Chapter 16 Threads and Teeth
THREADS AND TEETH
The cloak slipped from her fingers and hit the ground with a soft thud, but the sound might as well have been a war drum. Ella stood frozen, blood roaring in her ears, his words still clinging to the air long after they fell.
He’s known since the wards.
He’d said it like a blade unsheathed.
Her heart galloped in her chest from raw exposure, from the unbearable vulnerability of having her most guarded secret called into the light.
Jakobav didn’t have to move to dominate the space between them. He stood there watching her with his arms crossed, unrelenting. And that, more than anything, terrified her enough to send her stumbling half a step back.
She discreetly patted her pocket, empty.
Where the fuck did that knife go?
Her gaze darted to the nearest table, panic rising as she found no weapons. Not even a fork. Her hands balled into fists as her breath quickened.
Jakobav’s eyes narrowed the moment she shifted.
But before she could so much as pivot, he moved, fast as a whip, silent as snowfall.
His fingers wrapped around her wrist, the grip not crushing but absolute.
He tugged her forward, a force that drew her against the hard line of his chest until escape became a fading thought.
Pinned in place, she stiffened, muscles locking as though bracing for a blow. Instead, his hold shifted, intentional and unhurried, sliding from her wrist to her jaw to tilt her face upward.
The move should’ve been tender, but the iron in his touch told another story.
His mouth hovered a breath from hers, close enough that if she so much as flinched, their lips might brush.
The awareness of it unsettled her balance, as though the floor itself tilted toward him, leaving her nowhere else to stand.
She trembled, words tumbling to her lips before she could stop them.
“If you mean to kill me, do it. Stop circling.” The defiance in her voice faltered on the final syllable, half-threat and half-plea.
He didn’t answer at first.
His hold on her chin tightened, just enough to remind her that he was in control. When he finally spoke, his voice slid against her temple in a low, dangerous murmur.
“Do not make me your villain.”
His breath taunted her skin, strength coiled beneath his stillness. Her pulse hammered on, traitorously loud no matter how she willed it silent.
The word villain thrashed around in her mind.
He shifted impossibly closer, lowering his face until his mouth grazed her ear. His voice was barely a whisper.
“But do not mistake me for your friend.”
Her chest rattled, heartbeat frantic and trapped, like a small bird newly caged and still wild. It was his tone that got her. It wasn’t cruel this time, but instead, it was threaded with need and full of restraint.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, gaze raking across her face like a challenge. His lips parted slightly, he dragged the tip of his tongue across the lower one, almost in contemplation. She caught a glimpse of hunger before it vanished behind his mask.
Was that a threat? Or an invitation?
Every nerve sparked. Fear and anticipation, both burning hot and unsettled inside her.
Gods.
Jakobav’s grip loosened only slightly, enough to let her breathe, just enough to let her think.
Run? Fight?
But the moment fractured when she found her voice again, biting and familiar.
“Who else knows?” she asked, chin lifting. She tried to stand taller, shoulders squaring. “I know I’m far from the only secret you’re holding captive.”
“No one else,” he said. “Not yet.”
Ella took a moment to think but held her ground.
“Then why treat me like a guest?” Her voice trembled with fury now. “Why not throw me in chains the second you discovered me?”
His expression didn’t change. “Because I wanted to see what you’d do…amongst other reasons.” He smiled coldly.
She glared. “And if I refuse to go with you?”
“Then you’ll make a scene,” Jakobav said evenly. “And I’ll have to chain you anyway. Is that what you want?”
Heat bled up her neck, painting her fury in shades of pink. He let go of her wrist and took a slow, methodical step back.
“Pick it up,” he said, nodding toward the fallen cloak.
Ella lifted her chin but didn’t move.
“I won’t ask again.” His voice was deep and commanding, rolling through the room, eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.
Infuriated by how much he clearly enjoyed this, she let out a scathing sound.
Her next move would be calculated. Instinct told her it was in her best interest to obey.
His face darkened, clearly unwilling to compromise even an inch.
She crouched, then snatched the cloak off the floor, never breaking eye contact, and shoved it toward him like an answered challenge.
He didn’t flinch.
“You’re coming with me,” Jakobav said. “You can do so as a guest.”
His eyes hardened, but the side of his mouth twitched as if suppressing a wolfish smirk.
“Or as a prisoner. Either way…you're not staying here.”
Ella’s jaw locked and chest tightened, anger rising to an unsafe level for enemy territory.
He turned on his heel, already halfway to the door. Didn’t even bother to look back.
“We leave at dawn.” His voice, low and deep, reflected that his verdict was final.
It was still dark when the knock came.
She hadn’t seen him since he left her with that ultimatum.
No midnight footsteps. No dark shadow by the hearth. Not even the brush of his presence outside the door. Wherever he’d gone, whatever preparations he’d made, Jakobav had disappeared into the castle’s depths. And now he’d returned with the dawn to collect her.
Ella already stood cloaked, boots laced, every vein drawn tight with restless refusal.
“I’m not coming,” she said, the words bitten off like steel between her teeth.
His gaze was black as midnight stone, steady as the floor beneath her.
“Then I’ll chain you myself,” he said, voice a low taunt.
“You’ll learn how heavy Dravaryn iron feels…
how well I use it.” His mouth curved, wicked.
“I also enjoy biting. So if you’re choosing option B, consider that part of the package. ”
Ella’s stomach flipped, heat crawling over her skin before she could stop it.
Gods, her body betrayed her far too easily around him.
She straightened, forcing her voice level. “Then I’ll take option A. I’m coming with you, by my choice, but if I’m venturing with you to investigate a breach, I should be armed.”
Jakobav’s hand slipped in and out of his cloak, metal gleaming between his fingers as he revealed a familiar hilt. “You mean like this one?” His tone was almost amused. “Yes, I noticed when you took it. And yes, it gave me immense satisfaction to take it back.”
Ella made a strained, exasperated sound, rolling her eyes, though the air between them seemed to crackle hotter with every word.
He tilted the knife, letting the torchlight catch on the edge. His voice was velvet over steel. “I’m glad you’re drawn to this blade. I’m particularly fond of it myself. After all…it’s the same one I pressed against your throat the other night.”
Ella’s jaw went slack.
Then anger snapped through her.
An annoyed sound escaped as she darted forward, hand reaching for the hilt.
Jakobav lifted it easily out of reach, his other hand closing around her throat, fingers firm but unyielding.
The look he gave her was all pressure and intent, like he was daring her to test him.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “Come with me willingly, and I’ll give it to you. You’ll be meeting a few of my First Guard, and if I put this knife back in your hand, I need your promise you won’t try to slit any of their throats with it.”
Ella pried his hand off her neck, squeezing his wrist harder than necessary, and smiled sweetly enough to be insulting. “I promise.” She held out her hand, expectant.
He placed the knife in her palm, his expression doubtful, then gestured for her to walk ahead of him as though the matter were settled.
She slipped the knife into her pocket, then yanked the cloak tighter around her shoulders, masking nerves with a shard of sarcasm. “So thoughtful. Always the gentleman.”
His mouth curved faintly, a shadow of a smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
When she still didn’t move, his smirk thinned. With a sound low in his throat, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, cloak flaring behind him. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow, clearly expecting her to follow.
Ella didn’t move right away, her mind shouting that she shouldn’t go.
The artifact was still here, buried somewhere in this castle, and the prophecy was the reason she’d come, the only reason she’d left.
She’d already given up her name, her safety, her kingdom…all for this mission. And now she was leaving with a man who’d just had his hand around her neck?
But time was slipping through her fingers like dust.
Her stomach twisted, every instinct screaming that this should feel wrong. And yet…another pull rose in her chest, steadier, quieter. A thread she couldn’t name, whispering that this was part of it, not a detour, but a path instead.
Jakobav’s voice lingered in her mind: Do not make me your villain.
She couldn’t ignore it, the strange magic that had stirred in her veins since she crossed into Dravaryn.
Besides, it would probably be for only a few days, a ride out on a scouting mission, a chance to see how Dravaryns handled Threadshifting and maybe even learn new techniques to battle the breaches for the benefit of her own kingdom.
Jakobav may have been her enemy but he might also be the key to understanding this strange magic thrumming just below her hidden sigil, and to surviving what was coming.
She tugged the cloak tight around her shoulders.
This was strategy, not surrender.
A shift in the angle of attack.