Chapter 17
No, is the answer to his question. What the hell is he playing at?
I don’t want to dance with him.
I want to scream at him. Claw at him. Run a sword through his cowardly ribs so he can feel just a fraction of the pain that my heart is suffering.
Only I can’t do any of that.
Especially not here at my sister’s wedding announcement, and he knows it.
Manipulative shit. It’s the very reason he asked me.
It’s a fucking test of the cruellest type.
A reminder that whatever I once thought we were, I am now nothing but his royal subject.
That he has always held every inch of power in this farce of a relationship.
‘I actually just asked the gifted to dance myself,’ Benny says, trying to give me an out. ‘I’m sure she’ll make time for you later.’
Kyor doesn’t so much as blink in Benny’s direction. ‘She promised me a dance. One dance.’
I did. Back when I thought he loved me.
‘One dance, gifted, unless you find yourself wanting more.’
A dry scoff breaks from me. ‘Unlikely,’ I tell him. ‘Fine. One dance. And keep your hands to yourself.’
‘When dancing it is customary to touch,’ he says drily. ‘I’ll have to put my hands on you somewhere.’
I wish the thought didn’t fill me with adrenaline, but my damn body’s a traitor. It always has been with him.
And it’s even worse now that it knows what those hands can do. Even worse than when I just imagined the feel of his fingers against mine.
Fuck, why is it impossible to keep my thoughts straight?
Leaving Benny watching on, I allow Kyor to lead me across to the dance floor.
He’s dressed formally, yet his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his forearms in a way that makes me think he could be ready to fight at any moment.
Fight or maybe something else. He knows I love the sight of his muscled forearms. The prick is playing dirty.
‘So,’ he whispers as he interlocks our fingers and presses his palm against mine, ‘is this touching okay?’
I stifle the urge to hold my breath. We’re just holding hands, I remind myself. People hold hands every day.
But with the feel of his skin against mine, my mind all but disintegrates. All I can think about are the best parts of us. Lying with my head against his shoulder. Laughing as we descended a cliff together in the fourth trial.
How is it possible to still love someone so much even while knowing all the hurt they’ve caused you?
I am a fool.
‘It’ll do,’ I say shortly.
He frowns. ‘Really? I’m not sure this is the most comfortable position to dance in. We’ll draw attention, Kultavaris, and we don’t want that, do we?’
Annoyingly, he’s right.
I jerk my head in a nod. ‘Fine,’ I spit.
‘How about I just slip one hand around here …’ He releases my fingers and slips his arms around my waist. With his hand on the small of my back, he pulls me into him. There’s no stifling my gasp as it flies from my lungs.
‘Gods I miss hearing you gasp like that,’ he whispers, voice husky.
‘Gasp. Moan. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.
’ His breath grazes my lips in the most intoxicating almost-kiss I could dream of.
A millimetre closer and I’m not sure I’d be able to resist. ‘I’ve missed breaking you in ways you can’t imagine. ’
His choice of words whips me out of the moment, and a bitter scoff cracks from my throat. ‘Believe me, I know well all the ways you can break me. Speak to me inappropriately again, and audience or not, I will knee you in the bollocks. What little you have.’
Regret consumes his expression. ‘Rose. I didn’t mean …
’ He shakes his head. ‘Forget I said anything. We’re dancing, right?
’ He pulls me in closer still so that every inch of my chest braces against the hard contours of his body.
It would be so easy to fold myself into him.
To place my lips against his and taste him like we’re the only people in the room.
But my last thread of common sense is still there, holding the fractals of me together, and so I hold myself rigid, as unmoving as a plank of wood.
His hand moves to the base of my spine, but I remain tense and unhappy in his arms.
The moment is agonisingly atrocious. It’s as if time has no place here. The music continues on and on in the longest dance of my life. I am begging Etta to make the misery end when a figure strides towards us – a man of similar age to Kyor with striking dark skin and vivid eyes.
‘Your Royal Highness.’ He dips his head politely at Kyor before turning his attention to me. ‘Gifted, I was wondering if you would do me the honour of the next dance?’
‘Oh …’ My mouth opens in surprise as I struggle to respond while he stretches his hand out to me.
Scars stretch up his forearm, and I have no doubt that this isn’t just a pretty courtier I’m faced with, but someone who has actually fought.
Someone with balls. I’m about to accept his offer, if only to spite Kyor, when the prince answers for me, domineering arsehole that he is.
‘No.’ Kyor’s voice is as icy as his eyes. ‘The gifted will not be dancing with anyone else tonight.’
With my jaw now hanging loose, I turn and look at the prince, only to feel the static raging from him. And I’m not the only one. The lord, whoever he might be, begins to shuffle away awkwardly.
‘I understand. Sorry for the interruption,’ he says before scurrying backward. Okay. Maybe he didn’t have balls after all.
My attention snaps back to Kyor.
‘You don’t have the right to do that,’ I snarl. ‘You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do, and you can’t just send courtiers away because you don’t want them to speak to me.’
A dry scoff cracks in his throat. ‘I believe you’ll find that in my palace, Lady Kultavaris, I can do exactly as I please with my courtiers.’
‘Indeed,’ I snap. ‘Even cast them aside.’
Regret instantly clouds his eyes, and I have no time or patience for it.
‘It’s good to know where we all stand. It’s important to know one’s place,’ I say. I step back from him and offer a deep curtsey – the type I know he despises.
His eyes flash, and a grim smile curls my lips at the sight of his fists being clenched.
He’s upset. Good. He deserves to be.
‘I believe I have given you the one dance I promised, Your Royal Highness.’ I sniff. ‘Now, if I have your royal permission, I would like to celebrate my sister’s marriage.’
His eyes widen and his lips part as he readies to respond, but whatever he’s going to say, I don’t want to hear it. And so I turn around and head back to Benny without another word.
‘All right?’ Benny asks as I rejoin him.
‘Fuck him,’ I snarl.
‘I believe that’s what got you into this mess in the first place.’
I level a glare at my friend, and he winces. ‘Sorry. Too soon.’
Despite the urge to drink my way through the night, we plan to escape from Wrohelm while it’s still dark, and so I stick to water and try to focus on Kay and William and the fact that these are the last few hours I’m going to get with them.
It’s tough. An intricate balance. The last thing I want to do is draw attention to William by spending too much time with him – especially given how much I basically ignored him at other balls before now – and Kay is clearly revelling in having her moment.
I don’t want to ruin that, but I still manage to snatch precious moments with them both.
Moments I emblazon into my memory for the coming moons we’ll spend apart.
A little after midnight, Benny disappears and I pull my siblings and Jonas into one of the anterooms. I change out of my ballgown, handing it to Kay, and stand ready in my leathers.
It’s only when I look around that I realise which room I’m in: the library – the one where I finally gave in to the need to feel Kyor’s lips on mine.
It was the same room in which I first told him I trusted him, and I truly had at the time.
Fool.
It was also the same room where I heard Caz scream out before Llinos took her final breath.
Maybe it’s an ill omen, being in here to say goodbye.
Maybe this trip is already cursed.
Stifling the tears that threaten to fall, I look back at Jonas.
‘Keep them safe. All of them,’ I demand of him. ‘Kay, William, the baby. Swear it.’
Jonas nods. ‘I swear it. With everything that I am, I will protect them.’
There’s not the slightest hint of doubt in his voice, and Mortidem take me, I believe him.
‘It won’t be forever,’ William replies. His youthful optimism stings between my ribs.
‘No, it won’t be forever,’ I agree, because that’s a nicer note to leave things on than talking of me dying on the Hirathean Path.
Because deep down, we all know that’s what is most likely to happen.
Soldiers don’t come back from the North.
Knighted guards with their bonded dire wolves lose their lives to the barbarians that roam the lands.
Barbarians I’m actively going in search of.
And who am I? Certainly no bonded warrior. I am the gifted – part Issen, part Morathkian, and wholly an emotional wreck.
Not exactly a hero in the making.
Yet as I look at William, I force myself to match his optimism. And then, because I desperately need to, I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him so tightly that I feel myself doubting whether I want to leave at all.
My little brother is alive. I have him with me, and yet here I am, leaving him. It goes against everything I believe in, everything I want to do, but it is the best way to protect him. And Mother and Father would have wanted me to do that.
It’s what they would have done – anything to keep us safe.
Finally, I look at Kay. ‘I love you. So much. Take care of that baby for me. I’ve made you tonics. Summer will tell you where they are. I need the little one healthy for when I meet them.’
Tears glisten in her eyes.
‘You will meet them, won’t you?’ There’s no denying the quaver in her voice.
‘I will,’ I promise, glad she doesn’t have Benny or Caz’s ability to see right through me. ‘I will see you all again.’