Chapter Seventeen #2
My lips part, and his stare doesn’t waver from me until three hundred pounds of muscle collide into his side and take them both to the ground.
An involuntary noise of alarm leaves my mouth, but Darrius is quick to vault to his feet, his lithe body moving like liquid, and he returns the attack, despite the fact that that blow would have killed a lesser man.
The onlookers go wild, money changing hands as more wagers are made.
The king swipes his opponent’s feet from under him, and the crowd cheers as he follows up with a slew of vicious strikes.
For such a big man, his body is poetry in motion, moving with such sublime grace that he could be dancing in a ballroom.
Darrius doesn’t look at me, though I sense that the connection between us is as intense and visceral as ever.
I can’t explain how he can feel me, only that I know if I were to move an inch, he’d be aware of it in seconds.
How is he doing that? Focusing on the fight and me at the same time?
I can barely control my own traitorous body.
You were given orders to go to the stables.
I startle at his deep voice resounding in my head. Somewhat awed but hiding it, I send my thoughts back. Don’t blame me. It’s your sister’s fault we took this detour.
He doesn’t reply—perhaps because he’s fending off his enemy with a series of spinning kicks that makes my breath catch.
The expression on his face shows nothing—no pain, no anger, no triumph.
In fact, the only spark of emotion I’d seen was when he’d noticed me.
He fights with a cold, unearthly precision, every attack perfectly timed and executed.
Suddenly, the man he’s sparring with transforms into a snake and wraps his sinuous body around him in heavy green coils.
I hiss out a sharp breath, but Darrius doesn’t even appear to be worried.
I shouldn’t have been alarmed, either, because in the next second, his entire body dissolves into a vortex of shadows that swallows the snake entirely for a handful of heartbeats.
Sands, will the shadows eviscerate the snake? But in a blink of an eye, they release their prey and dissipate, and the two men face off once more.
Slightly traumatized, I glance at Ani. “That was . . . unusual.”
She grins at my pale face. “Magic is a weapon like any other here and meant to be used. It’s a gift on and off the battlefield.”
“I bet.”
I’ll deal with my sister later. You should not be here.
Stars, even his inner voice is domineering. Why? Are you worried that I’ll use your distraction to subvert your precious kingdom?
I sense the burst of irritation, barely visible in the tightening of his facial muscles, and I revel for a foolish second in the fact that I alone can disrupt that stony, impenetrable exterior.
Careful, Starbright.
I lift a brow when his eyes catch mine for a split second. I thought “intrusion into the mind is an indelicate, invasive thing” and that you require consent?
I am projecting my own thoughts. You are choosing to receive them and reply, which in its own way implies tacit permission.
Very well, then I choose to send this.
I envision the clearest picture of a middle finger I can manage.
He must have decided he’s done with sparring, because he lets out a growl that I can feel to my toes and takes his adversary to the ground with one knee to the back and an arm around his neck.
The man yields with a shout, and a chorus of cheers and groans ensues as wagers are concluded with coin changing hands.
The end of the match is so fast and so easy that I wonder why the king wasn’t fighting with all of his skill before.
And then the answer is obvious when he vaults the fence and comes striding up the small hill toward Ani and me.
Shit. I straighten as he closes the distance, ready to do some verbal sparring of my own, but then his delicious scent surrounds me, and I can barely put up any kind of valiant offense.
My senses scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.
Gods, it isn’t fair for a man to smell so good.
I swallow my groan. When did I develop some kind of peculiar olfactory obsession?
My eyes rove over his exposed skin. Or a tattoo and glistening muscles obsession?
Those inky designs curl lovingly over his defined body in intricate swirls, arrowing down his torso to those dangerously low pants.
Do the markings go all the way down? I feel my core clench even as I yank my gaze back to a respectable level.
Down, girl.
“This isn’t the stables, sister dear,” he says to Ani. He slings an arm over her shoulders, dragging her close, and she squeals.
“You’re sweaty and disgusting. Get off!” She shoves him away, and he laughs. Laughs! “And we were on the way to the stables. I opted for the scenic route.”
I’m picking my jaw up off the ground as I watch the interaction in surprise—a far cry from the stilted, rude ones I’d seen before.
But I suppose the first time in my room, he’d been more concerned with guarding his precious secrets from an interloper, and in the throne room, Ani had been his scribe.
“You should spar more,” he tells her. “We miss your skills in the ring.”
My brows shoot up. Ani looks like a strong wind could blow her over.
“I’ve been busy with my duties, Dare,” she says, eyes flicking to me before she shrugs. “The king of Oryndhr has been difficult, insisting we’ve committed an act of war. He refuses to be civil or reasonable. And the horde clans are refusing to agree on anything, as usual.”
Surprise makes me falter again. Darrius must trust her implicitly to let her speak on his behalf to another king or be a representative to his subjects.
I love that, especially because she’s a woman.
In Oryndhr, women are valued only for breeding and marriage.
It’s inspiring to see one in a position of influence.
“War serves no one,” he says, and I feel his gaze brush over me. “Stall Acharia if you can. Until we have all the information about the matter in question, I refuse to concede to his demands. What of the basilisk attack?” he asks her.
I perk up with interest, recalling the farmer who had asked for help. “It’s gone,” Ani says. “The men hunted for hours. No sign of it.”
Darrius scrubs his jaw. “I’m not convinced it’s gone for good.”
She nods. “Me, either. They’re territorial and don’t give up that easily, even if they’re sick. Maybe we’re lucky and it’s dead somewhere, but we can’t take that chance.”
“Agree. Set up a patrol.”
With a wink, Ani cants her head in automatic deference. “One step ahead of you, brother.”
His smile is fond . . . and genuine. Sands on fire, I nearly swoon at the unexpected sight and what it does to that austere face. “You always are. Very well, keep me informed of any developments.”
“Of course, Dare.”
The entire conversation and the obvious use of a nickname imply that they’re closer than I realized.
If I had to guess, I would say that Ani is the official hand of the king, and who better to act in his stead than his own sister?
It makes me grudgingly admire him more. Some men are threatened by women in power, but clearly not this monarch.
As if feeling my shifting esteem, the king turns and glances in my direction. “Change of plans then, since you and my marauding sister don’t take orders from your sovereign seriously.”
Faced with a full-frontal view of that rock-hard abdomen, I can’t even pretend to have a snappy comeback. I’m too busy keeping my fingers from reaching out to touch every ridge. “Don’t you have a shirt?” I mumble.
A corner of his lips curls. “Too much to handle?”
“Hardly,” I manage, but my ears feel like they’re melting off the sides of my head.
With a low chuckle, the king waves his hand and a portal forms. I still can’t get over how easily magic is wielded here. His magic in particular. “Where are we going?” I ask.
“Razulek has recovered.”
My heart races at the thought of seeing the mystical creature from my memories in actuality, and I very eagerly follow the king through the portal. Swiveling, I roll my eyes at a smirking Ani, who pretends to be wiping her chin of drool behind her brother’s back. What an imp!
We emerge on the cliffside of a mountain, and I can see the rise of higher crests beyond. The portal winks out of existence. “Are these the Barrin Mountains?”
“Yes. We’re in the Bone Forest, the hunting grounds of oviparous azdahas,” he says.
“Their main colony is to the northwest.” I swallow as I glance around nervously, half expecting one of the enormous creatures to fly at me out of nowhere in a protective rage over its eggs.
A few graceful shadows that look like specks, though I know they are massive, soar high in the sky.
I wonder how fast they can fly—they’d be lethal in battle. Or while hunting.
The king snorts when I unconsciously take a step closer to him. “Don’t worry. They lay eggs in the depths of Deadman’s Canyon at the hottest part of the realm’s core. That’s where their younglings hatch and where they’re the most territorial.”
“That man from the throne room. Lord Donnan. He said he was hunting the eggs?”
The king’s stern face tightens. “They’re very valuable. They’re rare and getting rarer. Azdahas live long lives, but their fertility rates are low. It’s against our laws to steal the eggs.”
“Razulek told me he has a mate,” I murmur without thinking.
The king inhales sharply. “He did, did he?”
“Why? Was that wrong?”
He shakes his head. “Azdahas rarely speak to others unless they’re bonded via akasha.”
“Well, he spoke to me.” I worry my lip with my teeth. “He knew I was no danger to him.”
King Darrius doesn’t answer, both of us distracted by the thunderous whoosh of incoming massive wings. I let out a small shriek when a huge shape sucks up the remaining light and thumps to the ground in front of me, sending a small landslide of rocks cascading down the cliff.