Chapter 13
Mina
Rixon’s expression changed from shock to fury, which fed into my own emotions. He drew his sword and strode across the room. “Stop!” I cried, arm outstretched. He ignored my shout. My irritation intensified. I opened my mouth to issue a command, to use the bond against him—
He beheaded the Jarg with a single, efficient sweep.
The Jarg I had painstakingly spent hours creating a summoning circle for before pulling it from the depths of hell, using knowledge Bern had once imparted upon me during our journey to Rockfall.
My first ever summoning, and now it was gone.
I stared at its carcass, my breaths coming faster and faster.
How dare he?!
Rixon wiped his sword, then sheathed it, turning to me. “Mina. What is the meaning of this?!”
“You had no right—”
“I had every right!” His roar was laced with the same anger I felt. “I am a wielder. I kill demons. It’s what I do.”
I let out a deranged bark of laughter. “Wielders also follow their witch’s orders—which you obviously failed to do.”
“Perhaps you should have used the bond,” he gritted out, his fist tightening around his sword’s grip. Like he needed something to squeeze. Like it was my throat he was imagining, trapped beneath his fingers.
It didn’t seem like the right time to tell him that I almost had used it. That thought grounded me. I blinked, then blinked again. This…this wasn’t me. This wasn’t us. He seemed to register my change as I pushed back the darkness lurking in me.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“He tried to hurt you,” I said, glancing at the assassin before stalking towards him. “He tried to kill you, while I wasn’t here to protect you. He tried to take you from me.” Rixon’s furious expression didn’t waver, not even an inch. “You are mine. No one hurts what’s mine. No one, Rixon.”
A small, guttural sound of frustration tore from the back of his throat. He stepped forward, twisting his fingers into my hair until I was forced to look up at him. “I might belong to you, little witch, but this isn’t the Citadel, and that assassin was property of the crown.”
“Well, the crown didn’t get very far, did it?”
“So you thought to bring a demon into my palace?! Did anyone see—?”
“What do you take me for? A fool? Of course not! I drew the circle in the hidden corridor leading to the dungeon, the one we found while mapping them out.”
“So, you’re drawing summoning circles now,” he balked. I lifted my chin in answer, daring him to say something. To tell me that kind of magic wasn’t permitted. Instead, he let out another sound of anger, loosening his grip but not releasing me. “Did you at least get information?”
“Just a name—Darius Santos. He said the male hired him, paid him to cut your throat. I believe Santos—whoever he is—has a genuine interest in seeing you dead.”
He blew out a breath, his shoulders dropping. While some of his fury fled, his irritation was still present. He released me and took several steps away, turning his back to me. When he finally spun around, he said, “I told you to come and find me, Mina. I waited all day, and you never came.”
The rest of my anger fled.
He stared at me, waiting.
I let a sultry smile cross my lips. “I suppose it’s not too late, is it?”
He looked at the assassin, then nudged the male with his foot. “I’m not fucking you next to a dead body.”
Before I could respond, he strode from the room, leaving me to gape after him.
Had he…had he just…
Was that a rejection?
I tried to make sense of it, standing in silence for several long moments. Maybe he meant that we’d go fuck somewhere else. Yes, that was it.
I spurred myself into action, lifting my heavy skirts to follow after him. His guards passed me in the corridor, no doubt going to collect the mess I’d made. I reached the end and looked around. He’d already ascended the staircase. I chased after him, only to find him entering the dining hall.
“Damn it,” I hissed under my breath. Okay, perhaps he was truly angry. Had I really messed up that badly?
I looked between the doorway, catching a glimpse of the courtiers within, and the staircase that would take me up to his chambers.
My body was frozen with indecision. Hissing under my breath, I lifted my chin and strode into the dining room.
The sight of the table had my steps faltering, but I recovered and continued forward.
Rixon was already at the head, once reserved for his father, responding to something one of his courtiers said.
When he caught sight of me, his jaw tightened but he gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and said, “Lord Haspel, move down one place, my lady witch will be joining us for dinner.”
My breath hitched with relief, not sure if it was because he was accommodating me despite being angry, or if it was because he’d called me his.
Either way, I rushed to the empty chair, allowing him to scoot it in before taking his own.
The rest of his courtiers took their seats and dinner was served.
I ate my first course in silence, observing the others around me.
The buzz of conversation and clanking cutlery filled the air.
Most of Rixon’s advisors sat nearest us, discussing business.
“I spoke with Mya today,” I quietly told him, relaying details of my visit so the others wouldn’t overhear.
There were six witches stationed in the capital, and given the upheaval within the Citadel, I’d needed to see where Mya’s loyalties lay.
I’d spent over an hour at King’s Mantle catching up with them.
“She and the others have no intention of leaving the capital or joining with Skye. They were loyal to Fiona.”
Rixon merely grunted, acting overly interested in his second course.
I blew out a frustrated breath. “I spoke with Herrin, too. He’s… I can tell he’s taking her death hard, as expected. He doesn’t look like he’s brushed his hair in days.”
Rixon grunted again. Try as I might, I couldn’t get anything more out of him. He really was mad, wasn’t he?
“I’m sorry, all right?” I tried to hold his gaze but he refused to meet mine.
I couldn’t begin to imagine the weight of the crown.
How it was crushing him. He’d wanted one thing from me today, one thing.
To come and find him. To offer a reprieve.
I’d failed. “I lost track of time, all right? It won’t happen again. ”
“Trouble in paradise?” Lord Holland eyed us from two places down. I hadn’t realized he’d stopped his conversation to listen in on ours.
I caught sight of Trudy watching us and quickly turned my gaze away. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, Lord Holland,” Rixon bit out. I shot him an apologetic glance. He lowered his voice, barely above a whisper, and said, “We’ll discuss this later.”
“All right.” I exhaled, then went back to eating.
The main course seemed to stretch on for an age. I ran through a million apologies and explanations, and hated every minute of it. I didn’t like messing up. We’d only just moved past everything. Now this?
I was nearly groaning with relief when dessert was served, along with warm drinks for those who wanted them.
Rixon was a fast eater, thankfully. I appreciated his haste.
I couldn’t blame him. I knew how little he liked to socialize, and could only imagine how painful these dinners were.
I should have been inserting myself into the conversation for his sake, like I usually did.
I just…couldn’t pull myself out of my sullen mood.
To think, he’d suffered through each of these meals, night after night, without my presence.
Guilt burrowed under my skin. If I hadn’t left like I had, perhaps I could have joined him for a few. Not that I’d had much choice. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d just stayed here.
Would things have escalated at the Citadel? Would Skye have waited? Would Fiona still be alive?
The scrape of a chair had everyone jumping to their feet.
Rixon bid everyone a rushed goodnight, then motioned for me.
I quickly stood and wove my arm through his, creating the perfect picture of contentedness between us as we left the hall.
As we walked, I stole glances up at him.
His expression was hard and unyielding, making my stomach knot.
The corridors were empty. My voice was low as I said, “Are you angry because I failed to follow your orders, or because of the assassin?”
“Both,” he bit out.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. Blowing out a breath I said, “I’m sorry, all right?”
“Sometimes an apology isn’t enough, Mina.”
His words made me falter, but we kept walking. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you might have said sorry, but sorry doesn’t fix how I feel right now.”
I clicked my teeth together, contemplating what to say next as we reached his door. He pushed it open and strode inside, dropping my arm as soon as we were over the threshold, like he couldn’t wait to put space between us. My chest gave an uncomfortable squeeze—
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite couple!” A familiar, jovial voice had me drawing up short.
Rixon was already gaping at the person who stood in the sitting area.
“Jessin!” I squealed, mastering my shock and racing forward to claim a hug.
If there was anyone I could forgive for interrupting an argument, it was Rixon’s childhood friend.
The sight of him diminished my frustration, replacing it with eagerness.
Rixon appeared beside me, greeting Jessin with a clap on the back before pulling him into an embrace.
“How is it you’re here?!” I asked, smiling with delight.
“Our unit got relocated,” Jessin answered. “Though, I can’t imagine why.”
“I called you back,” said Rixon.
“Figured as much.” Jessin looked him up and down. “Look at you—a king! Seems your duty found you in the end, no matter how hard you tried to escape it.” Rixon’s happy expression melted away at the reminder. “I’m guessing that means you could use a drink.”
“I could use more than one,” Rixon growled. My stomach flipped, realizing that I was partly to blame for that.
“Well then!” Jessin’s expression brightened as he clapped Rixon on the back. “What are we waiting for? Let’s head into the city and have some fun.” Jessin threw me a questioning look.
I eyed the two of them, Rixon’s words from a few minutes ago coming back. “You two go on,” I managed, even though it hurt me to say it. “I’m sure you’ve got tons of catching up to do.”
“Boys night, then?” Jessin grinned even wider.
“As long as you promise to keep him out of trouble,” I teased.
Rixon’s eyes latched onto mine, studying me. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but he didn’t urge me to reconsider. Maybe this would be the best thing for him. Time away from me.
“We’ll behave ourselves,” he said at last, leaning in to brush a kiss over my cheek. I froze, holding my breath. His next words were whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered in return.
We could still fight and love each other simultaneously. In fact, it was because of our love that our fights felt more intense. Because we cared so deeply.
“I’ll return later.” He stepped back and Jessin slung an arm around his neck. Rixon was half a head taller, so Jessin had to reach. I watched them go, rooted in place. When the door clicked shut, I blew out a breath, shoulders falling.
There were still hours before bed. I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, regardless. Glancing around, I spotted the stack of books I’d retrieved from the library. Taking the first, I settled onto the sofa to continue my research.
I was looking for information about King Avrin Kozma and the founding of his city.
The portal had been created at that time as a quest for power, though I still didn’t know why.
Had the witches hoped to bargain with the demons living on the other side?
They’d created it by torturing the daughter of a local clan leader, using her anguish and the sacrifice of her life.
I’d connected enough dots from Ophelia’s journal.
What I didn’t know was how to close it. Could it be as simple as closing a rift?
Knitting something broken back together?
Would the demon prince know? I’d already made a trip to the tallest tower without seeing it. I wished I could ask.
Words blurred on the page and I found my mind wandering back to Rixon. I’d overstepped today by taking matters into my own hands. He was right, in that the assassin was the property of the crown. But the guards had failed to exact any valid information.
I’d meant what I said, that Rixon was mine.
This went deeper than semantics. Rixon had admitted to feeling a lack of control. Taking matters into my own hands had taken them out of his. I should have spoken with him first. We were supposed to be a team. Supposed to discuss things.
I guess I had hoped to tackle this matter so that he could focus on everything else. Instead, it had backfired. Worse still, I’d allowed the distraction to keep me from him. He’d wanted me today, and I’d failed to go to him.
How would I feel in his shoes, if I’d told him to come to me and he’d ignored my orders?
I blew away a chunk of hair that had fallen into my face. I wasn’t going to get more research done tonight. Resigned, I retrieved my journal and began recreating the scene from the dungeon, layering in stones before I outlined the assassin, hanging from the chains.
My fingers grew stained with black as I sketched the hulking shape of the Jarg in the corner, exactly as Rixon had found us.
A small part of me had reveled in the pain and torment while I commanded the demon to torture the assassin—the male who’d tried to harm the one person I had left in this world.
At least he’d given me some information.
I scratched Darius Santos’s name on the side of the page.
Who was he? But more importantly, why did he want my wielder dead?