Ashterion turned his head slightly, his lips brushing the skin of her throat where she’d leaned in.
“If it pleases you,” he murmured. “Then I’m glad.”
Xyliria’s eyes fluttered closed for half a breath. Her fingers slipped from the hilt of the blade to trace the line she’d drawn across his abdomen, smearing blood like ink across a page.
Xyliria’s bloody fingers lifted, tracing a lazy circle above his heart.
“But,” she sighed, almost wistfully, “as pretty as you’ve been tonight, I think I’ve had my fill of watching you pretend to enjoy hurting her.”
The words struck harder than any blade. But he didn’t speak. Not yet.
“I let you play at torturer once. A novelty. But it never really suited you, did it?” Her voice dropped to a venomous coo. “I prefer you in other roles. Decorative. Compliant. Obedient.”
The blade dipped, carving a shallow arc down his thigh. Ashterion’s breath hitched. Still, he didn’t scream. Didn’t give her the satisfaction.
“I’ll be sending you both to Ryleth.”
No.
No.
Xyliria smiled, sweet as poison. “He was so very excited when I told him. Practically purred. He’ll take excellent care of her spirit. Break what’s left of it. And as a reward…” She leaned in again, lips brushing his ear. “He gets you. Leashed and bleeding, just the way he likes.”
She drew back, tilting her head. “I told him you’d bemost compliant.”
Ashterion swallowed hard, the taste of blood thick on his tongue.
“If that is what you wish,” he said hoarsely, exactly the way she liked it.
“You see?” she whispered. “You can be so lovely when you remember who you belong to. In fact?—”
The door flew open.
Ashterion’s eyes flicked up, just in time to see Merrick freeze.
The breath left his brother in one violent exhale. His eyes locked on the scene. On the chains, the blood, the blade buried in Ashterion’s flesh.
Ashterion saw the shift happen—the fury, the betrayal, the bone-deep horror twisting Merrick’s expression. His hands clenched at his sides, trembling with the force of it.
“Get. Away. From him,” Merrick snarled.
Xyliria, of course, only smiled.
“Oh, please,” she sighed. “Don’t be dramatic. He enjoys it.” She trailed a blood-slicked finger down Ashterion’s chest. “Don’t you, darling?”
Ashterion met Merrick’s stare. And gave nothing away.
“Merrick,” Xyliria said, glancing over her shoulder. “Be a dear and close the door, won’t you? I’d hate for the court to think you’re the type to interrupt a private moment.”
Lightning flared across Merrick’s frame.
Ashterion forced his voice to work. “It’s fine,” he said, flat and cold. “You’re dismissed.”
Merrick’s mouth opened, then snapped shut.
Ashterion could see the war in his features. Could feel the storm of it. But then Merrick took one slow step back. And another. Until he was at the door.
Ashterion held his gaze the whole time.
