Her steps slowed at the next turn, and she could feel him behind her now, a shadow that pressed too close.
“Tell me something,” Jakobav said, his voice almost casual though she heard the bite beneath it. “Is anyone coming for you?”
Ella froze, anger sparking as fast as fear. “Why would you ask me that?”
He moved before she could react, closing the distance to catch her wrists to pin them above her head against the cold, unforgiving wall, his gaze burning into hers with unbroken focus. “Just because you should be a prisoner, and there is nodungeon in sight, does not mean I tolerate outsiders walking free in my halls.”
Her breath caught, fury clawing at her throat. “Then why am I still breathing, Prince? Why make an exception?”
He leaned closer, his mouth a breath from hers. “Would you not give someone the benefit of the doubt?”
“I would never show mercy to a man who has wronged me.”
At first, he didn’t move, but then his lips curved into a smile, dark and intrigued. “Merciless,” he murmured, tasting the word. “Always leaping to violence.” He clicked his tongue softly, mockery and warning woven into the sound, and let her arms fall, his fingers lingering on hers.
“I have to leave the castle for a few hours,” he said at last, still close enough that his heat brushed against her.
Her pulse leapt, and she jerked her wrists free, chin lifting. “Where are you going?”
His mouth twitched, almost a smirk. “Curious little intruder.”
“Answer me.”
Jakobav leaned in until his breath was warm and rough at her ear. “If you think I’ll tell you where I go and why, then you’re more reckless than I thought.”
Her stomach tightened. “Coward,” she whispered.
That earned her a low laugh, dark and amused, before he finally stepped back. His gaze dragged over her. “I’ll see you tonight, Ella the merciless.”
She decided she didn’t mind that title at all.
And she had no intention of proving it wrong.
10
ROOTS OF THE FORGOTTEN
She was barely strong enough to run, but she was planning to do it anyway. That last encounter with Jakobav had lit something restless within, a renewed sense of purpose that unsettled her. His presence lingered even after he was gone, and she was beginning to hate him for it.
At least she had a reprieve for now, a brief absence from his incessant and unexpected appearances, thank the gods, but still, curiosity gnawed at her, whispering its poisonous questions. Where had he gone? If Dravaryn was suffering from Threadshifting, was he out dealing with a breach?
She cursed herself for caring at all. Her focus had to remain on saving her own kingdom, on finding the relic, because sitting in his chambers like some obedient guest wouldn’t bring her closer to the object that demanded to be found. If anything, it only risked exposing her to too much of him, and already she caught herself questioning the rumors of his ruthlessness and doubting his reputation for cruelty.
And yet those rumors frayed the more she looked at him. The very fact that he’d kept her alive, that he’d hidden her intrusion, was proof of some concealed mercy.
But why? And what else was Prince Jakobav capable of?
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t stay here. The scent of scorched amber still clung to the air, filling her lungs like smoke, sharp and suffocating.
Then, without warning, power stirred in her veins. Strange, yet dangerously familiar.
Ella had always been taught that no two gifts were the same, that power was as singular as a fingerprint, stitched into blood and bone, and hers had always been fire, only fire. But this current rolling through her did not feel like the flame she knew.
She was going to try anyway.
She would listen to that power, seize it, bend it to her will. If she could only reach it, maybe she could make progress toward her plan: find the artifact and escape. So she tried her usual routine: focus, anchor her intention, and burn.
But her body didn’t listen.
