Chapter 22 #2
“Mh, but I like you in my arms.”
“Come on, Dion.”
With a sulking face, he let go of me. As I touched the restraint, a hot and cold sensation shot into my fingers, numbing my arm, and I hissed. “What in the gods’ names is that?”
“Hematite. Nullifies my magic. Might feel funny to you because of your Potential. Imagine this a hundred times worse—that’s the effect this thing has on me.”
“Do I want to know why Fig had those?” I wouldn’t be surprised if the males carried around anti-magic restraints in case they had to wrestle their unpredictable prince under control. Perhaps the notion of snatching these and using them at a later date wasn’t the worst.
“We found them. And no, you can’t keep them.”
“How, Dion?”
“You had that contemplative look on your face, as if you fancied an atrocious idea.”
“Ah, shut up and come here.” From a drawer, I fetched a pair of gloves—whoever stocked clothes for me must have assumed I was in need of ball attire—and within a few moments, I bested the rather complex locking mechanism.
The shackle fell away, and after having taken only a single breath, I was enveloped in a six-foot-four fae once more—I still believed he was a couple of inches taller in his true form, but since he wore Glamour, I couldn’t confirm my theory.
His scent composition was different, dominated by shadows, and while I analyzed the phenomenon, Dion underwent some kind of shift.
The air he radiated was hard to describe.
This wasn’t the playful princeling or the moody bastard—whatever facet of him was running the show was one I’d never encountered before. This side was something else entirely. Something menacing. Something that wouldn’t deal well with rejection.
Pure, basic, primal instinct.
More dangerous than the male who had killed my parents in my nightmares.
Even if I was convinced no part of Dion had the intention to cause me harm, I was scared shitless by the raw energy surrounding us both. All of a sudden, I could imagine why Fig had stifled Dion’s magic, and I wished the restraints were still within reach.
“Protect.” His word was more of a growl.
“Of…of course.”
Instead of an answer, his arms tightened and hauled me even closer.
We stayed like this for a few moments until the rumbling in his chest morphed into the expansion of a deep breath.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
“What—”
“I can’t really explain. Feels like my instincts take over. Don’t worry, this isn’t a regular occurrence, and I rarely lose control.”
“But you did earlier?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s alright now?”
“Yes. Stop worrying.”
“How could I’ve ever mistaken you for a human?”
“Guess I hid my nature rather successfully around you.”
“You can quit your preening. Because, in retrospect, you were an atrocious actor. I was simply too stupid to question your charade.”
Dion chuckled and tucked me into his large body, resting his chin on my head. “You’re not stupid. Only naive at times.”
“Is it true you had an ironclad grip on your emotions before we met?”
“Mh. Don’t know if you can call it like that, since I didn’t care enough about anything.”
“You had no temper? Or didn’t follow the moment?”
“When I was younger, I had fire in my blood, but the older I became, the more it cooled. But after I’ve connected with you, it’s safe to say you coax that side out of me again.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Narrowing my eyes because of the recurring one-word answers, I put some distance between us and folded my arms.
Dion just grinned back, and a spark appeared in his eyes.
He moved faster than it should have been possible, and I found myself in the same tight embrace I’d left moments ago, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck again. “Did I ever mention how good you smell?”
“Uhm, no?”
“You do. Like freshly cut grass. And citrus mixed with herbs.”
“Your scent reminds me of a rainstorm in an evergreen forest. Oh, and shadows, of course.”
“Nayana.”
“Dion?”
“You can stop being angry at me.”
“Do we have to talk about that again?”
“I can’t stand when you’re mad at me.”
“Still, you can’t decide that I forgive and forget.”
“I’m painfully aware of that. However, the fact that you’re not trusting me is driving me insane. Especially since we’ll soon cross over to Galanta. It’ll be a lot, and if you can’t have faith in me in Alaiann, maybe we should rethink our plans to leave Ivreia.”
Taking a deep breath, I observed Dion. “But we don’t have a choice, do we?”
“Believe me, that’s the least I’m worrying about. My nerves are so raw, I’m one wrong word away from throwing you over my shoulder and living a life on the run. I’d kill everyone who’d be crazy enough to come after us.”
“Dion, no murder.”
He replied with a glower of utter disdain, accompanied by a snarl.
“I’m serious. There’s a reason I didn’t ask about what trail you left when you searched for me. I don’t want to know.”
“And you shouldn’t have to. In the end, whether you seek insight or not has no impact on me doing whatever is necessary to keep you safe. As my Amplifier, but mostly as my friend.”
“You’re nervous about going home, aren’t you?”
“Nervous isn’t the accurate word. I despise that Galrach is forcing my hand yet again, and if I could, I’d annihilate the entire palace.”
“Surely the situation can’t be that bad. It’ll be all right.”
“Nothing involving my grandfather will ever be all right, Naya.”
A dark glint spread over his gray irises, gradually darkening them, and I embraced him tighter. I’d witnessed him in many tense states, but never as tormented as in this moment.
He needed a while, but finally, he relaxed.
“For what it’s worth, Dion. I’m not angry anymore. And I trust you as far as that I believe you only want to keep me safe.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
His big hands splayed over my back as he hauled me impossibly close, and to no one’s surprise, his head disappeared once more between my shoulder and neck.
“Listen, Naya. In Alaiann, I’ll have to be someone else whenever others are around. There might be times when I’ll treat you poorly, even worse than during the control at the border to Marsia. But that will only be an act—one that ensures your survival.”
“Please stop worrying. I’m well aware of how dangerous your world is, especially when your grandfather is around.”
“He’s every nightmare you could ever dream. You need to be properly briefed. What about we sit down, and you tell me everything you’ve memorized before I add what you haven’t?”
“Yes, let’s do that.” Realization hit me. At his court, he wasn’t in control of his situation or anything important to him. No wonder he was holding so tightly to every shroud of authority he could get, and even tighter the closer our departure loomed.
If discussing everything he deemed essential about his home—again—helped him, I’d indulge him.
And I’d do so with a smile.