Chapter 20 #2
Pain flashes across his face. "You really think Cas would betray us? What would he have to gain? He was raised alongside us!"
I look away and swallow. I hate that I don’t have answers to those questions. That I even have to doubt him at all. I force myself to breathe and look at him again.
"Why does Constantine even care? We're not children anymore."
"It would be a treaty violation. The Sages weren't supposed to raise anyone. Not without Council approval."
"And arresting the Veritas mapmaker isn't a violation?"
His jaw tightens. "We might see it that way. But the Sages haven't retaliated."
"Why would they want the Sages to retaliate?"
"I don't know." He runs a hand through his hair.
"All I know is Constantine is furious that the Sages raised children without his knowledge.
The visitors keep mentioning an heir—Cato's son—and Constantine keeps insisting he's the heir.
But behind closed doors, he's obsessed with the children the Sages raised.
" His eyes meet mine. "It's only a matter of time before they discover you were singled out. That there were seven."
My heart plummets. There are so many threads to follow here, so many dangers. But one terrifies me more than the rest. "Lo. Three of you are in their territory. In their fold."
"We were young when we arrived at the Dueling Estate. The Sages provide housing for some duelers. It wouldn't seem strange that we went home on weekends." His smile is sad, resigned. "Besides, we're too popular now. Hurting us would hurt their image."
"That's not protection, Arlo. That's leverage." I press a hand to my forehead. "Gods, I hate this. All of it."
"Just be careful what you say around the visitors. The Council is more vigilant than I've ever seen them."
I think of the hunters in the alley. The Everlasting branded into their skin. I keep my face neutral. The lights flicker. A wave of discomfort floods through the bond—not mine. Footsteps in the hallway. We both turn toward the door. I realize too late that I never locked it.
"I have to go." Arlo snatches his cloak and moves toward the large mirror at the back of the room.
I rush to him, pull him into one last embrace as he swings the mirror open.
"Please be careful."
"You be careful." He grabs my face, presses a hard kiss to my forehead and slips into the darkness beyond.
The mirror swings shut behind him. The mirror hasn't finished closing before the door bursts open behind me. I spin, heart in my throat. Malachi fills the doorway.
His eyes sweep the room, land on the mirror, then snap to me.
He steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him, the lock clicking into place.
The look on his face makes my breath catch.
Gone is the man who walked with me under the oaks, speaking of bonded mates and ancient words.
This is the warrior. The Rook. Every line of him is coiled tight, dangerous.
"Did something happen?" I whisper.
His eyes narrow on my face. Even knowing he'd never hurt me, I feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. I've seen him angry before. This is different.
It takes me an embarrassing moment to identify what I'm feeling through the bond. Not his anger, though that's there too. Jealousy. Sharp and primal, clawing at the inside of my ribs.
I square my shoulders. "Mal. Did something happen? Outside?"
"No." The word is clipped. Final. His voice is so low and controlled it raises the hair on my arms.
The air between us crackles. I can feel the tension in my teeth. "Then what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you." His voice drops. "As usual."
The intensity of his stare makes it hard to think. "How did you find me?"
"Your friend told me you were in a private room."
The way he spits the word tells me what he thought I was doing in here. My pulse kicks up.
"And you thought interrupting me was a good idea?"
"No." He shakes his head, pushing off the door, advancing toward me with slow, deliberate steps. "I knew it was a terrible idea. Probably my worst yet."
My heart pounds harder with each step he takes. "But you did it anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
I step back. He keeps coming. I step back again, and again, until my spine meets the wall.
His eyes darken. "It's my turn to ask questions."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"This need I feel through the bond." His voice is rough. "Is it for the person who just disappeared through that door?"
"No." I hold his gaze. "Of course not."
"Of course not?" He's close enough now that I can see the gold flecks in his eyes. "It's a rather intense need."
My breath shallows. "It is. But it's for you."
He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they're molten. "Is it you? Or the bond?"
I stare at him. "You can't be serious."
The look he gives me says he absolutely is. Something snaps in my chest.
"Is it the bond when you stare at me across a room like I'm the only person in it?
" I step toward him, closing the distance he created.
"Is it the bond when you watch my lips like you're dying to know how they'd feel against yours?
When you angle every glass we share so your mouth lands exactly where mine was? "
Another step. He doesn't retreat.
"When you choose the chair closest to mine, every single time? When you find excuses to brush your hand against mine over maps we've already memorized?" My voice drops. "Should I continue?"
His eyes blaze. He closes the final distance between us, and suddenly my back is against the wall and he's everywhere, one hand cupping the back of my neck, his calloused thumb tracing the line of my jaw. My pulse is a drum.
My hands find his cloak, fisting the fabric, pulling him closer. I tilt my face up, eyes closing, waiting. He doesn't close the gap. I make a sound of frustration and yank him toward me.
"Tell me what you want." His voice is a low rasp against my lips.
"Right now? I want to kill you."
"Right now," he breathes, "I just might let you."
And then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow. Devastating. His tongue traces the seam of my lips before sliding inside, exploring with a precision that makes my knees weak. A soft brutality.
A careful conquest. As if he's been imagining this for weeks and refuses to rush a single second of it. I try to match his pace. The hunger burning through me makes it impossible.
His hands slide down my sides, my hips, and settle on my thighs. I try to deepen the kiss, to chase him when he pulls back. He breaks away just far enough to search my face. His eyes are dark and wild, storm clouds over a churning sea.
Through the bond, I feel hesitation. A question. My voice won't come. So I answer in a different way. I slide my hands down his arms, feeling the muscles coil beneath my touch, and dig my nails in.
The lights flicker. He hoists me up in one fluid motion, lifting me against the wall. His hands slide beneath my skirt, rough and warm, and a shiver races through me as I wrap my legs around him.
He settles between my thighs, but not close enough. Not where I need him. I lock my ankles behind his back and pull. The motion forces him forward, pressing him exactly where I'm burning for him. The sound he makes is low and raw. His mouth crashes back into mine.
I rock against him again, and he growls into my mouth, a sound that vibrates through my entire body.
I try to get closer, always closer, but it's not enough.
He grips my hips and drives forward, hitting exactly the right spot, and I gasp, breaking the kiss.
My head falls back against the wall. I've never felt so completely out of control. I don't want it to stop.
Some distant part of my mind notes that we're wearing far too many clothes. Then his mouth finds my neck, and I stop thinking entirely. His teeth graze my pulse point. His tongue follows. When he sucks hard enough to leave a mark, I forget my own name.
My fingers sink into his hair, gripping, pulling him closer. "Gods, yes—"
"Fuck," he breathes against the hollow of my throat.
He pulls back suddenly, and I make a sound of protest before I can stop myself. "Look at me."
I do. And the air leaves my lungs. No one has ever looked at me the way he's looking at me now. Like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. Like he'd burn kingdoms to keep me.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His voice is guttural.
Before I can respond, his mouth claims mine again. I dig my nails into the back of his neck. He bites my lip in response, and the sound I make is shameless. His hips surge forward.
I meet him thrust for thrust. The kiss turns savage. All teeth and tongue and desperation, flames consuming everything in their path.
"Bain!" Kage's voice cuts through from the other side of the door.
The lights flicker violently. We wrench apart, chests heaving, both of us turning toward the sound.
"Temp." Naima's voice. Urgent. "This is important."
"Be right there!" I manage.
Malachi presses his forehead to mine, breathing hard. "What was it you said? Bloodshed means banishment?"
I choke out a laugh as I untangle myself from him, smoothing my skirt, trying to make myself presentable on the way to the door. My hands are still shaking as I open it, but the expressions that greet me kill whatever warmth was left in my body.
Naima. Kage. And behind them, Margot, pale as death, eyes wide and glassy. Kage pushes past me without a word. The others follow. I barely manage to shut the door behind them.
"This better be a godsdamn emergency," Malachi says, still breathing hard.
Margot meets my eyes. "I had a vision."
Three words. The room goes cold.
I look at Naima, who looks as terrified as I feel. We both know what those words mean. In Lunaris, seers are hunted. Visions are a death sentence. And Margot just admitted to having one. In front of outsiders.
"What did you see?" My voice comes out barely audible.
"You. And Bain. At the welcoming ceremony." Her voice shakes. "You have to be there."
"Why?" Malachi demands.
Margot shakes her head. Tears pool in her eyes, threatening to fall. “I don’t know,” she whispers.
My stomach hollows. I've never seen Margot like this—trembling, tears threatening to spill, terror written across every line of her face.
I start toward her, but she raises a shaking hand to stop me.
Naima tries next. Margot stops her too. Whatever she saw, she needs to get it out before she falls apart.
"I saw the blood moon rise over the ceremony." Her voice fractures. "And I saw... I saw Bas. Publicly executed. By the Council."
The words hit me like a physical blow. “At the ceremony?”
“No.” Her lip quivers.
This time, Naima surges forward and wraps her arms around Margot from behind before she can stop her. Margot crumples. A sob tears through her, raw and broken, and she grips Naima's arms like they're the only thing keeping her upright.
"Margie." Naima's voice is soft, steady. "Is all of this happening at once?"
Margot shakes her head. “Not at once, but it’s all connected.”
Naima nods and gently pushes the hair from Margot's tear-streaked face. She looks at me over her shoulder. The expression on her face cracks something in my chest. I press my hand to my mouth, fighting to keep the wave of emotion from crashing over me.
Warmth pulses through the bond, steady and grounding. I feel Mal move closer but don't look away from Margot as she takes a shuddering breath and meets my eyes.
"Bas … it happens at the amphitheater. And …" She bites her trembling lip. "And you. I saw you get taken, Temp."
The floor tilts beneath me. Malachi's hand closes around my arm as I stagger, but I can't look away from Margot.
“Taken?” I whisper.
“By who?” Mal growls.
“I don’t know,” she sobs quietly.
I’ve never known my friend to be a liar, but there’s something she’s not telling us.
I can feel it in my bones. I think of Jordi in the Keep.
Arlo's warning about the Council hunting us. The ledger full of purchased people. And now this. But if Margot dared to reveal her gift in front of outsiders, if she risked everything to tell us this much … why wouldn’t she just say everything?
"Temp." Naima's voice cuts through the chaos in my head. "The welcoming ceremony. It's happening right now."
Right now. Which means Margot’s visions start tonight.