Chapter 48
Alone and clutching the grail, I creep into the dungeon. I can hardly see anything. Only a few slivers of moonlight pierce the darkness through cracks in the stone walls.
I count the cells, and when I get to three, I feel for an open door.
The note didn’t say how I’d get Vero back, only that she’d die an excruciating death if I didn’t bring the grail here.
My heart sinks when I realize the cell is empty. I’d hoped to find her here in some sort of trade-off.
But what leverage do I have?
I pull it wider. The metal creaks, and I step inside. With shaking hands, I set the grail on the dungeon floor.
I look around, sniffing the air for any trace of Fey. I breathe in only the smell of damp and mold, of old bones. My breath is shallow and fast, and I try to scan the shadows for signs of movement.
As I close the cell door behind me, it groans loudly on its hinges.
I’ll pretend to leave. But I’m not actually leaving here without trying to figure out who took Vero.
I creep back to the corridor just outside the dungeon and close the dungeon door. The kidnapper told me to come in through the south entrance, which means he’ll be arriving from the north to avoid me.
But that cell door was fucking loud, thank the gods. I’ll be able to hear him as soon as he comes in for it.
I wait, my heart racing, and press my ear against the wooden door. I try not to think of Rion, because why am I worrying about the Ruthless Knight when my sister is in danger?
I’ve seen him kill dozens of people without a second thought. The man has a pile of bodies behind him. So what if he hesitated when it came to me? I couldn’t prioritize someone I barely know above my own family.
Still, a thread of remorse twists between my ribs.
I try to focus.
I close my eyes, listening closely. I count the seconds, hearing only my own breath.
At last, the rusty sound of metal scraping against metal pierces the door.
I fling the door open and rush into the dungeons. The man is holding a torch, and its warm light glows over a mask—one shaped like a fox’s face. It’s grotesque and absurd that the person who kidnapped and threatened to eviscerate my sister is wearing a fucking vixen mask.
As I run for him, he grips the grail in one hand and his torch in the other. He seems to freeze.
I’ve got my blade to his throat within seconds, my arm wrapped around his neck from behind. Around us, the shadows thicken and coil.
“I don’t care about the grail,” I say. “But where is my sister?”
“I don’t have her. Don’t kill me. All I had was her hair.”
His voice is…familiar. The words slightly slurred. “Where is she? What happened to her?”
“I needed the grail, Alis. Whatever your name is. I followed you out the night you brought her the grail. I saw you give it to this peasant to drink from. I heard you call her your sister. I chased after her, trying to find out who she was, who you are. But I couldn’t capture her.
Her male companion was bloody powerful. His magic incinerated mine. I couldn’t trap her.”
“And her hair?”
Around us, the shadows twist unnaturally at our feet.
“I ripped out a chunk as she was fleeing from me. They were running into the forest.”
“And why—”
My words are cut short by a burst of shadows—ice-cold, dark tendrils that snake around me, binding my arms, trapping me. I drop the knife, and it clatters loudly to the dungeon floor. As I struggle, my attacker darts away.
I rake at the magic, trying to free myself from the frigid, slick bindings.
Rage pounds through my blood, and I scramble to free myself, but the restraints only seem to be getting tighter.
Shadow magic wraps around my mouth and nose, suffocating me. My lungs burn as I claw at the strands that twine around me like strangler ivy. I’m going to die down here.
At last, I free my mouth, and I take a deep, gasping breath, filling my lungs.
From there, I start to loosen more of the ensnaring strands of shadow magic.
That’s how I recognize the voice, and why his words were slightly slurred. We’d both been drinking on top of the Gloaming Tower tonight. That’s probably also why his plan was so ill thought out.
For whatever reason, Aneirin decided to blackmail me for the grail.
But what, exactly, is everyone planning to do with it? The Veiled Court wants it back. What the fuck is the play here?
At last, the last of his magic dissipates from my body, drifting away from me like smoke. I’m left here by myself now.
Wherever Aneirin is, he’s too far gone for me to catch.
I close my eyes. Rion’s image blooms in my mind, the blood pouring between his fingers.
I lean over, hands on my knees, and take a moment to catch my breath.
I stagger away from the dungeon as the last threads of shadow magic drift from my arms. My mind races. Was he telling the truth when he said Vero got away from him?
Somehow, I think he was. And if she’s free, then I only have one more immediate problem.
I start to head back to Rion. I sprint through the dark tunnel, navigating now by the smell of blood. The air grows colder. When I reach the crypt, a shadow moves.
I pause at the doorway, searching the room. Then, I see his golden tattoos, glowing from the shadows. And before I can even say his name, he lunges for me, his hands around my ribcage. He pushes me back, crushing me against the wall. Fear detonates in my skull.
I look up into his eyes, and they burn with a dark heat. But I can’t quite see Rion in there—just an uncontrolled, animal lust for either sex or death, I can’t tell which. Blood stains his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to it.
“You’re still alive,” I whisper.
His only answer is a low growl. By the primal look in his eyes, I think he’s in a place beyond words. He’s not quite Rion anymore.
His hands are gripping me so hard around my ribs that I’m sure he’ll leave bruises. My heart hammers, but a memory stirs as I call to mind how to fix him.
His words echo in my thoughts.
Desire. That’s how I heal—myself and others.
Am I going to have to kiss him to get out of this alive? I’ve done worse to survive.
Slowly, tentatively, I wrap my arms over his shoulders. My breasts shift against him.
Another low growl rises from his chest and trembles through my ribs. But this time, I think I see the faintest flicker of recognition in his eyes.
Looking up at him, I lick my lips. He’s lethal, otherworldly—and heartbreakingly beautiful.
His large hands slide down lower, moving possessively from my ribs to my waist. Then lower, down around my arse. He lifts me into the air, pinning me against the wall, and my thighs wrap around him. One of his hands wraps under my bum, holding me up.
My nightgown slides up to the top of my thighs as I tighten my thighs around him. We grip each other like we did in the arena—except this time, I’m wearing thin silk instead of armor.
His free hand threads into my hair, and he tugs my head back, exposing my neck. My breath shallows.
He could easily kill me like this. Snap my neck. Tear out my throat. I’ve put myself in a wildly dangerous position. I can’t tell yet if this is a mistake or the only way out.
Between my thighs, his body feels hard as steel. I’m completely vulnerable here, pinned at his mercy. My pulse races as I hope for the best.
Slowly, he lowers his mouth to my neck, his hot breath feathering over my skin.
Then his teeth drag over the pulse in my throat.
It feels like a warning—that I’m his. Down here, I’m a prize he’s claimed, and he’ll do with me what he wants.
His teeth feel sharp as he drags his canines over my neck, testing me.
For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to rip out my jugular and end my life.
After all, I did just stab him.
I’m hardly daring to move. I simply breathe in, breathe out. My heart thunders against his chest.
Then, slowly, his warm lips press against my throat, and I let out a quiet moan. I’m shocked by how gentle his mouth feels on me. His grip is rough as a warrior’s, but his kiss on my throat is exquisite.
Warmth radiates from his body as he crushes me in place.
I take no pleasure in this, of course. I’m only—
I’m only lying to myself.
His mouth moves lower down my throat, brushing over my collarbone. Oh, gods.
My hips shift against him.
He moves lower, his tongue grazing over the curve of my breast. My thighs clench, and I gasp for breath.
He lifts his face to mine now, searching my expression. If he’s hoping to find desire in my flushed cheeks, I’m sure he has.
I reach up to touch his face, and my thumb brushes over his lower lip. The torchlight wavers on him. Gods, he’s beautiful.
“I don’t even know your name,” he whispers. “Nor you mine. But I can hear how your heart races, and I can feel that you want me, and I want to claim you.”
He leans in, pressing his lips against mine. As I kiss him back, my tongue slides against his. It’s a heated, sensual kiss. The exquisite ache building between my thighs has my hips rocking against him. Another moan escapes me.
Now I hardly remember who he is, or who I am, or what I’m doing here. Molten heat slides through my core.
Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss with a nip to my lower lip and stares into my eyes.
“What do you mean?” I ask, remembering myself. “That I don’t know your name?”
He shakes his head slowly. In his eyes, I can see him returning to himself.
His lips still heat the air, just an inch from mine. “I don’t know what I was saying.”
“But you’re healed now, yes?” I almost hate myself for saying it. “We can stop now.”
Slowly, he lowers me, and I slide down his body.
As I start to take a step away from him, he pulls me back.
The strap of my nightgown has fallen off my shoulder, exposing my nipple.
The cool air kisses my skin, and my breast aches for his touch.
Rion’s hand slides up, caressing me, palming my breast.
“You need release.” His voice skims over my skin. “Let me give it to you.”
His other hand moves down between my thighs, touching me through the silk. My head rolls back against his chest.
I gasp at the contact, moving against his hand. Desire coils tightly in me, and I shift my hips back into him, feeling his hardness. I know he’s as turned on as I am.
Part of me is desperate to say yes.
I want him to hike up my dress, rip off my underwear, and fuck me hard on the crypt floor. In just this moment, I want him to take total control of me, to make me forget the rest of the world. My body aches with need at the thought.
But I’ll never admit how much I want him—even if he can see it, feel it, scent it.
I won’t say yes. I’ve pledged to destroy anyone who tries to take the crown. I will kill anyone who threatens the republic. And right now, Rion is the top contender.
If I’m going to kill the next king, I can’t let myself fall under his spell or lose myself in his dark allure.
At least I’m leaving him as unsatisfied as I am.
Still, it feels like another’s voice is speaking for me when I say, “I don’t need anything.”
The lie feels ice cold on my tongue.
Even I can hear the falsehood as I step away, tugging my nightgown back into place. Cold regret sets in for a moment—not because I stopped him, but because I almost let my enemy seduce me.
Then, I turn back to him and catch his gaze. “I suppose I should tell you now that Aneirin stole the grail. He blackmailed me.”
“With what?”
I smile at him. “Do you think I would tell you that? You have enough leverage on me.”
“Aneirin,” he murmurs. “You gave the grail to that worm?”
“I’m going to try to get it back. Give me another day, please, before you tell anyone. Just one more day.
He slides his hands into his pockets and cocks his head contemplatively. “You ask a lot of favors for someone who keeps declaring how much you hate me.” An arched eyebrow. “Do you think my patience is endless?”
“Just one more day.” I swallow hard. “But what is it, exactly, that you both want to do with it?”
“Do you think I would tell you that?” He steps into the torchlight, and it gilds his perfect features. “I think, little mortal, you should worry more about what Niniane will do to you. Losing the grail is a mistake even I can’t fix for you.”