Chapter 17 #2
I withdraw another dagger from the straps along my thighs.
Across the room, Tristan wipes blood from the corner of his mouth.
There’s pain behind his eyes, but he doesn’t let it slow him down.
He advances again, sword flickering with shadow.
This time, when he strikes, his dark power tightens around the beast. The creature stops advancing toward me, pinned by the weight of shadows.
But even as it staggers, its jaws yawn wide.
Rows of jagged teeth glisten with frost.
The creature’s unnatural howl makes colors burn across my vision, violent and dazzling. My knees buckle as the world swims. Tristan shouts something, but his words are lost in the roaring echoes that bounce endlessly off the stone of the ruined temple.
I rise, trembling. The creature lunges at me again. I throw another dagger as I dive out of its path. The blade lodges in the creature’s eye. Shards of ice spatter from the wound instead of blood, shattering when they hit the ground.
Tristan doesn’t hesitate. With a final strike, he drives his sword deep into the creature’s heart. Darkness rushes from the blade, flooding the beast with writhing tendrils of shadow that flicker behind its eyes and out its nostrils.
The beast howls once more, and the sound bounces off the stone columns, destroying what remains of the window.
For one breathless moment, it’s still. Its remaining eye fixes on me.
Then it collapses, its body exploding into fragments of ice that skitter across the temple’s marble floor.
Outside, the winter wind carries its last echoing howls away.
I turn to Tristan, relief swelling in my chest, until I see him stagger. His sword clatters to the ground, and he presses a hand to his ribs.
“Tristan!” I rush to his side, heart hammering. “You’re hurt.”
He grimaces. “I’ve had worse.”
“Sit down.”
He doesn’t move. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be.
Our eyes meet and, for once, he doesn’t argue further. That alone tells me how much pain he’s in. He leans against a nearby pillar and slides to the ground with a quiet exhale, his jaw tight.
My eyes flicker up to his. “I’m going to have to get a better look.”
He nods curtly.
Gently, I pull the fabric of his wool shirt up over his stomach.
He hisses in pain but doesn’t stop me. My eyes grow wide at the sight.
His ribs are a mottled mess in the moonlight.
No doubt he has at least one cracked rib, likely more.
I suck in a breath. At any other time, I’d use my powers to heal him.
I’ve relied on my gifts my entire life, but now I have to admit that there’s nothing I can do.
Guilt and shame tumble inside me. What good is a Fox Heir with no power? Who am I if I can’t even heal bruised ribs? My chest tightens until I can hardly breathe.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Tristan’s stomach muscles flinch, and he lets out a tight groan. “It’s not your fault.”
I move my hands over the mottled swelling. My fingertips hesitate, hovering just above his skin. Something stirs inside of me, faint as breath on glass, but it’s gone before I can grasp it. With a pang of regret, I pull away.
“It’s alright, Red.” He sounds almost disappointed. As if he thought the sight of his injury would trigger something in me. That it would make my powers surge back to help him. But my core is just as hollow as it’s been since I arrived in Gwyllion.
“No, it isn’t.”
He shrugs, then winces. “I’ll heal like I always do. With time.”
“That isn’t the point.”
His cut lips press into a thin line, but something soft flickers in his gaze.
He pulls his shirt back down over his ribs and slowly rises to his feet.
My eyes drift up to his face to find that he’s staring down at me.
He holds out a hand. I hesitate before grabbing his calloused palm.
He lifts me to my feet and, for a breathless moment, we stand there, inches apart.
I swallow, hard. My heart is hammering in my chest, and my skin is prickling beneath his gaze.
Under my tunic, my body flares with heat.
I blink away the mental image of me, leaning into him.
Of my hands taking him by the collar of his shirt and pressing my lips to his.
Of the feel of his hard body pressed against mine in this ice-filled temple, where there’s no one around to witness the awful, delicious things my body craves to do to him.
I suck in a breath and start to turn from him, but Tristan catches my wrist. His eyes find mine again. My wrist burns where he’s touching me, but not from pain. His fingers tighten just enough to remind me how easily he could pull me closer. And how much I want him to.
The ruined temple is silent around us. It feels as if the icy north is waiting to see what choice we’ll make, here, alone in the darkness of a ruined sanctuary.
I want him. And the look in his eyes suggests he’d like nothing more than to press me against the temple’s altar and take me right here. My body responds to the thought. Heat pools low in my belly, and my nipples harden. Every inch of me begs to give in, to surrender to instinct and desire.
Yes, I want him. But I can’t let that happen.
“Your power will return.” His voice is steady, assured.
“Why do you have so much faith in me?”
His eyebrows draw together over his gray eyes. “Because I see you, Red. Not your power, not your family’s throne. You.” His voice is tinged with something dangerously close to longing.
My heart stills. “Do you still see a spoiled heir?”
He shakes his head slowly. “No. I see a woman who’s going to bring kingdoms to their knees and leave blood in her wake.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“Only to those who get in your way.”
A thrill rushes through me at his words, but I tamp it down. “Right now, it looks like I’m in my own way.”
He gives me a dark smile. “Just a temporary diversion on your path of ruin.”
The temple fades around us as heat unfurls low in my belly. His breathing is uneven now, mirroring mine. He shifts just enough that the distance between us narrows. Just enough that I can feel his warmth radiating through the chilled air. His gaze drops to my lips, then back up to my eyes.
Suddenly, the queen’s warning echoes in the back of my mind. This is a dangerous game we’re playing, and I can’t afford to get distracted. I jerk my wrist away. For one long moment, we stare at each other, daring one other to make a different choice. But we don’t.
I turn, pick up my cloak from the icy ground, and walk out of the temple as I try to gather the pieces of myself that have just come undone.
Even so, I feel his presence behind me. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t reach for me.
He doesn’t need to. The weight of what just passed between us follows me like a shadow, impossible to ignore.
I still don’t trust him. Not completely. But in this moment, I realize something far more dangerous.
I want to.