“By whom?”
He looks away, like he said too much, like he’s weighing his options. But I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of secrets. Lies.
“By whom?” I repeat, sharper.
“Could you give me just a seed of your trust?” he asks.
I slowly shake my head, but he takes my hand gently in his and I let him.
Those males make me question everything.
“The pieces on our board are much more powerful than you imagine. I’m nothing but a lowly servant. I know war, obedience, and loyalty; the politics and scheming aren’t for me. Yet, I think you don’t need heavy truths in your mind before your test tomorrow.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper. “I only want what’s best for you. Never doubt that. I know you are capable of making your own choices, but please… consider mycounsel.”
“Will you tell me after the test?” I press, sighing and letting my shoulders slump. My head’s a mess; I don’t want to hear any more bad news.
“If you want me to.”
“I do.”
He bows his head, tucking his wings in with grace.
“Take me to the cottage,” I order.
He fixes his gaze on me with an emotion I can only call longing. It’s a dangerous invitation, pulling at the frayed edges of my resolve. And I want to stay. I want to give in, even with the turmoil he made in my heart.
But the itching is practically unbearable.
“Now, Riven,” I repeat.
The pain on his beautiful face might be one of my greatest crimes, and I am the Savage, Murderous Queen.
Maybe I should try again with that cliff?
Chapter 23
The Sword Test is held at its “secret ground” on one of the top flat surfaces. Secret only because the purple clouds obscure the view from any flying wanderers. In reality, it’s a big ass stone colosseum on top of the mountain. Nothing secret about it.
I feel like a freaking spectacle, standing in a giant circle of salt that blocks magic from reaching the observers, seated on the surrounding benches. The purple clouds are almost within reach.
A little too dramatic for my taste.
My males sit with Bogda and Wisla, and I am spiteful enough to say the heifers’ enormous efforts to entertain them don’t work. My boys’ expressions are sour and gloomy, which is probably the effect of the restricted booth, preventing them from interfering in the ceremony.
At least in that I can agree with Baba Yaga, it is better to keep them contained while I get my ass handed to me.
You cannot go in expecting to lose!The anger in Aidon’s voice is muffled by the magic separating us.
So quiet that it can pass for background noise.
The smirk appears involuntarily. I need to buy that spell.
“You’re in a good mood. Great. You’ll need it.” Margorate doesn’t even glance up from the cauldron. The stench rising from the mixture killed my sense of smell long ago.
Some kind of acidic monstrosity.
“So your strategy is to bore me to death before it even begins?” I tilt my head, eyeing her, but she rolls her eyes and pulls a beautifully carved ceremonial knife from the pocket of her unfashionable fur.
I stare as she drags the tip over her hand, slow and steady, as if savoring the sting. When the first bead of blood breaks free and trails along her palm, she tilts her chin toward the stands, eyes sharp with intent.
