Ella’s stomach flipped, heat crawling over her skin before she could stop it.
Gods, her body betrayed her far too easily around him.
She straightened, forcing her voice level. “Then I’ll take option A. I’m coming with you, by my choice, but if I’m venturing with you to investigate a breach, I should be armed.”
Jakobav’s hand slipped in and out of his cloak, metal gleaming between his fingers as he revealed a familiar hilt. “You mean like this one?” His tone was almost amused. “Yes, I noticed when you took it. And yes, it gave me immense satisfaction to take it back.”
Ella made a strained, exasperated sound, rolling her eyes, though the air between them seemed to crackle hotter with every word.
He tilted the knife, letting the torchlight catch on the edge. His voice was velvet over steel. “I’m glad you’re drawn to this blade. I’m particularly fond of it myself. After all…it’s the same one I pressed against your throat the other night.”
Ella’s jaw went slack.
Then anger snapped through her.
An annoyed sound escaped as she darted forward, hand reaching for the hilt.
Jakobav lifted it easily out of reach, his other hand closing around her throat, fingers firm but unyielding.
The look he gave her was all pressure and intent, like he was daring her to test him.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “Come with me willingly, and I’ll give it to you. You’ll be meeting a few of my First Guard, and if I put this knife back in your hand, I need your promise you won’t try to slit any of their throats with it.”
Ella pried his hand off her neck, squeezing his wrist harder than necessary, and smiled sweetly enough to be insulting. “I promise.” She held out her hand, expectant.
He placed the knife in her palm, his expression doubtful, then gestured for her to walk ahead of him as though the matter were settled.
She slipped the knife into her pocket, then yanked the cloak tighter around her shoulders, masking nerves with a shard of sarcasm. “So thoughtful. Always the gentleman.”
His mouth curved faintly, a shadow of a smirk. “Don’t get used to it.”
When she still didn’t move, his smirk thinned. With a sound low in his throat, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door, cloak flaring behind him. He didn’t look back, didn’t slow, clearly expecting her to follow.
Ella didn’t move right away, her mind shouting that she shouldn’t go.
The artifact was still here, buried somewhere in this castle, and the prophecy was the reason she’d come, the only reason she’d left.
She’d already given up her name, her safety, her kingdom…all for this mission. And now she was leaving with a man who’d just had his hand around her neck?
But time was slipping through her fingers like dust.
Her stomach twisted, every instinct screaming that this should feel wrong. And yet…another pull rose in her chest,steadier, quieter. A thread she couldn’t name, whispering that this was part of it, not a detour, but a path instead.
Jakobav’s voice lingered in her mind:Do not make me your villain.She couldn’t ignore it, the strange magic that had stirred in her veins since she crossed into Dravaryn. Besides, it would probably be for only a few days, a ride out on a scouting mission, a chance to see how Dravaryns handled Threadshifting and maybe even learn new techniques to battle the breaches for the benefit of her own kingdom.
Jakobav may have been her enemy but he might also be the key to understanding this strange magic thrumming just below her hidden sigil, and to surviving what was coming.
She tugged the cloak tight around her shoulders.
This was strategy, not surrender.
A shift in the angle of attack.
17
WARDS WE CHOOSE
Morning broke cold and clear, frost turning brittle grass to crystal. The sky bled pale violet, the kind of color that warned of storms, and the wind dragged at her cloak as if even the land disapproved.
