by an ancestor who’d gain the knowledge of what a shadowstone dagger could do to a god and even a Primal once weakened. So, I lied. “It belonged to my stepbrother.”
The god arched a dark brow.
“I sort of borrowed it.”
“Borrowed it?”
“For the last couple of years,” I added.
“Sounds like you stole it.”
I said nothing.
He stared down at me. “Do you know why such a dagger is rare in the mortal realm?”
“I do,” I admitted, even though I knew it would’ve been wiser to pretend ignorance. But the need to show him that I wasn’t a helpless mortal who could be bullied was far stronger than wisdom.
“So, you know that the stone is quite toxic to a mortal’s flesh?” he said, and of course I knew that. If it came into contact with a mortal’s blood, it would slowly kill them even if the wound didn’t get them. “And do you know what will happen if you attempt to use that blade against me?”
“Do you?” I stated, heart thumping. The incandescent white glow pulsed behind his pupils and seeped into the silver in wispy, radiant tendrils. It reminded me of how the eather had spilled and spit into the air around the Primal of Death.
“I do. I bet you do also. But you’d still try.” His gaze flicked down to where I had the dagger pressed against his skin. “Is it strange that knowing that makes me think of how your tongue felt in my mouth?”
My entire body flashed hot even as I frowned. “Yes, a little—”
The god moved so quickly, I couldn’t even track his movements. He gripped my wrist and twisted, spinning me around. Within a heartbeat, he had the dagger pinned to my stomach. His other hand hadn’t even moved from my throat.
“That was unfair,” I gasped.
“And you, liessa, are very brave.” His thumb moved, sweeping over the curve of my jaw. “But, sometimes, one can be too brave.” The dusky silkiness of his words wrapped around me. “To the point it borders on foolishness. And you know what I’ve found about the foolishly brave? There’s a reason they often rush to greet death instead of having the wisdom to run from it. What is your reason?” he asked. “What drowns out that fear and pushes you to run so eagerly toward death?”
His question threw me. Sent my pulse racing. Was that what I was doing? Rushing eagerly toward death? I almost wanted to laugh, but I thought about that not-so-hidden part of me that…just didn’t care. That overrode restraint and sound judgement. “I…I don’t know.”
“No?” The word rippled from him.
“When I get nervous, I ramble. And when I feel threatened or am told what to do, I get angry,” I whispered. “I’ve been told on more than one occasion that my mouth would get me into trouble one day and that I should take heed.”
“I see you took that advice to heart,” he replied. “Always meeting a threat with anger isn’t the wisest of choices.”
“Like now?”
The god said nothing as he continued holding me against his chest, his thumb slowly sweeping back and forth, back and forth. With his strength, he wouldn’t even need to use the eather. All it would take would be a sharp twist of his wrist.
It was then that I realized I might have come to the end of whatever goodwill this god had regarding me.
My mouth dried, and the dread of what was sure to come settled heavily in my chest. I was teetering on the edge of death. “You might as well get on with it.”
/>
“Get on with what, exactly?”
“Killing me,” I said, the words like wool on my tongue.
His head lowered a bit. When he next spoke, his breath coasted over my cheek. “Killing you?”
“Yes.” My skin felt inexplicably tight.
He drew back his head far enough that I could see that he had one eyebrow raised. “Killing you hasn’t even crossed my mind.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Surprise flickered through me. “Why not?”
He was silent for a moment. “Are you seriously asking me why I haven’t thought about killing you?”
“You’re a god,” I pointed out, unsure if he was being truthful or just toying with me.
“And that is reason enough?”
“It’s not? I threatened you. I pulled a dagger on you.”
“More than once,” he corrected.
“And I’ve been rude.”
“Very.”
“No one speaks to a god or behaves toward one in such a way.”
“They typically do not,” he agreed. “Either way, I suppose I’m not in a murderous mood tonight.”
I search his tone for a hint of deception as I stared at the window. “If you’re not going to kill me, then you should probably let go of me.”
“Will you try to stab me?”
“I…hope not.”
“You hope?”
“If you try to tell me what to do or grab me again, I am likely to lose that hope,” I told him.
A quiet laugh rumbled from him—through me. “At least, you’re honest.”
“At least,” I murmured, trying not to notice the cold pressure of him at my back. The feel of him. It didn’t scare me. It didn’t even disturb me, which made me wonder exactly what was wrong with me. Because I was fighting the muscles in my back and neck that wanted to relax into him.
His hand slipped away from my chin, and I immediately whirled. He stepped back and, in the blink of an eye, was on the other side of the table.
“Be careful,” he said, lifting his hood and sending his features into the darkness. “I’ll be watching.”
Chapter 4
I inhaled slowly and evenly in the darkness. Tension built in my muscles. “Now,” came the order.
Spinning around, I threw the blade, and a soft thud answered a heartbeat later. Eager to see exactly where the blade had landed, I started to reach for the blindfold when I felt the cold press of steel under my throat. I froze.
“Now what?” came the low voice.
“I cry and beg for my life?” I suggested.
A quiet laugh answered. “That would only work if someone wasn’t intent on killing you.”
“Shame,” I murmured.
Then I moved.
Grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the blade, I twisted the arm away from me as I stepped in. A sharp gasp brought a savage smile to my lips. I pressed my fingers into the tendons, right in that spot. The entire arm spasmed as the fingers opened on reflex, and the hilt of the short sword dropped into my hand. I dipped low and kicked out, planting my booted foot into a leg. A heavy body hit the floor with a grunt.
I leveled the sword on the prone body as I reached up and tugged the blindfold down. “Was that a sufficient response?”
Sir Braylon Holland was sprawled across the stone floor of the west tower. “Quite.”
I smirked, tossing the thick braid of hair over my shoulder.
Groaning under his breath, Sir Holland rolled to his feet. Born at least two decades before me, he appeared much younger since there wasn’t a single crease in his deep brown skin. I’d once heard him tell one of his guards who’d asked if he’d summoned a god in exchange for everlasting youth, that his secret was to drink a fifth of whiskey each night.
Pretty sure he’d be dead if he drank that much.
“But your aim is lacking,” he said, dusting off his black breeches. Absent of the obnoxious gold and plum uniform of the Royal Guard, he looked like any other guard. I’d never seen him in the finery. “And in need of much improvement.”
Frowning, I turned to where the dummy was propped against the wall. The sad thing had seen better days. Cotton and straw leaked from numerous stab wounds. Its linen shirt had been replaced many times over the years. I’d stolen this one from Tavius’s room, and it hung in shreds from wooden shoulders. The burlap head, stuffed with more straw and rags, flopped sadly to one side.
Sunlight streamed in from the narrow window, glinting off the handle of the iron dagger protruding from the dummy’s chest. “How is my aim off?” I demanded, wiping a hand across my sweat-slick brow. The summer…it was steadily becoming unbearable. Last week, an elderly couple had been found in their tiny apartment in Croft’s Cross, dead from heatstroke. They weren’t the first, and I feared they wouldn’t be the last. “You said to aim for the chest. I hit the chest.”
“I told you to aim for the heart. Are hearts typically on the right side of the body, Sera?”
My lips pursed. “Do we really think someone would survive taking a blade to either side of the chest? Because I can tell you that, no, they would not.”
The look he shot me could only be described as unimpressed as he took the sword from my hand and started for the dummy. It was a look I was unfortunately quite accustomed to.
He gripped the dagger and pulled it free. “They wouldn’t recover from such a wound, but it wouldn’t be a quick death nor an honorable one, and it would bring dishonor to you.”
“Why should I care about giving an honorable death to someone who just tried to kill me?” I asked, thinking that was an incredibly valid question.
“Several reasons, Sera. Do I need to list them for you?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I like hearing myself list things,” he replied, and I groaned. “You, my dear, live a dangerous life.”
“Not by choice,” I muttered under my breath.
One eyebrow rose sardonically. “You are not protected like Princess Ezmeria,” he stated as he crossed to the wall opposite the small window, where numerous weapons were stored. He placed the sword next to heavier, longer ones. “No Royal Guards are assigned to watch over your chambers or keep an eye on you as you run wild throughout the capital.”
“I do not run wild throughout the capital.”
The look he sent me this time said that he knew better. “Many of the people may not realize who you are,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some out there who have heard rumors of your existence and have figured out that you are no handmaiden but carry the Mierel blood in your veins,” he continued. “All it takes is for one of them to tell someone who thinks they can use you as a means to achieve what they want.”
My jaw clenched. There had been two in the past three years that’d somehow learned that I was, in fact, a Princess and attempted to kidnap me. That hadn’t worked out well for them, but their blood wasn’t on my hands.
It was on Tavius’s, who I strongly believed had been behind the rumor.
“Not only that, it’s only a matter of time before the Vodina Isles Crown learns of their Lords. They will attempt a siege.” He faced me. “You will just be another body they cut through to get to the Crown.”
I was already just another body around here. One that was mostly ignored. But whatever…
“And then there is the heir,” Sir Holland stated flatly. “Who is still extremely angry over what happened in the stables last week.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still upset with him for whipping that horse because of his foolishness and lack of skill,” I retorted. “Every time I see him, I want to punch him again.”
“While his behavior towards that animal was abominable, blackening the Heir of Lasania’s eye and then threatening to use the whip in the same manner as he did was not the wisest choice.”
“But it was the most satisfactory,” I said, grinning.
He ignored that. “The Prince shou
ld’ve already ascended the throne by now. If it weren’t for Princess Kayleigh becoming ill and having to return to Irelone, he likely would have.” He looked over his shoulder at me, his hickory-hued eyes boring into mine as I quickly wiped the grin from my face. “Something I’m sure you had nothing to do with.”
“Princess Kayleigh is very ill and had to return home to be cared for. Tavius could’ve chosen another as his bride. However, he’s too lazy to ascend the throne and have, you know, responsibilities beyond being a drunken, lecherous pig. So, he’s going to delay marriage for as long as possible.”
“And I suppose Princess Kayleigh’s sickness had nothing to do with the potion you acquired that made her skin pale and her stomach unsteady?”
I kept my face perfectly blank. “I have no idea what you speak of.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
Lies, a shadowy voice echoed in my thoughts. I desperately ignored it. Like I had for the last two weeks, since the night I stood in the study of the townhome. “How do you even know about that?”
“I know more than you think I do, Sera.”
My stomach tumbled a bit. Was he talking about when I actually did run a bit wild through the capital? Namely at The Luxe? Gods, I hoped not. Sir Holland wasn’t exactly a fatherly figure, but still, the idea of him knowing about the time I spent there made me want to vomit a little.
I couldn’t even consider that, so I pushed it from my thoughts. “I can handle Tavius.”
“Barely,” he replied, and I stiffened. “And only because you’re faster than he is. One day, he’ll get lucky. You won’t be fast enough.” Sir Holland’s features softened. “I don’t bring this up to be cruel, but until you’re gone from here, he’s a threat.”
I knew he wasn’t being cruel. Sir Holland was never that. He was just stating a fact. But there was only one way I would ever leave Lasania, and that would be when I died. I sighed heavily. “What does any of that have to do with an honorable or quick death?”
“Well, besides the fact that a dying mortal can still wield a weapon, an enemy is rarely one by choice,” he told me. “They usually become such due to other people’s choices, or they become enemies because of situations they had little control over. I would think you, of all people, would be more empathetic to that.”
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