Chapter 45
Isit on the edge of my chair, dinner and the shattered glass long gone, swept up by a servant. Nobles twirl around the dance floor, while others lounge on low settees, veiled by shadows.
On the outskirts of the balcony, Kressa leans against the rail with a glass of wine. She brings her mouth to the rim and glances at me over the edge. I breathe in and stoke the flames climbing beneath my skin—welcome my rage. My hunger for revenge.
A temporary escape from the grief trying to gnaw its way through.
Kressa’s throat bobs on a swallow, and her fingers trace a line down the front of her shirt, dipping over and under the buttons my fingers have begged to undo. The muscles along her forearms shift in the moonlight, and shadows dance over her body, emphasizing every curve.
My dress grows tight, stifling.
A chuff rolls through my mind. Careful, or you’ll start glowing.
She studies the curve of my waist and the high slit of my dress. I hold her gaze as I lift my leg and cross it over the other—the silky fabric draping to the side and exposing my skin to the hip. I drag a finger over my knee and up my thigh, watching as she follows every movement.
Her fingers tighten around her glass.
I drag my teeth over my bottom lip and smile. Would you care to dance?
She tilts her chin at Caelus. You don’t think that would anger him? Or Isolde?
That’s exactly the point.
Her head tilts.
Caelus wants to bind me to him, I say. Tonight.
Kressa sucks in a deep breath and downs her wine, her grip so tight the stem might snap. Consider me at your disposal.
I furrow my brow. You don’t want to know why?
She strides into the room and sets her empty glass on a table. I’m five seconds away from clearing the dais and slitting his throat. So no, I don’t need to know why. Her steps widen. I need you to come to me. Now.
Women dip on the dance floor, and I catch Thea watching me with an expectant look in her eyes.
“Ready?” I mouth.
She presses her lips into a thin line and nods.
I exhale a long breath and rise from my seat. If I don’t survive the night, or if my power is stripped from me, at least she’ll be okay.
Caelus stiffens in his seat beside me. “Where are you going?”
The music slows, the ensemble nearing the end of a song.
I train my eyes into those of a submissive courtesan—wide eyed and innocent—before leveling him with a glare that he could drown in. “I have a surprise for you, my king. Consider it a gift for our binding.”
Beside him, Isolde shifts. “You weren’t given permission to leave your seat.”
I don’t look her way. “I don’t need permission.” I tilt my chin, staring at Caelus down the bridge of my nose. “If you’ll excuse me, Caelus.”
His hands clench, and ice crawls down his arm in a layer of permafrost.
I lift a brow and smirk. “Careful, Your Majesty. Hysterics are unbecoming for a man.”
A stone wedges in my throat—my mind warning me to stop baiting him, but I give him a saccharine smile and curtsy. For far too long, I’ve bent to his whims. No longer.
Ice snakes down the throne, frosting a path toward me, but stops inches from the toe of my shoes.
I back away a step and swallow. As a competitor, his power can’t hurt me. A line appears between his brows, and he tilts his head as Isolde’s eyes narrow.
You have three seconds until I turn this room into a bloodbath, Kressa says. Barely held restraint hangs off the edge of her thoughts.
Breaking Caelus’s assessing stare, I escape down the dais and cross the room to Kressa. Her chest doesn’t move as I approach, as if she can’t breathe until I’m by her side.
She wraps a hand around my arm, and only then does she blink and inhale a breath. If he gets anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.
Her teeth grind together, and I cover her hand with mine, reveling in the way it eases her nerves. The tension in her shoulders melts, along with the tight clench of her jaw.
I drop into a low curtsy. “Spare me a dance, Kressa?”
She presses a kiss to the back of my hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
We weave to the dance floor, and I glance toward the exit. Cloaked in shadows, Thea nods and disappears down the hallway. My heart tugs, urging me to follow, but I need to be here, making time for her to escape.
A distraction.
Bodies crowd the dance floor, and I slip a bracelet from a woman, stashing it in the secret pocket at my hip. I slide a ring off the finger of another—more brazen than typical. But tomorrow’s trip to the safe house could very well be my last.
A string of notes fills the air. Kressa guides me in a wide circle and brings me close enough for our chests to touch.
Her hand anchors to my lower back, branding me with her touch.
We move around the floor, our footsteps perfect mirrors of each other.
As effortless as breathing and as thrilling as sailing my ship.
I catch her staring, and a blush creeps into my cheeks. What?
My life was so different before I met you.
She spins me out—a flash of gold in a sea of blue, and reels me back in.
I slide a finger beneath the edge of her collar and smooth it out. It must have been quite dull, I suppose.
Her gaze darts to my lips. You have no idea.
The music crests, and the strings work faster and faster, yet Kressa moves me around the floor as if we’ve spent a lifetime dancing together. As if our movements dictate the universe. In her arms, I’m at peace.
Warmth spreads under my skin, over my bones, and into my chest. But it’s not the same feeling as when my power yearns for her. It’s different. Unfamiliar.
I trace her features—the cut of her jaw, the way tendrils of hair brush the curve of her ear, the hints of green nestled into her eyes I hadn’t noticed before.
The full moon shines through the balcony, as if it rose for us.
She dips her mouth to my ear. “Not for us, my love. For you.”
I stiffen. “My mind was closed off.”
She smiles against my neck, sending a wave of bumps over my back. “Maybe there’s a reason you can’t lock me out completely.”
“And what would that be?”
“I’m trying to figure that out myself.”
Uncertainty laces her words, but the music quickens and crescendos. I smile. “Should we give them a grand finale?”
She turns her face, brushing her nose over mine. “What do you have in mind?”
“Follow my lead.”
Her hand tightens around me. “Anywhere.”
Lush notes tumble over each other, and the room blurs until the final beat drags out in a mournful tune.
“Dip me.”
In a slow, careful sweep, Kressa guides one hand to the base of my neck and lowers me. The ends of my hair skim the marble, and my dress catches the chandelier light, casting the dance floor in gold.
The music halts, but Kressa makes no move to raise me.
She holds her breath, chest unmoving, as her mouth hovers above mine.
Her thumb drags across the base of my neck, her eyes caught on my lips.
She flicks her gaze to mine, and although shadows cast her face in darkness, her eyes shimmer.
And like salt to the sea, my power calls to her.
Nothing exists beyond the two of us. Nothing but time and space and our intertwined power.
In a single, unhurried movement, she closes the space and melds her lips to mine. They soften and part, letting her in, and my power bursts from its confines. I swipe my tongue against her teeth, and a low groan rumbles from deep within her chest.
My power swirls, dipping with every stroke of her tongue—every draw of her lips, clinging to her touch.
It sinks into the empty cracks and breathes life back into me.
My fingers tighten in her hair, and she angles my head back, deepening the kiss.
Heat spears through me, and flames lap my core, scalding the water coursing through my veins.
I need more. I drag my teeth over her bottom lip and press myself closer. But it isn’t enough—not nearly enough to sate this need.
Kressa pulls away and blinks, eyes full of awe. A small smile creeps over my face, and I run my teeth over my bottom lip, savoring every last drop of her. My power retreats to its confines, but the simmering heat doesn’t withdraw.
She tucks my hair behind my ear and eases me upright. My chest heaves, lungs drawing air after being consumed by her.
From the dais, guards advance on us.
No, not us—me.
“Briar Rielle, you’re under arrest for theft.”
My heart stutters, and my gaze swings to the dais, where Isolde catches my attention. She tilts her chin, and if anyone recognizes the look on her face, it’s me. The scheming tilt of the corner of her lip, the resolve nestled into her eyes.
She turned me in.
I turn my attention toward the guards, draw my blade, and hold it close to my thigh. You stay here. They can’t hurt you, only me.
Guards shove through the crowd, some drawing blades, others pulling arrows from their quivers.
I’m not leaving your side.
Kressa grips my wrist and sprints toward the balcony as a vortex of icy wind blasts through the ballroom. Ladies shriek, nobles cowering to the corners of the room, behind guards. We break out into the night, our hair whipping behind us, and race down the curving marble stairs to the garden below.
Clouds materialize across the clear sky, lightning dancing in their full bellies. Another boom shakes the ground, and rain pours in a sheet, flooding the fake lawn. I slip and kick off my heels, flinging them into the darkness.
My heart races in my throat, but it’s not fear on the tip of my tongue.
It’s freedom.
A wild grin crosses my face, and as my bare feet pound against the ground, I welcome the downpour, the rain blurring my vision.
After a decade, I’m me again.
Guards shout from the balcony, muffled by the wind and rain soaking my hair. Kressa’s is plastered to her face, yet the look in her eyes—a mix of fear and awe.
Something whizzes through the air and lands at our feet.
An arrow.
I swallow a shriek, and she yanks me by my hand. We clear a row of hedges, banking toward a cropping of thick trees as a second arrow pierces the air. It nicks my cheek, drawing blood, and Kressa pulls me down as another shoots over the top of my head.
She guides me behind a tall bush, its synthetic twigs scratching my skin and snagging the dress. A group of guards enters the tree line, swords at the ready.
Kressa wraps an arm around me. As soon as they pass, we’ll head to a hidden door on the other side of these trees.
I nod and sink into the warmth of her side.
And that’s when I smell it.
Fresh, bitter grass. The sweet aroma of a freshly opened flower. Earthy, wet dirt.
Beneath our knees, blades of grass press through. Real grass. Buds gather on the bush and bloom, opening to a brilliant pink. I brush my fingers along the silky petals. Real.
I whip my head to Kressa, but her gaze is pinned on the guards.
They step closer, and twigs crack beneath their feet. One trips over a raised root and slams into the ground with a grunt. Kressa pulls me to her chest and blankets my head with her arms as they pass by.
As soon as they’re out of sight, she grabs my hand.
Let’s go.
I follow, searching for the root the guard tripped over.
It’s nowhere to be found.