Chapter 3
Theron
Theron ran his hands down his face, biting back a groan.
He’d barely slept, and the first weak pale blue of dawn was threatening to put an end to any hope of rest. It might have been better to consign Aurora to Orithyia’s tent after all.
For in the night, he’d discovered a fatal weakness in himself—her tears.
She’d made nary a whimper, refused to use her sorrow as a weapon, and yet she’d planted dagger after dagger in his heart all the same.
Theron had been forced to reckon with the fact that she truly believed him a monster, an agent of chaos, a chain.
One she intended to flee the moment her goal was accomplished.
He turned his head to look at her, or more precisely, her back. Her long blonde braid was mussed by sleep, her ears occasionally twitching as she dreamed. Curled into a little ball, she’d not moved once, as if even at her most vulnerable she refused to seek him out.
Would she truly leave him? Abandon all he could give her, forget the passion they’d shared, and move on? He’d wanted to believe it had been a bluff, but her tears convinced him otherwise.
With his conscience biting him all night, Theron slipped into a dark morass of fear and doubt.
If she hadn’t been allied with either Flora or Orithyia before she’d discovered Batea’s beasts, then what they’d shared had been true.
It also meant he’d fucked up—royally. But that was only if she’d not been an enemy all along.
Part of him wished she were. At least that way he could discard the fear and doubt, the guilt, this horrible heartsickness.
Theron turned away from her and pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing his breath in a long, slow exhale.
He had to think rationally. There was already a plan in place to deal with the Viridians marching towards his kingdom.
But what of Aurora? What could he do to determine the truth and, if she proved true, repair the damage?
On that matter, his mind was distressingly blank.
What he couldn’t do was allow her to gift her visions to his enemies. That required keeping her close. Easy enough to do after the warning he’d given Stentor. But would that closeness open her heart or harden it?
Theron massaged his temples. He couldn’t afford this doubt.
Lust had brought them together and Passion had dyed their thread.
Whatever Aurora said, she couldn’t deny the sparks between them.
Even when he hated her, he still yearned for the little traitor.
Her betrayal hadn’t changed her intoxicating beauty, and he could only hope she felt the same.
But how to begin chipping away at her armour?
As much as he hated to admit it, she was better at denying her lusts than he.
What he needed was an opening.
But that required an opportunity. Signalling to the Viridians that she belonged to him and not their queen, cutting her off from their poisonous influence and any thought of alliance had to come first. That, at least, he could act on.
Theron rose from the bed and untied Aurora, still deep in sleep.
Her eyes were red and puffy. He’d done that.
Another sharp pain in his heart. Gathering his magic, he healed her, using his own energy rather than hers.
It was as much of an apology as he could give her when his doubts lingered.
That done, he went to the soldiers guarding his tent.
“Your Majesty,” they said, bowing.
“Find the baggage cart with her Viridian clothes and make them disappear.”
The camp would rouse in another hour or so, but until then, the baggage train was vulnerable. Only a few soldiers were guarding it, all nearing the end of their shifts. And with the wild magic his people possessed, such a task would be simple.
The guards bowed and one of them left to do as he was bid while the other remained at his post.
Theron stepped back into his tent and sat down at the table, mulling his options.
Once he’d separated her from the Viridians visually, he needed to drive a larger wedge between them.
Clearly, they wanted her to use her magic for them.
Stentor’s punishment would give them pause—provided he hadn’t fled back to Boreas already.
No doubt Aurora would want the general to be spared the death he so richly deserved.
And if she requested mercy, he could use that to get concessions out of her.
If not, well…he would enjoy whipping the bastard into an early grave.
Restless and bored, the king of Aureum got up from his seat and paced.
Was he really contemplating giving the vicious little fairy another chance to harm him—harm his kingdom?
If she were anyone else, he would have killed her on the spot.
And yet this need to return to the way things were between them clawed at him.
He couldn’t let go of the promise of what they could have had.
Theron crouched beside her, his eyes roaming her face as she slept.
His traitorous heart clenched with hurt and…
yearning. It wasn’t fair. Passion had promised her to him, and yet not a day after Her blessing, his fated had stuck a dagger in his back.
He wanted her and yet he wanted nothing to do with her.
Was there any winning against the fate a goddess had spun for him?
Aurora woke from her sleep, blinking blearily. Their eyes met.
In that moment, everything changed.
She smiled at him, green eyes twinkling with affection. As if time had slowed, he existed in that half a heartbeat for a lifetime. His heart stuttered. An ache spread up his chest to his throat.
Want.
Need.
This was his fated. His wife. His Aurora. She was the woman Passion had tied him to. The woman who had made it past his defences and into his guarded heart. The reason he wanted to be a good man—a good husband. The fate he willingly entangled himself in.
And yet in the span of a heartbeat, her expression shuttered. Affection withered on the vine. Here was the woman with hatred in her eyes and disgust twisting her lips.
The loss hollowed him out.
Left crouching in the ashes of her former warmth, Theron clenched his hands. He was a king. And kings didn’t stop until they got what they wanted. If he wanted Aurora, his Aurora, the one full of affection and laughter, then he would do all in his power to get her back.
But he was not inclined to be kind. Not after everything she’d done.
Presently, she thought him a villain. In this instance, he had no reason to disabuse her of that notion.
Myrina had told him to let her know him.
So be it. Let her see the depths of his cruelty so that she could understand how good she’d had it when she’d possessed all his affection.
Let her wish to have that part of him again—to yearn for it as desperately as he yearned for her light.
And that plan began with separating her from the poison of Viridian influence.
“Get dressed. We have an execution to preside over,” Theron said, smiling.
“What?” she gasped, eyes wide as she sat up in shock.
“Stentor, remember? He’s to be punished today for daring to harm you.” He stood, striding over to their table and fiddling with the décor as his heart raced.
“Were yesterday’s theatrics not enough to sate your bloodlust?
” she hissed, stepping from the bed and tossing the clothes aside in the chest, looking for anything that wasn’t gold.
She’d have no luck on that front. By the time she realized it, she was flushed with embarrassment.
Aurora grabbed her Aurean clothes and glared at him tellingly.
“My well-timed rescue spared you a gruesome maiming at Orithyia’s hands.
You’re welcome,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
Heat rushed up her neck as she gritted her teeth.
He turned away, allowing her to dress with some measure of privacy.
When she was done, he turned around and sat down, raising his chin at her.
She stood by the bed, refusing to come closer.
“Whether you consider yourself my wife or Flora’s princess, Stentor knew the consequences for what he asked of you. It was a request made because neither he nor any other Viridian stalking our steps considers you a true royal.”
“I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. Not them. Not Orithyia. Not you. I didn’t come here for any of you—I came for Drakon.”
That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He leaned back, affecting a relaxed pose to hide his unease.
“And you think you can convince them to battle the beast for you when you can’t even convince them not to maim you for their benefit?”
“I’m willing to pay whatever price I need to in order to defeat Drakon. If I pay in blood and pain, then it’s no different from what I’ve already suffered.”
Goddesses take this woman. Why in the Loom was she so ready to sacrifice herself? Where was her self-preservation?
“I won’t allow it.”
“Why? You clearly don’t care about me. The only thing you care about is your pride!”
“You are mine! I’ll be thrice-damned before I let some Viridian scum use you,” he snarled, banging his hand on the table.
She laughed bitterly.
“Because the only one who can use and hurt me is you?”
Theron stood from his seat and prowled over to her.
She stood her ground, her eyes emerald daggers.
He slipped his hand around her throat, his palm barely touching the side of her neck, his fingers curling around the back of her head.
Tipping her chin up with his thumb, Theron spoke softly but with the bite of promise.
“I am the only one allowed to punish you.”
Her eyes darkened and he pressed his advantage. Here was the woman who desired him as much as he desired her—foolishly, recklessly, desperately.