I hoped that Edda truly found a way to send word to the Sparrow Archers to rejoin us in the city. They would likely be our best option for sensing when a threat such as a Lysian drew near. The legends always said that the forest whispered to the Sparrows. That they could see beyond their vision, around the trees, and that their arrows always found their mark.
Once my breathing returned to normal, I got out of bed and put on a top and loose pants. Luckily, I found a brush in the room and somewhat tamed the unbound hair, which was a mess from tossing and turning all night. The left side of my head was still braided with our ancestral beads and ribbons, marking me as a Bavadrin and daughter of the Leader Superior.
I approached the sitting room where Kole remained guard, wondering if he would take me somewhere to meet his King.
No sooner than I deemed myself presentable, the exterior door to the sitting room opened. Erik’s eyes immediately found mine, and he momentarily paused on the threshold before entering. My focus slipped away, and I forgot what I wanted to ask Kole. My mind emptied itself and filled with the presence of the Lysian conjuror.
His gaze alone had the power to render my legs useless, for they became leaden and heavy. My breath caught in my throat. Had he always been so tall, his eyes so deep and darkly blue, like a pool of water with no bottom? Had his presence always felt likethis? Authority clung to him, to every movement, every look, and I did not know how he kept so much of it hidden when imprisoned by Fraser.
Erik wore dark clothing perfectly tailored to his body. Though his shirt opened into a deep V, showing off the hard lines of his chest. His brown hair was groomed, and he appeared to have cleaned up well since his visit to the Bavadrin lands. There was no evidence of blood staining his hands, and I hoped that he indeed did not bloody them with my people.
“Your Majesty.” Kole bowed deeply in greeting, but not before I glimpsed the smirk splayed on his face.
Your Majesty.
It was a title used for Kings and queens.
Spirit, help me.
Erik was not a mere prince.
He was the Lysian King.
7
ERIK
Ariana’s warm golden complexion paled as she realized my identity: I was not just a son of the Lysian King, not any longer. Her eyes widened in surprise, as if finally seeing me for the first time. She stood frozen in the center of the sitting area, outside the room that was hers for the duration of her stay. It was a decent suite, but most importantly, it was adjacent to mine. Even with Kole watching over her, I felt better keeping her close. It seemed she was less likely to cause trouble that way.
Her frame was more petite than I remembered. Everything about her physical appearance was harmless. Delicate hands remained at her sides, while large green eyes viewed me with caution. Her unbound hair cascaded in waves down past her shoulders; the other half of it was still secured with ribbons and braids in intricate knots.
“I need to speak with our guest alone.” I turned to Kole, who glanced at Ariana before a grin he couldn’t hide spread across his face.
“Of course,” he said, smiling like a fool, clearly relishing thediscomfort he caused the Bavadrin. With a single wink in her direction, he left the room, leaving me alone with her.
With the door to the suite behind me, I was keenly aware that Ariana had nowhere to go. She was trapped. The thought made my heart beat a fraction faster, and it was an effort to keep my expression neutral. Ariana had always seemed confident, behaving as if she were invincible, as if I posed no threat at all.
Her understanding had expanded since then. Now, for every step I took towards her, she took steps back until she stood at the far end of her chamber. She only stopped moving when I did, pausing on the threshold of her bedroom.
“You fear me now?” I asked, noting the faint scent of it emanating from her.
The column of her throat worked, lips parting, drawing in a breath. “You’re a conjuror,” she stated, “and the King of the Lysians.” It wasn’t an answer, but both titles should have unsettled someone in her position.
“Do you not have conjurors where you come from?” I asked casually, knowing they must. Conjurors existed among all our races—Lysian, Bavadrin, and Sidhe.
She hesitated for only a moment.
“Not like you,” she replied cautiously, clearly guarding her people’s secrets. It mattered not, for I did not need her to offer them up. I only needed to control them. Through her, I hoped it would be easy to do just that.
The time I had to speak with her was short, and I wished there was more of it. It was rare to find someone like her, so fragile, yet so seemingly brave. Despite her hesitation and the fact that she now carefully backed away when I approached, she still held her head high, and her hands did not tremble by her sides. She displayed a certain confidence. Yet a small tendril of fear had wrapped around her.
I wondered how deeply that courageous exterior of herscracked by the recent turn of events in her life. Was it further crumbling while we spoke? Had she finally gathered enough sense to know the dire situations she placed herself in over the past several days?
When in battle I lifted my hand to strike the Bavadrin guard who cowered at my feet, it was partially because he opposed me, but it was also because he placed a curious thing such as Ariana into my path for me to take if I wished. She entered my cell because he opened the door for her. He was no protector, a lousy guard, and not the kind of male I needed to join my army. But then her voice called my name, rising above all sounds, and she struck a bargain. Ariana sacrificed her father for that pathetic guard who trembled at my feet. It was clear that she cared for him and so he was spared, as a favor to her. I wondered how she now felt about it all—freely offering up her own blood, to save a simple guard who harbored little concern for her safety.
To unravel Ariana’s thoughts, to see her fears splayed out before me…my pulse quickened. How delicious it would have been to know those things. Her hiding behind a false shell of courage only made me more curious about what vulnerability lingered behind it. I found myself walking a fine line—wishing to show her that Lysians were not simply the monsters Bavadrins made us out to be, yet also desiring to become just that. It bothered me that she behaved as if I were harmless while in their pitiful Bavadrin dungeon.
I shoved those thoughts aside and forced myself to focus. I was the King, and as such, I needed not to play games with the Bavadrin girl who I hoped would become helpful in the days to come.
