Chapter 21
Reyla
The need to do something—anything—churned through me.
After Dorion was gone, I rose from the sofa. “We should look around also. Sitting here isn’t going to give us answers or get us closer to that talisman. And every moment we wait gives Naveer more time to spring whatever trap she’s laying.”
Lore also got up off the sofa. “I don’t intend to lounge around for what’s left of the evening,” he drawled.
I traced a fingertip down the front of his tunic. “Plans?”
“Remember that thought, Wildfire. I plan to test you later.”
Now I was intrigued. “What kind of test?”
“The kind where you don't get to think about anything but me.” Heat blazed in his eyes. “Let’s dress in leathers and pretend we’re trying to find a training room.”
I pouted, though I wasn’t opposed to working out. “Training this late at night?”
“It makes a great excuse for Lord Rutherford and Lady Bliss to be in the halls dressed in leathers. They wouldn’t know where the training room is. Who’s to say they wouldn’t get lost even after someone gives them directions? Laphira was wearing the talisman. If she takes it off, it’s ours.”
I nodded, my brow narrowing. “Clever.”
He gave me a crooked smile that did amazing things for my libido. “I took a cue from my wife.”
“Oh, her.”
His arm scooped around my waist, and he tugged me fully against him. “Yes, her. She’s smarter than me.”
“I like that you think that.” His comment also made my libido leap around and come up with some wild ideas.
However, there was something I needed to do.
“Totally true.” Growing serious, he stared down at me, cupping my face in gentle hands. “You’re the thought behind my every breath, the reason the world feels less empty.”
I stroked his face. “I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m living. And it’s because of you, Lore.”
He slid his arms back around me, and his mouth found mine before I could take a breath. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth and the possessive way his hands stroked my back.
I melted into him and deepened our kiss. He tasted of warmth and longing, as if every slow-burning look he’d ever given me had finally sparked to flame. His hand slid up into my hair, tilting my head back, and I moaned, clinging to his shirt.
He kissed me like he’d been holding himself back and was finally, finally done waiting.
Heat curled low in my belly, and I leaned into the promise of him.
But even as I lost myself in his touch, part of me remained alert, listening for footsteps in the corridor, for any sign that our time was running out.
I broke the kiss, my lips tingling, my chest heaving like I’d run up three flights of stairs. Clinging to his shirt while his hands stroked my hips, my spine, even cupping my ass, I rested my forehead against his chest.
“As much as I want you…” I whispered, my words barely audible. “We don’t have time to lose ourselves like this.”
His eyes burned, not just with hunger but with the frustration of knowing I was right. He stepped back slowly, dragging his hands down my arms, his fingertips grazing the inside of my wrists in a way that made my knees weaken. Still, he let me go.
“You’re very distracting, you know,” I said, managing a crooked smile as armor against the sadness I didn’t want to feel right now.
He gave me a wolfish grin in return. “Am I?”
Before I could react, my back hit the wall beside the fireplace. He lifted my wrists over my head, pinning them with one hand. His lips grazed my jaw, trailing lower, nipping at my skin. It was all I could do to remain standing. I wanted to take his hand and drag him to the bedroom.
The scrape of his teeth against my throat made everything inside me quiver.
If this is all we ever have, he said, it’s enough. Know this. Don’t mourn for me.
My throat tightened, and my heart twisted so hard it hurt. I blinked fast, willing the tears back before they betrayed me.
Tugging my hands free, I caught his jaw, pulling him closer until our foreheads touched. I will die for you, Lore. Do anything for you. But you do not get to tell me I cannot mourn. I’ll break. There’s no way around that. Which is why we’re going to save you.
His eyes searched mine. For once, he didn’t argue.
We stayed like that while the storm of everything we hadn’t said surged under the surface. Then he stepped back.
Reality crashed in. Naveer's trials. Dorion's desperation.
The talisman we still needed to find. We moved to the bedroom, the heat between us banked but not extinguished.
The moment the door shut behind us, I crossed to the armoire and pulled out the black leathers I used for training.
The supple fabric was well loved and worn, but it hugged curves without squeaking and was whisper silent when I moved.
I stripped quickly and slid into the outfit piece by piece, fastening each clasp with barely a thought.
At the dresser, I cinched my belt and clipped on the sheaths. The twin daggers Lore had made for me nestled into place at my hips, their hilts smooth and familiar beneath my fingertips.
Behind me, Lore finished strapping a curved blade to his thigh. “Just like a regular night in the tower,” he said without a touch of humor.
“Exactly.” I tilted my head toward the bathing area. “Can you give me a moment or two?”
“Of course.” He sat on the edge of the bed and Farris wiggled over for pats.
I hurried into the bathing area and shut the door.
I'd been thinking about that portrait since dinner, the way those painted eyes had seemed to track my movement. If there was any chance the former queen could provide answers…
Would flitting work for me now? Closing my eyes, I pictured the dining room, Naveer’s chair, and the portrait behind it. I added power.
A blink and I stood peering up at the former queen.
Her eyes locked on mine.
“You were speaking to me,” I said softly. “Tell me why or I’m gone.”
Davalon’s lips curved up on one side. I’m grateful you heard me. Her voice echoed through my mind like dried leaves scraping across stone. So few can.
“What do you want?”
To warn you about my daughter's hunger. The painted queen's expression shifted, becoming almost maternal.
After peering around to make sure I was alone, I lowered my voice. “Do you know who I…”
Know who you are? Of course. I won’t say a thing if you will do something for me.
“Tell me and I’ll decide.”
My daughter collects what cannot be stolen by force. Though I suspect she learned this particular hunger from someone far older and more patient than herself.
I frowned. “What does that mean?”
The chant you heard tonight speaks truth wrapped in pretty words. 'By choice they gave what could not be taken'. My daughter has discovered that willing sacrifice holds far greater power than murder ever could.
“Willing sacrifice of what?”
Davalon's smile widened, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp. What burns brightest when freely given, child? What can rarely be taken by force, yet flows like a river when offered willingly?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Life force. A willing sacrifice of someone’s power.” My stomach dropped. “Through the trials.”
Among other things. She's grown quite creative, though not original. Someone taught her well.
“You?”
Her spine stiffened. Never me. Never for something like this. The painted queen tilted her head. Tell me, what did you think of my granddaughter tonight?
“Laphira seemed…distant.”
She’s witnessed too much. Watching nobles die thinking they were proving their worth, when really they were just feeding my daughter's immortality, will scar a child.
“She’s a woman.”
Davalon shrugged. Her eyes glittered with something that might’ve been malice. The poor girl has been forced to watch every moment, every death. Naveer finds horror amplifies the power she gains.
“That's why Laphira’s so withdrawn.”
Partially. Davalon's lips curved again. There are other reasons, but you'll discover those yourself. If you're clever enough.
“How can I stop this?”
Stop what, child? People choosing to compete? My daughter never forces anyone into her trials. She simply provides opportunities for the brave to prove themselves. The painted queen's laugh was bitter. Choice is a powerful thing, child. Even when that choice leads to death.
“There has to be a way to stop her.”
Perhaps. Some magic runs deeper than surface spells. Davalon's gaze sharpened. Tell me, what do you know of your own abilities?
“I can nullify other people's magic.”
Can you? How interesting. The former queen seemed to consider this. Not all magic can be broken easily, of course. Some spells become part of the very foundations they're built upon. But a skilled practitioner might find creative solutions.
Her image began to waver, solidifying before going fluid once more.
“Wait,” I said quickly. “What do you want me to do to keep you quiet, and what kind of creative solutions are you talking about?”
Look for what sustains rather than what controls, child.
My daughter's power has a source. Find it, and you will find your answers and know what must be done.
But be warned. She's had years to perfect her craft. Ancient grievances have long memories and longer reach. She won’t allow anyone to stop her now.
She turned solid, her gaze staring into the dining room like every other portrait in the room.
I flitted back to the bathing area, my heartrate pounding in my throat.
Lore snapped his arms around me from behind, making me jump.
“Where did you go, my pretty little bride?” His voice dropped to a deadly register that made my heart flip over. “Flitting somewhere, were you?”
“I'm fine—”
“That wasn't what I asked.” His fingertip stroked along the pulse point in my throat. “Tell me where you went, love. Now.”
Turning, I met his stare, refusing to be intimidated even as heat pooled low in my belly. “I went to speak with Queen Davalon's portrait.”
“Without me.”
“It was just for a short time.”