Chapter 26
26
C allum had fussed over me when he had pulled me back onto his horse. The fog was fading now, and the path was clear as we crested the mountain. I assured Callum that I was fine—but despite the sunny weather, I felt cold, tired. The thick fog still shrouded the edges of my consciousness.
“Here it is,” Callum announced as our horse started its descent down the mountain. The last of the fog parted and I saw it.
The Temple of Orsi was perched on a cliff. It was surrounded by greenery and gorgeous gardens, bursting into explosions of color that dripped from every surface. The temple had huge domed structures with imposing gilded pillars. But what was most stunning were the massive waterfalls tumbling out from underneath the temple and down the cliff face below. It gave the temple an illusion of having been built atop a waterfall, and the cliff was so high in elevation that clouds drifted by the marble columns and hanging gardens. What was it like, to live amongst the clouds like that?
“What is this place?” I asked. Nothing in my lost memories could possibly look as beautiful as this—could it?
“Only the most remote temple in all of Septerra,” Callum said. “Orsi is the goddess of creation, prosperity, and knowledge. She’s a blessing to craftsmen, and the Kingdom of Solhaven have claimed her as their deity.”
“Have you been to Solhaven?”
Callum snorted. “As if. They rule an entire continent double the size of what Luminaria and Stormgard split. King West likes to claim they’re an ally, but no one really knows what goes on in Solhaven. We only hear rumors of golden fields and prosperous cities, but no one beyond their citizens are allowed within their borders.”
“So why have their god’s temple here?”
“Cassandra hails from Solhaven,” Callum said, his jaw tightening at the mention of the High Sorceress. “Which does not give me hope that their wealthy kingdom came upon their riches from just the benevolence of their land.”
We rode for another half hour, winding down the narrow road that bordered the cliff and the steep drop below. Then, we arrived at the drawbridge that was lowered for us and our horses to cross to the temple.
I made the mistake of looking over the side of the drawbridge and I hissed and leaned back into Callum.
He chuckled. “So you throw yourself into rings with demons without any fear, but some measly heights scare you?”
I went pale. “Callum, we are on top of a cliff. No, scratch that. We are floating on a scrap of wood above a cliff. ”
“Just close your eyes,” he said, and I did. “Think of something that makes you happy.”
“What are my options?” I asked.
“Shush. Visualize an attractive former-Royal-Commander-turned-contestant who plans on finding new and… creative ways of transferring his power to you,” he whispered in the shell of my ear before trailing kisses down my neck. One of his hands brushed under the hem of my tunic… slipping under to run his fingertips across my bare skin. “I didn’t get to finish what we started.”
“Callum,” I said, not sure if I truly wanted him to stop. “The others will see.”
“Let them. I want them to know that if they try to touch you they’ll have to deal with me.”
I leaned back into Callum, feeling the trail of his fingers as they made little circles, climbing up the side of my ribcage. My heart stuttered… and then Callum’s hand was gone, and with it his leather and citrus scent. I looked up, and the drawbridge was coming to an end. The others were stopping in front of stables with vaulted ceilings and stained glass that let in brightly colored sunshine. Ajax, I noticed, was missing from our group. Maybe The Foggy Forest had eaten him for lunch.
“To be continued,” Callum said, and I couldn’t help but let out a disappointed noise that made him chuckle.
Callum swung his leg off the horse and promptly reached over to lift me up and off the horse.
Just as he did, a black mare came thundering past us. We looked up to see Tristen push ahead of the rest of the group to get to the stables, smoothly making it off his horse in one motion as he handed off the reins to a stablehand. He turned to the temple, stalking past the confused priestesses who were emerging from the temple to greet us in their ice blue robes.
One of the priestesses continued to our group. She was young, maybe in her twenties, and underneath her hood tumbled a waterfall of raven hair. She bowed slightly to the travelers.
“Welcome to the Temple of Orsi. I am Iris, one of the priestesses here. We are the Order of the Serafim. We invite you to dine with us this afternoon and rest up before your trial this evening. Before I show you to your quarters, I invite you to make an offering at our Sacred Fountain.”
All of us contestants followed, and I trailed behind Callum. I observed the rest of the priestesses as they lined up outside of the temple, smiling at us and greeting us as we entered. Each one wore the ice blue hooded robe with billowing long sleeves, a gold circlet with a sapphire stone perched on their foreheads.
The priestess who called herself Iris led us through sprawling indoor gardens and reflection pools, past plush sitting areas with colorful pillows, and down several open air hallways.
Iris paused in a courtyard, allowing us to filter in. Tristen was already at the fountain, waiting. At the center of the courtyard was an ornate stone fountain featuring the goddess Orsi. She wielded a hammer, preparing to strike the rising sun. The crystal blue waters of the fountain danced around her and the piles of books and weapons that surrounded her like a shrine.
“You have been invited here to make an offering to the Goddess Orsi,” Iris said, and she held out a gold coin in her palm. We all dug through our things until we held our coins, too.
Iris moved closer to the fountain. “Orsi is one of the six gods who has been relegated to this island after the Divinity War, but her gifts still bless those who make the pilgrimage here. She is the goddess of creation, prosperity, and knowledge. She’s been known to bestow the heroes of her choosing with magical artifacts, bonded to their bloodline to give them a chance to change the course of history. But at her fountain, she gives her blessing in the form of future promises. If the water splashes blue, you must continue to acquire knowledge to be worthy of her. If the water runs red, you must kill your way into her favor—likely with an ancient artifact she will bestow upon you, or one that has already been promised to your bloodline. If the water runs black, your death has been promised to her.”
Iris paused, allowing us a moment of silence filled only by the gentle gurgle of the fountain. A soft breeze picked up, and I smelled the spicy scent of the hanging gardens. The gods made such violent promises in the most beautiful of places.
“Now, step forward and present your offering,” Iris said, and she turned over her palm and let the gold coin drop into the fountain below. The water stayed its translucent blue, and Iris folded her hands in front of her as she looked at us expectantly.
We all stepped up to the fountain and did the same, gold coins falling from outstretched palms.
The moment my coin touched the water, it began to bleed. I wish I could say that I was surprised, but I wasn’t. My path was already stained with red. But when I looked over to see where Callum’s coin had landed…
…there was nothing but an inky blackness.
“Callum,” I whispered, trying to keep the shock from my face.
But Callum just shook his head, his expression serious. “I always knew where my path would eventually lead.”
The other prisoners reacted to their coins—most of their waters remained clear, but across the fountain I saw a red swirl curl up from Rachelle’s coin. She angled her head to see my color, and grinned.
“Twins!” she called.
My curiosity kept my gaze roving around the circle of the fountain, and I saw Tristen’s coin…
…had turned the water gold .
Iris had seen it, too. I saw a slight tremble in her hands as she leaned over the fountain, as if questioning her own eyes.
“How…?” she began.
“One of the guards probably gave me a gold painted copper as he lined his pockets,” Tristen said with a shrug.
Iris had gone pale, but she just nodded and addressed the rest of us. “The Goddess Orsi thanks you for your offerings, and deems you worthy to stay in her home. Let me show you all to your individual chambers. Come.”
Iris’ ice blue skirts swished as she walked out of the courtyard, and we followed after her. We headed down more grand hallways with rounded archways and indoor-outdoor spaces where priestesses were studying, praying, or gossiping. The gardens seemed to invade every space. Fruits such as fresh grapes looked juicy on the vine from where they sat in rooms and libraries, the priestesses occasionally going to pick them. Some took great bunches of the grapes, giggling and feeding each other with them while lounging on sofas.
“Can I quit the trials and just become a priestess?” Rachelle asked as she caught up to me.
“I think the Goddess Orsi would be mad we didn’t spill blood for her, first,” I said.
“Got it. This can be our retirement plan after we win many vicious battles, then,” Rachelle said, and then floated away to get a closer look at a set of oil paintings of the goddess as the group slowed to a stop.
Iris paused at the mouth of a long hallway with doors on one side, and artwork on the other.
“Your names are on the doors. Make yourself at home. We will begin serving refreshments in the main hall when the bell chimes. See you then.” Iris bowed and then nearly floated away with her effortless grace.
I watched her go before turning and walking down the ornate hallway, scanning the names written in clean calligraphy on pieces of parchment affixed to each door.
“See you in the main hall?” Callum asked, pausing at a door with his name on it.
“I’ll meet you there,” I said, eager to bathe the smell of horse from my skin. I split off from him until I got to the last door at the end of the hallway with my name on it.
And next to my door—as luck would have it—was Tristen’s room.
Great, I grumbled as I slipped inside my room. The thought evaporated as I beheld the grand chambers. There was a huge sitting room, a sprawling bed, and a balcony with an arched window and floor-to-ceiling curtains that billowed in front of the open door.
I parted the gauzy curtains, stepping outside onto the balcony. I stopped, standing frozen in awe. Across from the temple were those jagged peaks covered in fog. But the valley below—so, so far below—was lush and green and broken by veins of sapphire rivers that fed into a sparkling lake. It was breathtaking—quite literally as the sheer drop of the cliff face below me nearly stole the air from my lungs.
“Enjoying the view?” a teasing voice asked.
I whipped my gaze to Tristen, who was lounging on the balcony next to mine. He wasn’t looking out, but merely watching me as he leaned against the railing.
“I don’t like heights,” I said.
He didn’t look surprised, and a dark cloud passed over his face. “I’m sure Callum would catch you if you fell.”
I pushed my shoulders back. “What problem do you have with him?”
“I’ve told you. He’s hiding things from you.”
“And you’re not?” I shot back.
“I can’t tell you things. He won’t . There’s a difference.”
I made a move to turn back inside, but his voice stopped me. “He’s not on your side, not completely.”
“He did save your life, after all.”
“Only to threaten me moments later. Or should I assume he is not a man of his word?”
“What about you? Are you a man of your word to your wife?”
“Obviously,” Tristen said, and I looked over my shoulder as he gazed out at the view beyond. His eyes slid back to me. “I promise you that Callum will tear you to pieces. Not a matter of if, but when. You won’t even see it coming.”
Anger slid through me as I whirled on him, leaning over the railing. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Tristen.”
His obsidian eyes were steady. Level. “You’ll know when I’m jealous. That isn’t what this is. Callum will destroy you. He already has.”
“Funny, he says the same things about you. So tell me, Tristen, who should I believe? Should I ask the Oracle when I win the trial tonight?”
The blood drained a bit from Tristen’s face. “You have one precious question you get a true answer to. I pray you use it wisely. Not for my sake, but for your own. See you soon, princess .” With that, he disappeared back into his room.
I hesitated, my whole body tensed with anger and frustration. I wanted to break down Tristen’s cryptic nature and get true, honest answers from him. At least Callum was forthcoming. Callum had been there since the beginning, answering my questions. Helping me.
I sighed, walking back into my room. As I did, a knock sounded at the door. I went to answer it, and a woman in an ice-blue dress entered. It was the same color as the priestesses’ robes, but much more simple and she wore no jewelry.
She curtseyed. “Saffron? I’m here to dress you for lunch.”
I opened my mouth, about to protest that I didn’t need help dressing, but the woman was already breezing into my room. Light flared at her fingertips as she snapped and a splashing sound came from the bathing chamber. She held out a silk robe of that same bright blue to me.
“Here. Go bathe,” she instructed. At the idea of washing the grime off me, I nodded in thanks and took the robe. I went to the bathing chamber, eyeing the tub that was now filled with steaming hot water. I was already enjoying this third trial much more than the others.
An hour later, I was bathed and clothed, wearing the color I assumed was the only appropriate option in the Temple of Orsi—that turquoise-glacier blue that matched my eyes. My dress was made of flowing tulle skirts, with a slit up the right side showing glimpses of the creamy skin of my thigh beneath. The bodice of the gown was made of glittering diamonds with blue silk ribbons that served as tied straps on my shoulder. The back was open, plunging low over my bare skin. My blonde hair was sectioned into small braids that were intertwined with those same diamonds, and swept into a low chignon above the nape of my neck.
I felt a whisper of the cool afternoon air tease the places where my skin was bare, but it was pleasant. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, turning slightly so the skirts billowed around me like a frothy cloud.
“It’s beautiful, thank you—” but as I turned to thank the handmaiden, she was already gone. Somewhere above me, a bell chimed. Summoning us contestants together once more.
I still had one of Tristen’s spare daggers, which I had fastened to my upper thigh. It was hidden underneath the massive swells of tulle on the side without the slit in the fabric—one of the few benefits of a dress like this.
I had stepped out of my room—only to stay frozen in the doorway when I heard low voices a few paces away from my room. I closed my door softly behind me, waiting in the alcove of my room’s doorway as I recognized Tristen’s voice carrying in the cavernous hallway.
“...I won’t accept,” he said.
“Are you sure?” a lilting female voice asked.
I snuck a glance around the corner of the alcove. Cassandra was standing across from Tristen, her gorgeous eyes flaring the color of her sapphire robes. She was decked in more finery and jewelry than the other priestesses—much more than what she usually wore when she was playing warden in Ashguard.
Cassandra leaned into Tristen, who had his back to me. Cassandra walked her fingers up his chest.
“I think you’d give up a lot for what I’m offering you,” Cassandra crooned.
“I don’t make bargains with the King’s witches,” he shot back, but I noticed that his steely resolve had faltered slightly. He didn’t withdraw from Cassandra’s touch, and I felt a flare of senseless jealousy heat my blood.
Cassandra swept a hand underneath his chin, angling his face down to her. “I answer to no King, Assassin . Are you sure you want to turn down my offer? This next trial will be a challenge, even for you.” She leaned in closer, and I felt myself holding my breath. “Take my bargain, Tristen. You know it’s what you want.”
What did he want? I wondered.
Conflict flashed across Tristen’s eyes, but it was chased away by certainty. He took Cassandra’s wrist, removing it from his face and returning it to her side. “I told you. Unlike some of the others, I refuse to accept any of your offerings .”
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re special?” She took another step closer to him. “Your people will die in this rebellion. And many more as well. You’ve been leading lambs to slaughter. Why? Because you’re a selfish bastard. Always have been, always will be.” Cassandra stepped away, schooling her face into that poised calm. “See you at lunch.” She drifted away, humming a hymn of some kind to herself.
Tristen stood stock still in the hallway, fury dancing over his features. I just watched him from behind as he took in a ragged breath, scrubbed his hand over his face, and then walked down the hall where she had disappeared.
Questions flitted across my mind, but I stifled them. After a heartbeat, I followed as well, winding down the stone hallways and colorful rooms until I reached where everyone had gathered. This was a cozy throne room that prioritized comfort. Just like our bedchambers, gauzy white curtains flowed across huge arched doorways that led out to a massive veranda, the afternoon light dripping inside and splashing a warm glow about the room. Alcoves were hidden away in so many corners, each filled with so many wine red cushions around low tables.
High Sorceress Cassandra Wraithborn sat perched on a throne at the far end of the room, all of her priestesses lined up by the tables with their hands clasped behind them and pious smiles on their faces as they watched us filter in. As each of us contestants entered, the priestesses broke off, ushering us one-by-one to seats at the main floor table that filled the center of the space.
As I entered, I felt so many heads swivel toward me. Callum took in my dress with wide-eyed wonder. Rachelle gave me a wry smile and a wink. And Tristen… he looked like he had been punched in the gut. He tore his gaze away from me with effort, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks from all of the attention.
Callum motioned for me to come to him, and I joined him at the middle of the table, Rachelle across from me. Tristen sat a few seats down from Rachelle, but he didn’t spare me another glance—especially as Callum’s hand rested on the small of my bare back.
“You’re stunning,” Callum whispered in my ear, and I smiled up at him.
Callum wore an outfit fit for a prince. His pale blue uniform felt regal, as if he was a member of the guards of this temple instead. It was very different from the dark black silk shirt and pants that Tristen had been dressed in—as if he had gotten in a fight with whoever had showed up to his room with pastels and he had won, still dressed in his roguish attire that would allow him to slip back into the shadows at any second.
Rachelle was stunning in an ice blue corset dress that showed off her ample curves—to the point where one of the more dapper prisoners beside her looked like he wanted to steal the dress right off her and get at the prize underneath.
Cassandra rose and the hall fell silent as her priestesses dispersed into the crowd, handing glasses of wine served in gold, gem-encrusted goblets atop gold trays. They were the picture of fine elegance as they floated throughout the room.
Iris stopped in front of me with my goblet. I took the glass she held aloft for me, and I sniffed at the sweet-smelling wine. They had taken tea from us—why not wine?
I peeked at the other prisoners, and everyone was doing the same thing, no one daring to take a sip.
“Welcome, contestants of The Ash Trials, to the third trial. And welcome to my home. My priestesses and I reside here, the Temple of Orsi, home of the great Oracle. Before we begin our meal, a toast to your continued success in these trials, and to bringing the forgotten lands back to the light of Luminaria as we banish the Stormgard rebels once and for all in this senseless war.”
Everyone raised their glass in a toast… but again, the hesitation to drink.
“If it’s poisoned, we’re all fuckin’ dead anyways,” Rachelle said loudly as she knocked back her glass. Everyone else did the same. I hesitated, but followed suit as Cassandra’s stare bore into all of us, and it was pretty clear that we had to drink or suffer the consequences.
The sweet wine hit my veins fast, and I felt a heady rush from the alcohol. The sensation was strong, and I was momentarily caught off-balance, despite being seated on a soft floor pillow. I hadn’t had wine since waking up in Ashguard. Was I a lightweight in my previous life?
“It’s time to eat, our guests. Please, enjoy the feast until the chime of the next bell. Then, we will begin calling out names to see the Oracle. If you miss your name being called three times, you shall be disqualified. So stay sharp,” she said with a giggle.
I watched as she returned to her throne, as if she was offering up herself for the meal. More handmaidens emerged with plates overflowing with spiced meats, steaming mashed potatoes, and exotic fruits both prickly and scaly that I had never seen before. The smell was intoxicating, and I found myself picking from different plates, wanting to sample everything.
I cracked open a scaly fruit, the liquid inside sweet and sticky. I tipped back my head, drinking it in and felt a shudder go through my body as the tangy fruit flooded my senses. It was so… intense . Had fruit always tasted this… vibrant?
I felt Callum’s thumb brush my lower back again, and I felt sparks of electricity shoot through me. His touch was so… so much . It didn’t normally feel this heady, though.
I turned to Callum, and he hadn’t glanced at the food, his body shifted toward me on those floor pillows. His eyes were ravenous. Like I was the meal he wanted to devour.
He swept his thumb back up my spine again and I arched, a soft gasp escaping my lips at the touch.
“What—” I whispered, feeling the heat rise in my veins. But my mind clouded as the question got lost on my lips.
“It’s not fair,” he said, his eyes darkening with lust. “To see you dressed like this.”
My cheeks heated. “You prefer me in a tunic and breeches?”
His fingertips traced up the column of my throat, tipping my chin up. “I prefer seeing your clothes on my floor.”
He leaned forward, and I somehow had to fight my instincts and place a hand on his muscled chest.
“I feel… tingly,” I whispered, and that cleared the fog in Callum’s eyes.
“It’s the wine,” he said, his eyes widening slightly with realization. “It… it must have been an aphrodisiac.”
My eyes went wide, and I swept my gaze over the rest of the prisoners. The priestesses now sat amongst us, mingling. One of the priestesses fed one of the prisoners a grape, gleaming from where she had picked it from a plate. Another led the fire sprite to an alcove on the far side of the room, their hands intertwined. The whole scene moved as if it were in slow motion.
And it was in slow motion that I caught Cassandra drift down to the table, effortlessly slipping herself right next to Tristen.
But Tristen’s eyes were on me. On Callum. There was such severity in those eyes. So much intensity.
Callum began drawing his fingertips up my bare back again and I shuddered, gasping and reaching out to clutch his arms as Callum’s eyes darkened again. I felt myself losing my grip on my mind. Why were we here, again?
“What—what’s happening?” I asked, my stomach fluttering as Callum leaned down to kiss my neck.
“You’re so beautiful, Saffron,” Callum murmured in between kisses. He trailed his lips to the swell of my breasts, leaving me breathless. “I want you,” he whispered on my skin, raking his gaze back up to meet mine.
One moment Callum’s lips were on mine?—
—the next he was thrown across the room, Tristen stalking toward him.
“Keep your hands off her,” Tristen said low and dangerous as the shadows collected around him. Some of the room shifted to watch, but the lust-filled haze was growing stronger as more priestesses pulled prisoners to alcoves of the room, the sounds of moaning starting to fill the cavernous space.
Even though my senses felt so heavy and my skin burned, ached to be touched—I scrambled to my feet, watching as Callum pushed himself up and faced Tristen.
“She’s mine , Assassin,” he said, turning to face Tristen.
The shadows gathered around Tristen, rage glittering in his eyes. “This is a godsdamned trial, you idiot ! You’re not supposed to give in. Not here .”
Callum lunged at Tristen, but Tristen merely disappeared in a swirl of shadows, appearing on the other side of Callum.
Callum dove for a steak knife on the far edge of the table, and turned and hurled it at Tristen.
This time, Tristen did not dodge. He let the blade catch his arm, let it slice him, and I flinched…
…but Tristen merely looked down and yanked out the blade—and watched as the injury stitched itself back together.
He brought his gaze back up to Callum. “We have met, but I still do not think you know who I am. I am night. I am flame. I am an enemy you don’t want to make today.”
But Callum’s eyes were blazing, and he snatched another knife, starting to advance toward Tristen?—
“Stop!” I said, and grabbed his arm. “Please.” The hand holding the knife went limp, and Callum looked down at me again, his eyes alight with that feral hunger. The knife clattered to the floor, and Callum was turning to me once more, my head in his hands.
“I can’t stay away, Saffron. I need you.” His words set off an ache in me, one that felt like an earthquake or a tremor in my veins. I felt so wobbly I wanted to dissolve in a puddle, right then and there.
But then Tristen’s strong hands were on me, yanking me out of Callum’s grasp.
Callum’s eyes went hateful and dark as he once again fixed his gaze on Tristen. But Tristen smoothly set me in an empty alcove behind him, and blocked Callum’s path to me.
“If you need her to survive what the Oracle has planned, you’ll go find some acolyte to fuck to get the potion out of your system,” Tristen said in his deadly calm. “It’s a test. Don’t fail it, you stupid oaf.”
Callum’s fists went to his sides, his eyes sliding to me.
“You should go, Callum,” I said, knowing that if he stayed it would spell trouble for all of us. “I’ll be okay. Go .”
His jaw tightened, but he turned and strode past the billowing curtains and out into a courtyard beyond my view.
Tristen stood, watching him go. Then, in a slow movement, he turned back to the small alcove I was seated in. My blood was still screaming. I suddenly felt hot.
“Hot. I’m too hot,” I said, and found myself pulling at the ties of my dress. I needed it off. Off my body. I yanked at one ribbon and it fell easily. I reached for the other?—
“ Stop ,” Tristen said, suddenly seated next to me on a floor cushion. His hands—his trembling hands—stopped mine from ripping the dress from my body. “You have to resist,” he ground out, and it felt as much of a reminder for himself as it was for me.
“I’m so hot,” I begged, and indeed my body felt so overheated. I didn’t know what to do, feeling that ache and that heat threaten to consume me.
“Stay. Right. Here,” he commanded. And then he was gone.
My hands went to the other strap of my dress, and I was unable to stop myself from pulling the silk bow loose, my dress starting to drip down my body. I leaned back, feeling the cool air starting to trail down my bodice as it slipped lower?—
“ Gods , Saffron,” Tristen said, and he was suddenly beside me once more. He set a cup down at a low table beside us, and then turned to pull my dress back up, his deft fingers retying the twin bows that kept the dress on my body.
But the heat threatened to end me, and I kicked my legs out of the suffocating layers of my dress, the slit of the fabric allowing my bare flesh to slide free.
Tristen caught one of my legs, frozen as he spotted the dagger strapped to my thigh with the belt I had found earlier.
“You brought a weapon to an orgy? Naughty girl…” he said, his wicked eyes gleaming as his fingertips gripped my leg, keeping me from kicking my way completely free of the fabric on my body.
“I didn’t know— oh ,” I said. Tristen had reached into the metal cup and taken out an ice cube that he was now running up my thigh, so slowly.
“You didn’t know what , exactly?” he asked, dragging that frozen cube of water up my inner thigh. “What you were getting yourself into?”
The cool ice cube threatened to end me, right then and there. I struggled to focus, but as he began drawing lazy circles with the ice cube on my hot flesh, I felt the cool liquid begin to creep back—back to my core underneath the lacy underwear I had been given to wear.
“Tristen,” I begged, his name coming out more of a desperate plea than I intended.
“Feeling cooler yet, princess?” he said, watching my hips arc up slightly as my fingertips clawed at the pillows.
“No,” I said, reaching out my other leg to kick him—but he caught that one, too.
“Oh, really? Then I’ll have to do this one as well.” He reached for another ice cube, starting at my ankle. Then, he started sliding the ice cube up… and up. I leaned back against the wall behind me in the alcove as that frozen sensation crept up over my bent knee… the cool water dripping down, down between the apex of my thighs.
“You’re wicked,” I gasped out, breathless.
He watched me, his eyes playful… but something darker was twisting underneath. A hunger that was leashed, but still bit at its chains to be free.
“I’m trying to make sure you survive,” he said. “But I still haven’t heard a ‘thank you’ from you after saving your life so often. Or do I have to settle for you begging me to keep going?”
He crested what was left of the ice cube further up my inner thigh, and I could barely keep from squirming underneath his touch, a low moan leaving my lips. The ache was growing to a full roar, and I reached for him?—
—but he simply took both of my hands and pinned them on the low table beside us in the alcove.
“No touching. And not because I don’t want you to have a sip of my powers. But because you need to stay focused,” he said, his voice low and taut like a bowstring, and I could tell he was struggling to stay focused, too. Around us, the room was growing more frenzied, the priestesses encouraging the rest of the prisoners to participate. To get lost in the bodies around them.
“Focus is so overrated, don’t you think?” a sultry voice asked.
I whirled, watching as Cassandra slipped into the alcove beside us. She was Tristen’s shadow tonight, it seemed—and I hated it. Cassandra sat next to me this time, and her floral perfume overtook my senses as she turned to me.
“Such a pretty thing you are, Saffron,” she said, running the back of her nails lightly up one of my arms, and the fog fell more heavily over me as her perfume and her touch sent waves through me. “Why don’t the three of us play together?”
But Tristen hooked an arm around my waist. In one gentle tug, he pulled me out of arm’s reach of Cassandra, bringing me slightly behind him.
“ No ,” he said, his eyes blazing.
“Aren’t you the picture of restraint, Tristen? Why are you no fun?”
I suddenly felt so tired, and I wound my arms around his neck, my head collapsing against his chest. He was so warm. So comfy. So nice . I sighed in contentment.
He wound an arm around my waist, keeping me tucked into him. “We have a trial to win, Cassandra. Go be with your coven .”
Her eyes flickered with rage, and I lifted my head. I saw what Tristen saw, in that moment. Not a demure, pious woman worthy of a godly duty, but a Sorceress and head of a coven.
We were surrounded by witches .
The thought sent a bucket of cold water through me, and I sat up straight.
“Be careful, Tristen,” Cassandra said, her eyes flashing. “You’ve seen what I’m capable of taking from you.”
And then she was standing, striding away from us. I watched her go, my eyes wide as I saw this place for what it was. A honey trap.
“What?” Tristen asked, his voice rough as his eyes lingered on my lips.
“They’re witches,” I voiced. “And everyone here…”
“Is under their spell. The island wants to punish those who choose momentary pleasure over long-term gains.” Tristen leaned in closer, his voice silky against my ear. “Not that there’s anything wrong with pleasure. But timing is everything.”
Suddenly, a chiming of a bell rang out. A priestess emerged from the lust-filled frenzy and stood by a set of huge stone doors at the far side of the hall.
“The Oracle is ready for Ewing Mathers now,” she said. And waited, even as no one in the room seemed to be listening. “Ewing Mathers?” Again, she waited, and no one appeared. “Last call for Ewing Mathers. Show yourself for the trial or find yourself as a sacrifice for the Order of the Serafim.”
He did not appear.
The priestess just nodded, and folded her hands. Moments later, a disheveled prisoner was dragged in front of her by two other priestesses, his pants falling off his body and his shirt missing. He was clawing at the females, clearly having just been interrupted.
The priestesses pulled him behind the gilded doors, and they shut behind them.
And then the screaming began.