And then the doors open.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Crymson
My palm is sweatingin Christian’s cold hand, but I can’t bring myself to let him go. My nerves are a tangled mess buzzing around my racing thoughts. I don’t want to do this.I don’t want to step outside. I don’t want to see him again.
I don’t want any of it.
The moment the door opens, all that anxious energy disappears, and is replaced with sudden confusion. Ash tinges the hot air. Smoke drifts in and clouds my sight as we step out into an unbearable heat.
The garden is a dirt path. Hard soil and dry dust kick up around my black satin heels. The smoke clears, and then I see why.
The wordstarlightechoes through my thoughts with every moment anyone here has repeatedly said it.
Because starlight doesn’t exist for these people.
Delilah’s voice is loud and clear in my mind:
The Thorn King burned our borders as a reminder to us...
Burning embers flick through the air while a cloud of smoke looms overhead. If there’s sunlight or moonlight, either one, they’re covered by a sky of eternal flames.
“It’s Armageddon,” I whisper, frozen where I stand.
Christian’s steely eyes lift to the crimson sky before looking back at me like he has just revealed a dark secret he never meant to tell me.
“Wasn’t always like this,” Rorrick murmurs. “Starlight used to bathe us in the magic of the heavens.”
“H—how long has it been like this?”
“Ever since I can remember,” Seven whispers ominously.
“What causes the flames?”
“Depends who you ask about the curse.” Christian’s thumb brushes back and forth against my knuckles, and I hate that I’m thinking about how he refused me just moments ago in an end-of-days moment like this. “My father blames the Thorn King’s dark magic. And the fae... they blame us.”
I’m mesmerized by the flow of the smoke and flames that move overhead like a storm angering a deadly sea. I feel every dip and roll of the heat.
But suddenly, I feel something else prickling across my skin.
The most alluring man parts the dense crowd. It’s his wingspan that people step aside for; a look of awe and fear overtakes their faces as he passes by. Enormous black wings rise up from his shoulders; beautiful, sleek wings appearing dipped in stark ink and forbidden magic. His stare is so focused on me, it becomes unnerving. A slash of black paint shimmers across piercing blue eyes, and there are strange points that pierce through his bronzed skin. The prickling points of what look like several small black diamonds frame his eyes. They veer down the column of his throat on both sides and even kiss the backs of his big hands—hands that also appear dipped in ink.
Thorns pierce from his skin like a disease...
I swallow hard as he comes nearer. Christian’s frame is tense. Protective. He takes a single step in front of me. His hand extending forward long before the mysterious, handsome man ever gets here.
The stranger doesn’t take the prince’s offer of introduction though. Daunting pale eyes study the prince’s hand but blatantly disregard the offering. Instead, he lowers down. He kneels to one knee with his head bowed so intently, I think he’ll kiss Christian’s shining black shoes.
But it isn’t Christian he’s bowing to.
Two big hands grasp mine, his heat burning across my flesh as he presses his temple to my knuckles. Sharp, glinting thorns prickle over the back of my hand.
“My kindred,” he whispers like a prayer, his words inciting a frenzy of nerves to fire all through my body. “I’ve waited for you longer than you know.”
My wide eyes meet Christian’s, our stares colliding over the man worshiping down at my feet.
“Thorn, how generous of you to give my father such a—” Christian’s pause lingers in the air as his attention heats across the flesh of my breasts, my lips and eyes, “Delectable gift.”
