Her hand flew beneath her shirt, clutching at the hidden ink as if she could bury the truth. The flush of her cheeks burned hot and traitorous. Her throat closed, and she nearly choked on the secret itself.
Jakobav looked down at her, unrelenting.
He raised his hand toward her quickly, only for his fingers to then slowly drag across the fevered line of her cheekbone.The touch was not for comfort. She was utterly out of control, stripped bare.
Then he stepped past her. “Go back to my room, Ella,” he said, his voice colder now. “Before someone starts asking what side you’re on.”
She had barely even begun the search, and already, she was losing her footing.
15
SECRETS AND SMOKE
Ella paced the narrow span of stone, cloak clutched tight, heart still pounding with the echo of Jakobav’s words. Rest was out of the question. From the way his gaze had dropped to her chest, to the way he’d saidPrincesslike he was testing the taste of it on his tongue, she knew she was in deeper trouble than she’d ever dared imagine.
There’s no way he knows.
And yet there had been no trial or dungeons. No interrogations. Not even a summons from the Dravaryn crown demanding allegiance. There had only been warm food, thick blankets, and a brooding commander who looked at her like he could strip her down to bone and still find something worth savoring.
Ella shivered and pushed the disturbing thought aside.
Why hadn’t he turned her in? Ella stopped pacing, breath snagging as the thought looped wild inside her.
He’s hiding me.
He’s protecting me?
Fuck. He knows.
She pressed her palm to her temple, the weight of it crushing. Maybe it had been obvious from the beginning. Was it her accent or the remnants of her magic that had betrayed her? Maybe Jakobav had smelled it in her blood, and gods, what if that hadn’t been a metaphor? What if he had known from the moment she collapsed at his feet?
She thought about Bryn’s words.“It hadn’t behaved like claimed magic. It had pushed back, defended her before she even realized she was in danger.”
Her magic had chosen in a feral, instinctive rush, reaching for Jakobav without her command. It had flared in a place where there should’ve been nothing but silence, smothered within Dravaryn soil.
What is wrong with my magic?
The question swelled until it eclipsed the room, the walls, the night, even the prophecy that had dragged her into the dark and refused to let her go. She’d come for an artifact, a relic buried beneath enemy soil.
Perhaps the relic was never an object, but a path.
A jarring knock split the air, and Ella flinched, her heart leaping into her throat.
Jakobav didn’t wait for permission, although to be fair, he never did.
He stepped inside clothed in black leathers, dark hair pulled back in a low tie that once again left his jawline criminally exposed, the kind of jaw sculptors might chase their whole lives and still never capture. His presence devoured the room, towering and composed, every line of him radiating a leather-clad threat.
And his mouth, gods. Full lips, shaped with a kind of impossible artistry, promising either sin or salvation. Tonight, they looked more defined than ever, unbothered and utterly unfair. Ink wound down his arms from beneath his sleeves,dark symbols she hadn’t truly seen before. When he shifted, the leather tightened across his forearms, and veins rippled like lightning trapped beneath skin.
“Put on your boots,” he said.
“No greeting? No explanation?”
His eyes found hers. “We’re leaving.”
She straightened, spine stiffening. “And where exactly do you think you’re taking me?”
“The southern ridge. A breach just opened outside Velmire’s old pass.”
