Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MORGANA
I woke to the sound of leaves cracking outside the lean-to.
I gasped, jolting upright in search of my dagger. A low chuckle resounded around the corner, and when I leaned over to peer past the sticks, I caught Aster flapping my still-damp clothes in the air wildly.
“Good morning to you too,” he mumbled and shifted in front of me after folding the clothes. “They are still damp, but it’ll warm up soon enough. I think you’ll survive.”
I watched in awe as he set them at my feet, twisted around to face the dead campfire, and created another shrouded wall that separated him from me. Staring at the clothes for a moment, I swallowed the dry, rotten taste in my mouth. I rubbed my eyes before unlatching the buttons of the jacket. I paused.
And I stared at the shadows. I stood, shimmying into the pants and approaching the wall. It whirred like the ocean during a calm storm—quiet, unassuming, but dangerous in its own right. My touch ghosted the surface, intrigued by the violent cold that bled from it. The morning sun was warmer than the night I’d just endured, but this magic was a different type of cold.
I toyed with the button again and slowly unfastened them—one, by one, by one.
“How did you rest?” I asked, not moving away from the wall. It wasn’t transparent in the slightest, but he’d tried to eavesdrop on me once already. “I hope you slept poorly, if I’m being frank.”
“I slept fine. But did you know you make these terrible little squeaking noises when you sleep?”
My breath hitched, and I paused at the final button. I cocked my head, my frazzled hair falling over my shoulder. “I am glad I can be a bother to you even while asleep.”
“I said they were terrible. That’s an entirely separate thing from annoyance.”
“Only to the likes of you.”
I took a step back, cowardice swallowing me whole. I fetched the shirt, kneeled behind the poorly constructed lean-to, and slipped out of the jacket into the damp blouse. I stood upright, tossing on the dry jacket once more. Within seconds, the wall dropped and Aster was already facing me. He had the worst smirk plastered on his face too.
“Do you not know what privacy is, Aster?”
“I am a prince. Privacy is a luxury.”
I inched closer to him, adjusting my sleeves and smiled up at him. “A luxury to you, perhaps. It is a requirement for me.”
He leaned forward. “One you have not earned. Trust me when I say I care little about the secrets you hide under your clothes.”
My heart stopped and my face fell. Did he know? Had he caught a glimpse of the scars that laced my back?
“You bastard,” I whispered, shuddering. He couldn’t?—
Please, gods, no.
“What?” Aster said, barking out a laugh before moving back to create space. “Do forgive me, Morgana, but a body is a body. I’ve seen more than I can count?—”
I groaned.
He waved me off. “As I was saying, I’ve seen more than I’d care to count. I will keep an eye on you until you have proven to me you will not run away. Or I could lock you away in that tower again where I let my guards watch over you. That worked great last time, did it not?”
He turned his back to me. My ears started ringing as the thoughts swarmed my head—perhaps he didn’t know, but he was playing with me in ways that made my instincts scream. I chased after him and acted before logic screamed at me to stop.
I shoved him. So hard that he practically fell on his face.
“You fucking bastard!”
Aster twisted around and glared at me with the viciousness I’d only expect from a predator like him. I blinked once and he vanished, leaving nothing other than that terrible mist in his wake. I held my breath, turning my head slowly in hopes of finding him.
I backed away, spinning around once more. One second, he wasn’t there, and the next, his hand was latched around my shoulders as he guided me into the tree. He took hold of my chin so I was forced to look at him. His grasp on me was slight—no more than a silent threat of the pain he could cause. His eyes went black, and tendrils of dark magic slithered from under his gloves.
His breath tickled my forehead as he loomed over me. I squeezed my eyes shut, but behind that darkness were the incessant reminders of my failures—I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t fight him.
“Let this be a reminder, Morgana Kyllingham. You may be privy to the secrets of our world that not even my most trusted advisors know, but it is not because we share an alliance. No, it is because we share gods-forsaken magic that shouldn’t exist outside of my bloodline.” His lip brushed against the top of my head with his next words, treading the line between affection and affliction. “If it is a fight you seek, I can make this tumultuous relationship of ours entirely more violent.”
I bit my lower lip and opened my eyes up at him again. My hands braced his chest in an attempt to shove him, but the strength I’d had just moments ago was dwindling. My magic tugged at my fingertips, stirring within me, urging me to retaliate in any way possible. Shadows writhed to life across my arms and crept across his shirt. It shouldn’t have happened. My blood pounded so viciously in my veins I could feel the magic trying to crawl its way through my skin, to stretch itself to its full capacity, yet it dissolved into Aster’s flesh.
He gasped, eyes widening as he looked at the dangers that laced across the fabric that covered his chest. I leaned up to him and whispered, “Touch me again and I will not hesitate to find out how far my magic goes.”
When he straightened his focus back onto me, he leaned forward to whisper again, his nose brushing mine. His hold of my chin loosened, those fingers tracing the curve of my jaw. I shuddered in fear, in anticipation. My lips parted, my hatred burning through whatever part of his face I could focus on. “I beg of you, Morgana. Use it against me and we will see how far it goes together.”
I wanted to strip him of that smirk, but that faded into vexing desire when the wind blew his scent into me. This was unnatural. Animalistic in a way I loathed, in a way I refused.
Without thinking, my thumb traced the seam of his lips, and the smirk he wore grew in the presence of my touch. A hand that did not belong to mine guided my curiosity. I inhaled sharply. I hated him, but something beyond me urged me closer to him. We hadn’t even kissed, yet I hungered for him—it had to be a hex. This wasn’t natural.
He guided me to the fabric just over his beating heart, the rise and fall of his breath gentle, controlled, like he’d done this before. Then his hand grasped mine tighter as he moved up the ridge of his collarbones, toward his throat. His nose brushed mine, eyes heavily cast over my face. I was utterly still, warring with desire and terror and hatred and?—
His mouth was over mine, and I whimpered at the idea of closing the gap.
“This magic has the power to kill, maim, disguise, conceal... and yet, it has the power to satisfy every desire we crave.” His next inhale was deeper than the rest before the corners of his lips curled. “Our shadows call to one another, little dove.”
The sweet name was far from the insult it was yesterday. Instead, I rolled my head back at the feeling it gave me. His eyes flickered, as if something within him recognized me and awakened, and it stole his breath. His pupils darkened, dilated.
I reached for his face, daring to touch the crown prince of Verdantium.
“I hate you,” I whispered. “I hate everything you symbolize. Everything you’ve done to me.”
A dark wisp emerged from his finger. He traced the outlines of my parted lips. His lips were all but grazing mine now; it’d just take the slightest move.
“Hate is all I’ve ever known.”
In our shadows, the faint whispers were indiscernible, but the sense of comfort and familiarity flooded my senses.
I moved to close the gap, but he vanished with a small chuckle echoing long after he disappeared.
My fingers dragged across the empty air for him, but he emerged around the corner of the lean-to.
The fire that threatened to burn me from the inside out was now being nursed. And, for the life of me, I didn’t know how to put it out.
“That, Morgana, is why you must learn to tame your magic.”
I raised my eyebrows, glancing down at my hands and watching mist bloom off them. I flexed my fingers, wriggling each one, marveling at the blackness that coiled. He walked toward the line of trees in silence, as if we’d not nearly fought, kissed, and fucked all in five minutes. My pulse drummed as he slowed to a stop at the edge.
“Shall we?” he called out, tilting his chin over his shoulder with a roguish grin.
The aching remained—but this time, it was not due to the chill. No. This ache was for the man I loathed. My captor, my prince, and my greatest terror.