by Bec McMaster
“An answer to whatever sort of question you would like to ask. And likewise.”
“Don’t,” Falion warns him.
But Mistmark smiles. “Fine. I’ll play. But I’m going first…. And I will have the truth from you, little wraith.”
“I will answer as truthfully as I may.”
He sinks back onto the sofa, considering his cup. “Your sister has tried to kill me thrice now. The first two times she failed. Badly. But today, she would have succeeded. I was poisoned, and there was nothing Falion could do to try and save me.” He leans forward. “But she saved me. She poisoned me and then she gave me the antidote. Why?”
Because I’m fairly certain she’s half in love with you…. “Belladonna had cursed me. She wanted the marriage to fail, and unless I killed you before today was done, I was going to die.” I tell him about our little heist. “You were the perfect distraction, but if there’s one thing we are ever taught, it’s not to let the situation get too messy. If you’d died, it was quite clear Falion would be intent upon exacting his revenge, and we already had Malechus and Belladonna to worry about.”
“Not to mention the Crown Prince of the Forbidden Court,” Falion mutters.
“I wasn’t entirely certain Ruhle was in play,” I say with a shrug. “I also had no particular desire to see you dead. I just needed Belladonna to think you were.”
He seems slightly disappointed with the response.
“But that is me,” I add gently. “If my sister wanted you dead, then you would be dead.” And then, because I’ve always been a romantic at heart, I add, “Three years ago, my sister was sent to kill you. I have to presume it’s because my father knew you had the horn and wanted it. I don’t know why she didn’t kill you. I don’t know how she failed, or what occurred between you, but I do know this.” My voice hardens. “My father doesn’t tolerate failure. You get one chance, and your punishment is severe. When my sister returned home from your court, she knelt before him and told him she’d failed. Just that. She gave no explanation. She gave no excuses. She did not beg for mercy. And so he locked her away in a windowless, lightless, frigid cell for four months. She was given just enough food and water to survive at irregular intervals. No one spoke to her. No one touched her. She had not a single blanket with her, and she’s terrified of the dark.
“But she accepted that punishment without a single complaint.” I sip from my tea, cooling now. “It always surprised me, because Soraya is selfish and argumentative. I’ve never seen her deal before Father like that before. But then… sometimes I’d wonder if she did it because she was trying to protect someone else—someone she needed to convince Father not to kill.”
There’s trouble in his eyes, and I don’t think he knows what to believe. But there’s also something thoughtful there too. “She’s afraid of the dark?”
It’s not the concept I would have thought him to focus upon. I shrug. “I was born within my father’s court, but Soraya was not. Her mother managed to escape him when she was heavily pregnant, and she spent five years in hiding, before his wraithen scouts finally tracked them down. They killed Sora’s mother right in front of her and locked her in a chest for weeks on end until they’d smuggled her back into our lands.” It’s not my story to tell, but…. “She suffers from nightmares sometimes. Her entire life changed in a single day, and while she forged armor around her heart and grew calluses on her soul, she still prefers to have a light burning in the night.”
Mistmark considers my words. And then he nods. “More than what I asked, and I’m grateful for it. I will try to reply in kind.”
“There have been a few questions plaguing me about this entire situation. At first I wondered why you agreed to marry Belladonna, but it soon became clear Malechus was blackmailing you. He wanted the horn, and he forced you into a corner in which you would marry his cousin and yield it to him as a bridal tithe.” It’s the one question that’s always bothered me. “Why? What was he holding over your head?”
Mistmark sighs. “Your sister.”
So far my theory is correct. Ruhle must have approached the prince in order to set this entire thing up—but I don’t know what Malechus thought he’d gain from the arrangement. The horn, clearly, but what did he intend to do with my brother when Ruhle came for it?
“You know what Soraya is.”
“I do.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
Mistmark strokes his thumb over his cup. “I’m the guardian of Mistmark, and the castle is a repository of information. While I wasn’t yet born when the Court of Shadows was cursed, I’ve read everything about it that I could get my hands on.”
Was that before or after you met my sister? “My father believes the curse can be broken.”
Falion pauses at that, his mouth thinning.
But Mistmark stays him with a hand. “It’s possible, yes. You would need an enormous amount of power to do so.”
“How much power?” It’s something I’ve given thought to several times of late. “My father believes it would require something like the cauldron. Or a dragon’s heart.”
Mistmark chews on his nail. “Both would definitely break the spell.” He looks a little pained. “Both could tear apart the world while you’re at it. You speak of taking a war hammer and using it to shell peas.” His eyes narrow upon me. “But the cauldron is lost, and there are no more dragons.”
I sink back a little. “Of course not. Hence my question. I wanted to know if there was anything else that could do it.”
“Of course. You’ll forgive me if I cannot answer such a question from memory. I would be willing to open the library at Mistmark to you, if you sought an answer.”
“Thank you.” I can’t help fighting a yawn.
“Tired?” Mistmark asks.
Falion tops up my cup. “Do you need somewhere to stay for the night?”
Mistmark shoots him a quizzical look.
“What?” Falion asks blandly.
“I’m just trying to work out what you’re plotting,” he tells his friend. “That was… generous.”
Falion scowls. “She’s my sister.”
“And I’m your friend.” Mistmark leans back in his chair, his arms crossing. “Do you remember when you threw me out into the mud and told me to find my own fucking bed?”
“You were drunk.” Heat climbs up Falion’s throat. “And you snore like a wounded bear.”
“Precisely my point. I was in a precarious state of mind and you made me sleep in a barn. Anyone could have slit my throat.”
“I set a shadow to watch over you.”
Mistmark shoots me an amused look. “There is one thing you should know about your brother, my lady. Don’t ever trust him when he’s trying to be polite. He’s up to something.”
Falion throws his hands in the air.
I don’t know what to make of this good-natured play. “I’d begun to realize that. He looks slightly constipated whenever he tries to smile.”
Mistmark coughs a laugh into his hand, his blue eyes twinkling as he glances to see his friend’s reaction.
“Cauldron’s icy kiss,” Falion says. “You two are as bad as each other. Fine.” He glares at me. “I tried to be kind. Sleep in the hallway. Crawl back to Keir’s bed. I don’t care. Just don’t come sniveling to me when he casts you out.”
Yanking his cloak over his shoulder, he slams the door as he stalks through it.
“He’s out of sorts,” Mistmark explains, stretching his arm along the back of his sofa and watching the door with an affectionate look. “Your appearance in his life is very confusing for him.” His gaze softens. “He’s spent years hoping his mother was still alive. And now he knows what happened to her. He won’t ever say it, but he doesn’t like surprises. He doesn’t know what to do with you.”
“He offered to train me.”
It startles a laugh out of him. “Did he?”
I sink back into the sofa. I’m so fucking tired. Every inch of me feels l
ike I’m covered in bruises, but it’s the one painted across my heart that hurts the most. I’ve been avoiding Keir ever since I returned to the court, but I can still hear our last argument.
“What now?”
Now? It’s an explosive question. The last time I saw Keir, he’d just discovered the depths of my betrayal. I drain the rest of my tea in a single gulp. “Now I have to go beard the dragon in its den.”
“You’re going back?” His smile is kind, even as his eyes remain watchful. It’s a reminder. Mistmark is still sounding me out.
Falion isn’t the only one I cannot quite trust.
I push out of the chair. “Someone has to go see if your bride is still alive.”
“Oh, she’s alive.” He swirls the rest of his drink, staring into it. “At least until I get my hands on her.”
29
I slip over the edge of the balcony and come face to face with a furious dragon.
There’s no surprise in Keir’s eyes as he wrenches the curtains aside. Only frustration.
“Where have you been?” he growls. “It’s been hours.”
“Making friends.” I stagger over the doorstep. “Where’s Soraya?”
“Sleeping.” He jerks his head toward my bedroom. “I healed her with my blood and put her to bed.” His eyes narrow. “Where have you been?”
There it is.
The first thrust of the knife in this game of parry.
“Somewhere safe,” I tell him, because I haven’t entirely decided what I’m going to share with him. Somewhere in my head, I’m still trying to sort out what this revelation about Falion means.
He prowls back into his bedchambers as my dry tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I follow him slowly, uncertain whether I’m truly welcome here. If he put Soraya in my bed then does he mean for me to stay here with him?
My heart skips a beat. I never meant to be here once my deception was discovered. Until Keir told me that story and made me question where the horn truly belongs, I was planning to slip away before he could confront me.
I’ve never had to face the consequences for my actions before. Not like this. I’ve never had to stare a prince in the eye and beg for forgiveness. I’ve never… wanted forgiveness before.
And I can’t read him.
What is going on in his head? I want to be ill.
“What?” he finally asks.
“You’re… not as angry as I expected you to be.”
His expression is cold. Stark. Unforgiving. “Oh, I’m angry.”
“I told you the truth of what happened. I changed my mind. I was going to give you the horn. I was going to let you throw it in the deepest trench in the ocean, if you wanted to keep it secret—”
“But?”
“Then I saw Soraya’s chest. I saw the blight spreading through her.” My voice drops to a whisper. “It’s a wasting sickness that afflicts my kind—the backlash of the curse that transformed us. It’s brutal and unforgiving, and I’ve seen what those who suffer it go through. It will eat away at her, inch by inch, until there’s nothing left. There is no cure. Do you know what they do to those afflicted with the blight? They kill them, Keir. A quick knife across the throat is the cleanest death we can offer them, but there’s another truth my father wants to keep hidden…. Every year the blight affects more and more of my kind. It’s not contagious—not the way an illness is—but there are some factions at the Court of Shadows who think my father’s stranglehold over the court is what is causing the increase in cases. He’ll have her killed if he sees the rash.” I swallow. Hard. “The only way to stop the blight from spreading is to break the curse that ties us to this flesh. I have to give my father the horn.” It’s the only way I can save her. “I have to find the cauldron for him. Please. Please understand. It was never about betraying you.” I give a bitter laugh. “For the first time in my life, I was actually tempted to give you everything you wanted, even if it cost me. But she’s the one price I won’t pay.”
The harsh line of his shoulders doesn’t soften. “I never asked you to pay such a price.”
“You want the horn—"
“I don’t care about the fucking horn. Do I want to keep it out of the hands of those who will abuse its power? Yes. But if it takes its place in the world, then I will deal with it.” Hot anger flashes over his face. “I understand why you made the choices you made. You love her. She’s your sister. I understand that. Do you know why I’m angry, Zemira?”
I’m a mess of confusion. “Not really, no.”
“I’m tired of the lies,” he says, advancing upon me. “I’m tired of being right here, only you won’t look to me for help. I told you everything; about my past, about Igrainne, about Arianna. Do you know how many times I’ve breathed those words in the past three thousand years? Never. I told you because I wanted you to understand. I wasn’t telling you that you had to give me the horn. I was asking you to trust me. I was asking you to share your side of the story, so we could work through a solution together. You want to save your sister? Then why the fuck didn’t you tell me about her? About this blight? You think I wouldn’t care? You think I wouldn’t help you?”
The words take me like a fist to the throat. “I….”
The harsh line between his brows deepens as he hears my hesitation. Somehow, he’s backed me against the door. “Don’t you dare insult me like that.”
“I’m not insulting you! Have you ever thought that maybe the problem is me?” I shove at his chest. “I don’t know what you want of me. I don’t understand any of this.”
His eyes blaze. “You know what I want of you. I told you once”—he presses his fingertips on the wall on either side of my hips—“that I was searching for my truemate.”
There it is again, the panic clawing its way up my throat. “I can’t be your truemate.”
“Why?” His breath whispers over my lips, his expression savage. “Because your father has your soul?”
I rear back in shock.
“Soraya warned me away from you. She told me everything. She thinks I’m going to get you killed.”
“I….”
“No more lies,” he tells me, pressing his finger to my lips.
No more secrets. No more lies.
And so I kiss him.
This is my truth, right here. It’s the only one I can give him. The only one I can give myself.
Keir captures my face in his hands, and the second our lips touch, the control within him shatters.
His hands are on my skin…. His tongue in my mouth. The sheer force of his body hammers me back against the wall as if whatever dam he had in place to shield the torrent of his emotions has failed. Need pours out of him. Fury. I’m drowning in it and I want it, and maybe this would be the sweetest death of all.
Destroy me. Please.
A tremor runs through him as if he heard me. A hand slides into my hair, pinning me there as his kiss turns hot and punishing.
It’s a desperate clash, all my emotions riding me like a whip. I don’t know what today has brought, but I do know it’s changed my future forever.
I can’t pretend anymore. The cracks around my heart were hammered by the finest of chisels, and though my shield was strong, it was never meant to guard me against this. Against my own wants and desires.
“Keir,” I gasp.
Capturing me behind the thighs, he hauls me into his arms and then strides for the bed. We hit the mattress together, the shock of his weight driving me into the soft blankets. Another savage kiss obliterates my senses. There are hands on my skin, shoving my shirt out of the way. Teeth grazing their way down my throat.
“You’re so cold,” he whispers, crawling up my body.
“Then kiss away the shadows,” I whisper back.
A glint of something I can’t quite name darts through those wicked eyes. He pauses, and somehow, he sees right through me. “As you wish,” he finally breathes.
Those wicked lips find my skin.
Roughened hand
s glide beneath my half-ruined shirt. He parts it with a sharp jerk, tearing the fabric I used to bind my breasts free and then his mouth follows, closing over my nipple.
A spear of delicious agony jolts through me. There’s a hollow inside me, desperate to be filled.
All those empty nights, dreaming of a lover I knew waited for me….
I never knew until this moment that it was him I dreamed of.
He’s the one I’ve been waiting for all these years.
I kiss him. Hard. Seeking to drive out the doubts plaguing me. Keir tugs my leathers down my legs and flings them aside.
Fingers find me through the sheer silk of my drawers. He tugs the silk aside and drives them into me, a curse leaving his mouth.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” A kiss obliterates every thought in my head as he pumps those fingers slowly within me, scissoring them.
I can barely retain a moan. Whatever this male is, he knows what he’s doing in the bedchamber. A spear of jealousy lights through me at the thought, and I shouldn’t be jealous.
I can’t stop thinking of the cauldron.
Of Calliope.
Of the oath he pledged to his people.
And of Soraya, trying to fight against the curse’s blight.
He said he’d help me save her, but what am I dragging him into?
My father will kill him. My father will—
“Stop thinking,” he whispers in my ear as he curls his fingers up, just so. They rasp over something so sensitive I moan and arch into him. “There is nothing outside this room. Not tonight. Just you. Just me. Us.”
He’s right. I kiss him again, forcing my sister and her deadly illness out of my mind. Maybe, just maybe, if I give him this moment, he’ll understand.
Then he’s shoving my knees apart, diving between them.
His hands grip my thighs and pin them down as he plunges his tongue inside me. Dragging his tongue out of me slowly, he lets it flicker against that sensitive bundle of nerves there. Oh, fuck. Again and again. A brutal, furious fucking of his tongue, leaving me writhing and wretched on the sheets. And then his fingers join him, thrusting inside me the second his tongue darts around my clit, before he replaces it with his tongue again. A scream tears loose. He’s taking no prisoners tonight. There’s none of his usual control, his curiosity. Instead, he’s a marauding barbarian, driving me hard toward the edge, as if he intends to stake his claim.
