Like the air right before a storm, charged with waiting energy, ready to be unleashed. There was old magic here, the kind I’d never encountered before, and despite being half dead and completely frozen, excitement shivered through me.
Torin was right after all.
The Triunemustbe here.
“We’ll take her to the main hall; he’s bound to have a fire going,” Varian muttered, sweeping ahead of us down the darkened hallway toward a half-open door that glowed with warm, golden light.
“He’d fucking better have a fire going,” Ryland said, then swore again as he dove forward to catch me as my legs gave out completely, searching my face for a moment before he tightened his grip around my waist.
My body was numb from the neck down, my thoughts darkening around the edges, consciousness slipping awayno matter how hard I tried to hold on. Maybe I should just let go, but some stubborn part of me refused to give in that easily.
Besides, being crushed against Ryland’s hard, muscled body was…kind of nice.
Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, least of all the object of my afflictions.
“Well, you’ll hate me for this, but since you hate me already, I suppose nothing’s lost,” Ryland murmured, swinging me effortlessly into his arms and settling me against his chest. “There, and don’t worry, I’m not planning on making this a habit.”
If I wasn’t half dead, I would have been impressed how he managed to make me feel small and feminine, striding toward the light with me in his arms like some conquering king returning to his castle.
And if I wasn’t on the verge of losing consciousness, I might have worried when we entered a soaring, luxurious room, where a fire blazed in the hearth and a male dressed head to toe in black shot out of his chair and lunged toward Varian.
The stranger’s fist smashed into Varian’s face with a thick, meaty sound that made every muscle in my body contract, and I scrambled out of Ryland’s arms. But Ry only pinned me tightly against his chest with arms of steel, forcing me to watch the stranger sink his other fist into Varian’s stomach.
Var crashed down on all fours, spit dribbling from his mouth.
“You fuckingbastard,” the stranger panted, long black hair tangled around his face, blue eyes gleaming with wildness. “Both of you fucking bastards. You’re months too late.Too fucking late.”
For one fraught moment the two males stared at each other as I waited for Varian to reach for his weapon, to fight back, to dosomething…
“I waited and waited and you never showed and now…” The stranger swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “Now everything isfucked. Do you understand? Completely fucked.”
Then he offered Varian his hand and pulled my oldest friend in for a crushing embrace, his glittering indigo gaze narrowing when it skimmed coldly over Ryland before landing firmly on me.
The effect was cataclysmic when our eyes met—two people who shouldn’t ever have met colliding in such a way as this. There was bitter anger there, honed over years, sharp and pointed—an anger I recognized enough to look away.
This male had so much royal blood running through his veins, I could practically see the purple.
His handsome face was sculpted by the gods, his hair the darkest black, his tall, muscular body…he moved like he was trained for fighting, with not a single wasted movement, something I could appreciate. But he had all the arrogant haughtiness I’d seen replayed over and over again at the Shadow King’s court, so I despised him on sight.
Varian wiped his bleeding nose on his sleeve, leaving a garish sweep of red across his cheek.
The sight did something to my insides. That injury made me want to cross the room and wipe the blood off. Press my lips to his. Turn around and plunge my dagger into the stranger’s heart for hurting my oldest friend.
I was so tangled up in the push-pull of emotions, I finally realized two things that should have been apparent all along.
One, clearly, this pompous asshat was the Dark Prince of the Shadowlands.
And two, I was in love with Varian Kronos.
I’d always been in love with him, even when I’d loved Ryland.
Such a pathetically obvious revelation, and yet, at the same time, such a complete shock I could hardly breathe.
“Where the fuck have you two assholes been? You told me you’d be here six months ago, and now, as you can clearly see, everything is ruined.” Prince Fucktwat waved a hand at me, like I was some mangy dog they’d dragged in. “And who the fuck is this? Frostveil isn’t a godsdamned hotel. I don’t take in strays. Or strangers.”
He pulled a dagger, the wickedly sharp edge glinting in the firelight.
“Put your fucking knife away, Kade,” Ryland snapped. “She’s an old friend, the Fae Queen’s head of security, the commander of the Dreadwatch, Lyrae Antares.”
