Chapter 25 The Secret
TWENTY-FIVE
THE SECRET
As night falls, the moon presses down on us from high in the sky.
The goddess’s magic spark to life among the castle gardens where everyone gathers with their wine and party tricks.
Wings of demons and fae alike spread wide, swirling cool night air all around us as steady drums beat into our hearts.
The night itself is alive.
And I can’t stop watching Nyra mingle with her friends like the true creep I’m starting to become.
“Goddess,” I whisper into my cup as I take another bitter gulp.
“Are you trying to drink the kingdom dry?” A sarcastic voice whispers along my neck.
His breath shivers across my flesh and then deep into my soul itself.
Roman.
“I’m just having a good time. I’m allowed to have a good time.”
“Wow, can you say that again with some actual enthusiasm, beautiful.” He cocks a dark brow at me, and it’s then that I notice how unruly his hair is.
The mere sight of his hair growing out after the previous king took away the pride of his war braids sinks too many emotions into my chest. My hand lifts and my fingers are sliding through his short, soft hair before I can think better of it.
He tenses beneath my sudden touch, and I, too, am surprised.
“Your hair’s growing out,” I say as some sort of terrible excuse to keep touching him.
He’s clearly right. I have drunk too much.
I know that now, and yet, I still stroke his hair like he’s my favorite puppy.
“Uh—yeah.” The smug asshole-smile he always blesses everyone with is nowhere to be seen.
He’s uncertain for once.
Because of me.
My hand drifts, and then I’m skimming along the rough coarseness of his five o’clock shadow. My fingertips are so gentle, I’m mesmerized by the way he feels beneath my skin. His hair, his faint beard, his hard jaw, his lips . . .
Those open lips move ever so slowly. “What are you doing, beautiful?” Warm breath fans along my palm with his quietly spoken quesiton.
What am I doing? Drunkenly watching my sister like a creep in the night. Drunkenly stroking Rome like a creep in his pants. Drunkenly making a fool of myself indeed.
Calloused fingertips skim over my wrist before he slowly wraps his hand over mine. But he doesn’t pull me away. He just holds my palm there against his hauntingly beautiful face.
Goddess, he’s imperfectly perfect.
His lashes are so dark they turn he sparkling color in his gaze a pale vibrant hue that must be enhanced by the goddess’s full moon tonight. His shining green eyes close, and then he’s leaning into my touch, and I’m leaning just a little closer to him, and then—
“Roman, my hound, come here,” a voice cracks into our dense emotions, and my drifting attention finally finds the source.
Creatchin.
Of course.
“Help me summon the magic of times long ago.” She swirls with her hands held up like she might catch the weight of the moon if it ever swayed and dropped to our meager little world.
Roman flinches, his eyebrows pulling together hard, and there’s a passing second where he leans into me just a little more. It’s like he wants to hold on to the sensation of my hands against his body for just a little longer.
Then he pulls away.
And strides to his queen with a charming, destructive smile. “My queen.” He bows, taking her slender hand in his and kissing it intimately.
Oh, he’s a hand whore now. I see.
My lashes flit as I roll my eyes so hard, I too look like I too am worshiping the moon. I take another big drink.
“You’re supposed to be in your room,” a grumbling man says from just over my shoulder.
His words pierce my thoughts and I don’t lower the cup as I close my eyes hard to drink again.
I turn to find Zilo’s ever-disappointed features staring down on me. Avian lingers a few feet away, but I know he’s here to act as my keeper. It’s like a big bad wolf snapping his jaws at Little Red while Grandma just finishes her knitting behind him.
They’re exhausting.
But tonight, I don’t care.
Or should I say, my wine does not fucking care.
“I’m actually having a nice time. I’ll be staying for now,” I say with a smile I don’t even have to force. I should smile more often.
I’m good at it.
All that fake practicing has definitely paid off.
That same stupid smile stays in place even as Zilo’s glare hardens.
“Your aura is gorgeous when you're happy, Cers,” Grandma Avian says between knitting and pretending to mind her own business.
Aww. Avian thinks my aura is pretty.
That stupid smile intensifies.
“Go inside. Please.” Zilo’s cutting tone is razor sharp.
Which is funny because he’s normally so damn dull.
“I don’t think I will,” I say before emptying my glass with a large gulp that leaves me refreshed and relaxed.
“Cersia.” Zilo growls like he’s alpha.
I’m alpha, bitch. My chin lifts, and I have to lift my head unnaturally high to even slightly look down my nose at him.
I give him my best superior glance, but a hiccup slips out at the last second, and all that wine makes a reappearance and stings at the back of my throat before I swallow it back down.
“Ew.” I shake it off. “You know, maybe now is a good chance for me to spend some quality time with Nyra.”
Both men’s heads swivel fast toward my sister among the beautiful elite hell fae swaying to the beat of the drums.
“Not right now,” Avian whispers gently.
“Maybe I’ll see if Roman needs me.”
Zilo doesn’t even look toward his friend, who is walking side by side with the queen toward the castle doors. “Fuck no,” he says instantly.
“Maybe I’ll practice finding out what my beast is.”
“You mean that naked thing you do? No. Probably not the best time,” Avian adds.
“Then maybe I’ll go to my fucking room.” I slice the both of them with a look, and there’s a second of stunned confusion that lingers between them.
“Uh . . . yeah. I mean, if you want.” Avian nods slowly. Zilo also nods, but one of his dark eyebrows lifts high as he studies me with suspicion in his gaze.
I don’t say goodnight to either one of them. In fact, I intentionally pass them by without a second glance.
Because as soon as I’m out of sight, I scamper down the garden’s maze of shrubs.
I tiptoe over the smooth cobblestones beneath my boots, and when the laughter and merriment is louder than before, I stop.
And shove my hands through the thick, scraping shrubs to peek through.
From within the poking branches, I immediately spot Seelvie swaying so hard I think she might break a hip.
Avian is in the distance and at his side Zilo stands with his head tilted up to the moon like he might actually be worshipping as his queen orders.
But then just to my right, is my sister leaning into Vanitee.
The points of the glittering black wings at Vanitee’s back glimmer in the moonlight. They’re not a flat black like her grandmother’s but brighter. Like starlight. Sometimes I forget how pretty they are when I’m not thinking about how much I hate her.
Like now, as I stare at the two of them. They each wear a faint smile that matches the other’s. They’re . . . happy together. Much happier than I ever remember Nyra being in a long, long time.
I . . . I should let her have this moment. My questions can wait.
She deserves happy.
Everyone deserves that minimal gift of peace in their life.
But some of us have never felt it.
Nyra has never felt it. Until now.
My hands lower slowly at my sides as that sinking realization hits hard in my chest. Tonight’s settled. I should take the night off and just rest.
The guys were right.
For once.
I turn on the heel of my boot, but my feet instantly tangle as my chest collides with something hard, and a firm hand plants over my mouth.
And there’s that sharp gaze again.
Dammit.
"What the fuck are you doing? Why do you never listen? Why are you such a pain in my ass?" Zilo’s rant goes on and on for several seconds as I blink up at him.
If he would so kindly remove his big fucking paw, I’d explain.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, the beast of a man grips my hips and tosses me roughly. I land against his shoulder with a heavy jostle and a hard thump that knocks the air from my lungs. He hauls me just a few feet before I react swiftly with fight or flight.
And you guessed it: my elbow jars into the back of his head, sending him forward just enough for my right knee to slam into his face. A grunt and a curse growl out of him before he shoves me off of him.
My feet barely skid against the brick before finding the balance I so desperately need, and then his hands are on me once more. He grips my wrists, but I twist away from him in a huff of rage.
“Fucking stop manhandling me!” My hair flings into my face as I glare up at him.
He reaches for me again. “Get inside before you get yourself killed.”
My foot lifts with my knee intent on jarring against his stomach, but he catches my thigh in the blink of an eye. I’m pressed so intimately against his hard frame we probably look more like dance partners than enemies.
A deadly smirk twitches at his lips.
He’s good.
Very good indeed.
A shiver of excitement and power courses through my veins, but I barely have a second to consider it. Because he pulls at my leg until I’m forced off my feet. But instead of falling to my ass, I leap.
And he catches me. My other leg wraps around his smooth, lean hips, and he surprisingly holds onto my thighs as my hands curl around his neck.
My nails dig in as I squeeze ever so lightly. His chin lifts to look up at me like I’m a goddess he’s always worshipped but never spoken of. It’s like he never dared to whisper how sacred his faith was for fear that others might want to bask in my divine attention.
“I was going inside, you feral fuck!”
The smirk on his lips grows, and it’s a heart-pounding appearance of beauty. My fingers twitch against soft locks to feel his beard against my palm. I almost don’t want to strangle the life out of him in this moment . . .
Almost.
A spark of sweet caressing magic singes between us where my skin meets his. Moonlight haloes us. His gaze slips slowly to my lips. Lust is alive in thrilling adrenaline like I’ve never felt.
Zilo is different.
He ignites lust and anger and happiness and fury all at once within me, and it feels like too much. It’s too terrifying.
So to balance it all back out, I fling my head forward and slam my skull against his.
"Fuck!" he roars.
Then I’m slammed to the ground. My back hits so hard, I feel the spreading pain everywhere.
He’s on top of me at once, his arms grappling with mine.
The roughness of his hands around my shoulders, my biceps, my wrists, and every other flailing part of me surges rage all through my body.
The snapping, crawling sensation of something else not quite myself tears through me until I feel the fangs of a beast within snarling at my lips.
My wolf.
No. Not my wolf . . .
My beast.
That beast lashes out at Zilo with more strength than I’ve ever felt rippling through my muscles. Zilo heaves, and his grip on me falters as I shove right back at him, claws growing where fine filed nails once were
The aggression and frustration in my friend’s eyes shift in a matter of half a second when those talons sink into the meaty flesh of his shoulders. His fingers loosen around my wrists, and the hesitancy in his deep green eyes is the closest to fear that I’ve ever seen in him.
He’s afraid of me.
I think.
“Cersia,” he whispers calmly.
But the rational side of my brain is a frenzy of fury. I won’t be distracted.
A soft touch skims along my cheek, and my fist flies out with tearing talons to bat away the threat. He’s a threat to me.
To my beast.
And that beast rears up atop of Zilo, and a roar, fiery and hot, sears up my throat.
It burns over my lips, and every single part of me is on fire!
Smoke wafts off of my flesh, and that flesh burns from bones as scales white as crystals sear over me.
My body aches and breaks and twists into something I don’t understand.
But one thing is very, very clear: I didn’t take after my mother. My beast is not a wolf of any kind…So what was my father? And what enormous beast did he pass down for me to inherit and hide?
My height towers up, up, up. My sight slits into thin slivers of images so that I can see far, far further than the castle gates that I now stand monstrously over.
My spine feels like it rips into two solid pieces.
I can’t explain the way my bones mend themselves, but beautiful, enormous, fiery wings spread wide behind me.
Everything I see and feel is a hazy blur I can’t focus on as my heartbeat speeds so fast I can’t even breathe. I feel trapped in this cage of a monster. Nothing makes sense. What am I?
Screams and smoke coil together, and when I peer down, the crowd of tiny people are sparking magic that beams up in flying colors of red and white and black.
Creatures shift to their true form. Wolves and hellhounds snap at my scaly legs.
Magic hits me at all angles with hot embers that sink into my back like hot pokers of pain.
Fae fly high around my head, their horns bucking into me with sharp points that don’t pierce but irritate my flesh and aggression even more.
One single fly-like woman swoops up until her little black eyes meet mine. Her slender body is tiny and frail before me. Her features are too small to make out, but her words are loud and clear.
“Your kind isn’t welcome here. It hasn’t been for centuries. And I’ll kill you myself before I ever let any harm come to our people!” Her long fingers lift, and black magic soars out in a cloud that smothers my sight and smell and leaves me breathless as it sinks deep into the side of my head.
The sheer power of it alone throbs through my skull. A roar of fear and pain rips from my throat. My claws lash out at her, but she’s too fast. Her wings beat too hard. Her little hands lift once more, and she’s ready to assault me. She’s ready to harm me. She’s ready to kill me.
The snap of my jaws is a vicious weapon that lashes out before my eyes can even find the little buzzing fae fucker. Her magic slashes out at me. It hits my tongue.
But then so does she.
Her hellish magic burns all down my throat as I swallow hard.
It hurts from the inside out.
Every single part of me is afire.
Her words circle my mind as my eyes close, and my body slams to the ground, and it becomes all too clear.
Your kind isn’t welcome here. It hasn’t been for centuries.
Ancient fire and scales are all I’m made of.
I’m a dragon.