Chapter 11
Love Is as Dangerous as the Damnable Castle
Baz was fully aware he shouldn’t want to impress his prisoner.
His body might regularly forget how close—much too fucking close—she’d come to stabbing him in the heart, but he didn’t.
He didn’t need his friends to remind him she was as great an enemy as anyone in the entire Opalese could possibly be, so off-limits she belonged on another world. He bloody well knew it.
He didn’t lose sight of the fact for an instant—not even while picturing himself curled over her back, his chest and legs pressed against her, taking her from behind like a beast.
He couldn’t help himself. He’d been trailing her all over the blasted castle, as far as the Rillis rope would allow, which, as it turned out, was the exact distance he needed to get a perfect view of her perfect ass.
No woman this off-limits should look so fine, so enticing …
so scorching irresistible. It was such a cruelty that, while Velle wove through hallway after hallway, searching for Junot or some way to communicate with the castle or break the spell cast over her, he briefly pondered if Mauldrene might somehow be responsible for bringing her into his life.
But how would Mauldrene do such a thing?
No, it had to be Fate, fucking with him.
For the last hour, it had been just Velle and he, trying to make sense of the castle’s labyrinthine floorplan, no easy feat when Mauldrene kept rearranging herself.
Before then, they’d been accompanied by Félix, Night, Ed, Zi, and all their constant complaints.
They didn’t approve of Velle leading the way, even if they didn’t disagree that, as Rafaela’s child, she indeed had the best chance of influencing Mauldrene to release the emperor from wherever she’d stashed him.
With the unwavering intensity of dragons surveilling their young, they monitored her every move.
They accused him of walking too close to her, even when she couldn’t go farther than the rope allowed.
They said he trusted her too much, even when he assured them he didn’t trust her at all.
Baz looked at her too often when the two of them shouldn’t be breathing the same air.
So when Mauldrene collapsed a hallway behind him and Velle that had cut off the others, Baz hadn’t bothered circling around to try to find them.
He hadn’t even gone through the motions, which very likely would have been futile anyway.
He should have been alarmed. Instead, the privacy he and Velle shared …
tantalized him. It whetted an appetite for her that felt insatiable.
“You know,” she said from in front of him, her hips swaying efficiently with each step, “I really am surprised you know so little about the castle.”
She’d said so already, only before she’d said she was “shocked.”
“I would’ve thought you’d want to know everything about the place since you’re stationed here. I thought you traded in information. They say you’re a brilliant strategist who knows about everything that happens in the Opalese, no matter what or where.”
Baz didn’t care one lick what they thought or said about him when their opinions didn’t interfere with his job. He did, apparently—and most regrettably—care what she thought about him.
“Knowing that the castle is ‘mean,’ ‘nasty,’ and ‘bitchy’ does nothing to help us figure out what to do to get the emperor back.”
“I didn’t say any of those things,” Baz said.
“I know. Aziza mostly did. I was there.”
“So was I. No need to keep bringing it up.”
She crouched under a canopy of shadows that crept down thick like vines before she disappeared behind them. The rope tugged between them and Baz rushed to catch up, ducking so the shadows wouldn’t touch him.
When he emerged behind her in a stuffy room that appeared to be a library, dozens of books on shelves or strewn about every end table, his gaze hungrily scanned her body to make sure the shadows hadn’t harmed her. The tension in his shoulders released by a fraction.
“What else am I to talk about if not that?” she said. “It’s not like I can sing along to the music in the background. It’s very…”
“Depressing? Dismal? Gloomy?”
“Solemn. I was going to say solemn. Doesn’t really put me in the mood to sing along.”
She ran her unbound hand along the spines of some of the books before turning in place to take in the room. Beneath the glow of the pair of Baz’s lumoons that kept pace with them, she spun away from the rope, then back into it, away and back.
Baz couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of her, lighter than he’d seen her yet. “I would never have guessed the ‘Power Princess’ Soravelle Davana of the D’Arcos sang … or danced.”
She paused mid-spin. “What, this?” She laughed. “This isn’t dancing.” She ceased moving and met his eyes. “When I dance, you’ll know it. You won’t be able to look away.”
Baz believed it, and had to work hard to keep his mouth from spilling the admission. For fuck’s sake, Baz, she’s your prisoner, not your dance partner at a fancy ball. Get yourself together, man!
He’d given himself stern talkings-to several times already. He doubted it would work any better this time.
“It’s just that,” she said, “there’s something special about this room, don’t you think?”
Baz thought the only thing that was special in the entire dark, shadow-riddled room was her. “If you say so.”
“There’s something … peaceful, maybe, about it here.”
Baz scoffed. “There is? Like what?”
She spun again until the Rillis rope tugged her back. She wore a dreamy smile that was as disarming as it was out of place.
“I’m not sure. Maybe like something important happened here? Or is here?” She licked her lips, and he unabashedly followed the slow glide of her tongue. “Hm. I dunno. Feels different somehow.”
“Feels the same to me as everywhere else in this place: dark, gloomy, cold, and uncomfortable.” And dangerous, he thought, but didn’t say so.
He’d been on edge for months, since first sighting Ombrash Island sheathed in its constant fog and lightning storms. His unease had only grown worse after stepping foot inside the castle.
His reaction had seemed reasonable before, prudent even.
Now it seemed cowardly, and Baz would never allow himself to be a coward.
Velle turned to run a tender touch around the rim of a circular table that had been pushed to one side of the room.
The shadows from the corners stretched toward her, as if they were as compelled to reach her as he was.
Instinctively, he drew a couple of steps closer so he could protect her from them—a ludicrous notion when the shadows that seemed to lovingly touch her cut him to the bone.
Some books shook and rattled atop their shelves, throwing off small plumes of dust. She stalked toward them.
“Since the Bazrian Seven know less than I do about the castle”—she glanced over her shoulder at him before running the tip of her finger along a book’s spine—“which seems so unlikely I can scarcely believe it, since you’ve been here for over half a year.
” She hummed and looked at him again. “Are you guys holding out on me? Because I really do need to know—”
“No, we’re not. At least, I’m not. When my father first sent us here, I figured we’d only be here for a few days, a few weeks at most.”
“Guess that didn’t pan out.”
Baz pursed his lips. “No, it didn’t.”
“And you didn’t find out more about the castle that you believe to be sooooo dangerous since then because…?”
Baz stiffened. “Because Mauldrene isn’t exactly forthcoming with her secrets.
She makes everything as difficult as possible for us, interferes at every turn.
Shit, she doesn’t even let us get proper sleep, and Lev is a scorching pest when he’s sleep deprived.
The last six-plus months have been really fun. ”
She grunted what sounded like disbelief.
“I mean it,” Baz said. “I know that the abyss, island, and castle discourage visitors. No one can even reach the island unless it’s by flying in.” He harrumphed. “Well, unless Mauldrene decides to extend the welcome mat, which she’s done only once before that I know of since we’ve been stuck here.”
“When? For whom?”
“Around when we met.” His smile was heavy. “Right before you tried to kill me.”
“That again? When will you let it go?”
“Never.”
“You tried to kill me too.”
“In self-defense.”
She shrugged. “I figured that a soldier of your caliber would know better than to hold grudges.”
Baz snorted. “Hold grudges? I think a murder attempt goes a bit beyond grudges.”
“Maybe. But I had my reasons.” She jerked her head up so her glare could sear into him. “And Teo is a good fucking reason. The very best one.”
Baz didn’t respond. His temptress was either too good at luring him or a touch crazy. Any rational person would hold an assassination attempt against their would-be assassin.
She glowered at him some more, as if he were to blame for any of this … whatever the fuck this was.
“Who was it?”
“Who was what?”
“For whom did Mauldrene extend the magical fucking welcome mat?”
“It was a bridge that crossed the abyss, and it was for some Galmeenians.”
Her attention that had been skipping along book spines again zeroed in on him. “What Galmeenians?”
“A young girl and boy…”
“And?”
“And some feeders and … whores.” Why was he loath to admit to the whores? It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong. By ensuring neither he nor his friends got tangled up in messy, risky romance with anyone, he was protecting all of them.
Velle’s jaw tightened for a second, before the tension was gone, if it had ever been there at all.
“Whores, huh?”
“Yes. Whores.” He refused to apologize for satisfying a bodily need in the safest way possible. Love was as dangerous as this damnable castle, and anyone who’d ever loved surely knew it.
“You like whores?”
He wagged his jaw back and forth before spitting out, “Fucking looooove whores.”
“Good,” she snapped.
His brows shot up. “Good?”
“Yes,” she snarled. “Fucking great. Now shut up and stop distracting me.”