10. Chapter 10 #3
Anger sparks through me, hot and welcome. At least anger makes sense in a kingdom where nothing else does.
“I told you yesterday, Your Majesty, I don’t have magic.” I say through gritted teeth, though now my magic is surging in response, and I wonder if he can feel it with his shadows.
His gaze shifts fully to mine, and there it is again—the underlying magnetic pull that makes me physically incapable of looking away from him.
I want to argue with him in this moment, but I… can’t. We stare at each other for a long moment, and I feel the tension building. I wonder if he can feel it, too? His eyes are the most beautiful shade of gray—no, silver? They look as if there are silver swirls within them.
His eyes roam down to my mouth, and I inhale softly. He tracks the movement of my lips as I inhale and my eyes roam his face, searching. Is this the king that has the entire continent terrified? What if they were wrong?
NO. No, they aren’t wrong, and this man is a monster. I would know because he issued the order that had my parents killed on his hunt for magic. Just like his father before him did. Looking for someone like ME.
He reaches his arm out again, and I know what he’s about to do. I lift my hand weakly to block his path, but his hand is already cupping my face.
“Lyra,” he says softly, and I don’t know what it is about him that makes me move closer.
I’m not consciously moving, it just happens.
I feel the excitement of my magic, ready to reach out to him.
I suppress it. It’s drawn to him, just like I seem to be.
I hate it, but I don’t know how to turn it off.
His fingers trail along my face, fingers running through my hair as his free hand pulls my bottom lip down, inching his face closer to mine. He is so much taller than me that he has to bend down, and I feel his face inches from mine, smell the sweet scent of mint on his breath.
“Your Majesty—”
“Call me Thorin. You don’t address me as Your Majesty.” His eyes soften as they roam my face.
“I—Your Maj—”
He places his fingers at my lips to silence me as his fingers begin to trail my bottom lip, then down the side of my neck, the softest caress that has ever touched my skin.
I’ve only had one lover in Elvora, Simon, and his touch dulls in comparison to the traitorous way my body reacts to Thorin’s touch.
He pulls back, eyes searching mine as his fingers trail down to my throat and lower, nearing the swell of my breasts that are visible in the fitted gown.
“Thorin. You will call me Thorin.”
I’m flushed, hot, confused. The way I respond to him is unnatural. It’s like a pull that I can’t resist, but I want to resist it.
“What do you want from me, Thorin?” I ask softly, running my finger over my bottom lip where his finger had lingered.
“I want you to stop lying to me.” He places his hand around my neck, his grip gentle as he stares into my eyes. Every instinct tells me to shove him away. My body seems intent on betraying every one of them. I want to kill him. My body wants to feel him crushed against me. What in Illurine’s name …
“I’m not lying.” I spit out once my ragged breathing has evened out. I’m lying. I know it, and I’m sure he knows it too. That won’t stop me from denying it. The warmth that lingered in his eyes a few moments ago is gone, and the stoic, expressionless king is back.
“Are you afraid?”
I laugh once, humorless. “Of you? Astounding observation. The entire continent is terrified of you.”
“You have many things wrong about me, Lyra Tarethyn,” he continues, letting his hand drop to his side.
His voice lowers as he moves close enough to my face that I can feel his breath on my skin, smell the sweet mint and honey on his breath. “You are afraid of what happens when you stop pretending you are ordinary. You can hide from everyone else, Lyra, but I see you. I know what you are.”
In this moment, I hate Thorin, I hate him for seeing too much. I hate him for what he’s done. And I hate that, despite my obvious hatred for him, I can’t seem to deny the pull that is obviously between us.
“You know nothing about me.” I snap, taking a step back to look up at him.
“Do you not heal the dying in Elvora? You masquerade as a healer, but you are so much more.”
My blood goes cold. How would he know that?
“I know you have spent your life hiding something that does not wish to remain hidden.”
I take another step back, but shadows slide across the path behind me, curling into a dark line at my heels, blocking my exit.
My heart begins to pound and now I feel genuine terror.
How funny that emotions can switch like that—one moment I want his hands on my body, the next I am terrified that he will hurt me.
“Move your shadows,” I command, squaring my shoulders and staring at him.
“I will not. You will get used to them soon enough.”
“Thorin—”
His name leaves my mouth before I think better of it and the shadows stir.
For one dangerous second, the air changes.
His gaze sharpens, and satisfaction flickers behind his eyes before vanishing beneath that cold, unreadable mask.
I wish I could snatch the name back and swallow it whole but it’s too late.
“It is simple. Use your magic.” His voice is cold and steely, leaving no room for refusal.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why do you think you hold any power here?”
“Because you want me to do something for you. Something that I can’t do. So that gives me the ability to say NO.”
The shadows rise higher behind me, enough to make the point clear. He’s not asking. Not really. The knowledge sends fury tearing through my chest, bright and hot enough that my fingers tremble.
“You think forcing me will help?” I snap. “Is that how kings solve everything? A command, a cage, a shadow at someone’s back?”
His jaw tightens at that. Good. Let him be as pissed off as I am right now.
“You believe this is cruelty?” His question seems genuine.
“I believe trapping a woman in your palace and ordering her to touch dead flowers does not exactly scream kindness.”