Mists billowed, hiding his eyes for a breath, then Skul Drek stood a pace away. “Not all is as it seems.”
Gods, I didn’t know how to do this. To find the bones, I needed to be connected to the dark mirror land. I needed to meld. Should I meld, Skul Drek seemed content to continue attacking as penance.
“Time grows short.” The assassin took a step away. A skein of darkness flicked the strange tether between us again. “I may find ways to stay my sword. Will you keep your word?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
His cold grin sliced through the shadows. “I suppose we shall see.”
The final threads tugged the hooked claw onto Hundur’s knuckles and, as though a rope fastened around my middle, I was pulled away.
I took another sip ofthe pungent tea. It tasted a great deal like sap and tree bark, but it softened the furrow of Roark’s brow and he eased back on the bench. If not for the Sentry insisting I’d exhausted myself from the use of my craft, I was certain Damir would’ve forced me to parade around the luncheons and game yard.
Hundur needed to reveal his new horrid claws, after all.
I was becoming a reminder that the Jorvan king had a weapon.
A weapon the Death Bringer saw as weak enough he forced fetid herbs down her throat, like a tonic on a deathbed.
“I’m fine, Roark,” I said, forcing a weak grin when he tapped the edge of the table again, a signal I needed to drink more.
You were entranced too long.
Entranced. It was a good way to put it. Emi always described my eyes as a glassy lake. Glazed over with a sheen they could not break through. Not until I was thrust out.
I winced through another sip. Part of me yearned to tell Roark the truth, of the conversation I’d had with a phantom of Skul Drek. Some sort of dark spell craft was at play.
It meant the phantom knew exactly where I was in both the mirror and the waking world.
But his threat of giving up what I knew would not leave me. Doubtless Skul Drek would make good on his threat to find me, to end me, should I betray him. Of course, he might betray me first because he was a killer at heart.
He might be using me to find the Wanderer for himself.
I returned the tin cup to the table, one half of my mouth twisted in a grin. Roark’s eyes heated, watching me as I drifted around the table and took a place at his side on the bench.
A muscle jumped in his jaw when my palm dropped to his thigh.
“Worried for me, Sentry?” My whole body was alive with a rush of desire. I was not one to be bold or licentious. Life had trained me well to be demure and unseen. When I realized what I’d done, I slowly drew back my hand.
Roark caught my wrist. His fingers came to my chin and tilted my head so I could meet his dark, golden eyes. He was close enough I could feel the deeper draws of his breath against my hair.
The rough tip of his thumb brushed over my cheek. Roark did not gesture or write a response, merely nodded and hooked an arm around my waist, urging my body closer.
Close enough I leveraged my legs on either side of his hips, straddling him.
My brow pressed against his. Roark dug his fingertips into my hips, lips parted. A dark groan rumbled against my body, and in this moment, whatever he asked of me I would do. I wanted to scream at him to command me, to take the whole of me.
I was overwhelmed, confused. I did not know how to stop the spinning that rotated around a man who should’ve been revolting, should’ve been an enemy.
Now I could not get my fill of him.
Roark held my gaze. One palm roved up the side of my waist, his long fingers touching every divot of my ribs. The other hand glided down until he reached the ruffled hem of my skirt gathered around my bent legs.
I hooked my arm around his neck, my fingers playing with the ends of his hair, and I watched as his hands disappeared beneath the folds of my skirt.
Everything slowed. His palm on my bare thigh drifted slower, drifted higher. My blood was molten. I couldn’t think.
For a man enrobed in darkness, he touched with a scorching gentility that drew out ragged breaths and embarrassing moans I could not stop if I tried.
