Then he reaches for the buckle.
My eyes widen—then narrow. “I know you bought me from Dane, but I’m a little surprised you want my teeth anywhere near your—”
“I didn’tbuyyou.” Instead of unfastening the buckle, he unfastens the pouch beside it, and now he just sounds aggravated. “Bleeding skies, Asher.”
He withdraws a small key and unlocks the cuff on my left wrist. I should probably take the opportunity to punch him, but I’m so startled by this that I don’t move.
Especially when he clicks it onto his own.
After years with the slavers, and then years in the Hunter’s Guild, it takes a lot to shock me. This does it. I thought he was going to burn me into a pile of soot. Not...whatever this is. My eyes shoot from his face to the steel band tethering me to him.
It shocks Garrett, too, especially when the king tosses the key in his direction. I think the soldier’s eyes are as wide as mine.
“I’ve been more than fair,” the king says. His voice is low and resolute and leaves no room for argument. “I’ll remind you that I have a limit. Get up. Walk.”
More than fair, my ass. I’m not one of his soldiers, and he can go right to the pit of hell.
I set my jaw, sit back on my heels, and don’t move.
“Get up,” he says again.
The snow is making my feet go numb, but I glare up at him. “Fuck you.”
Maddox Kyronan takes a step closer, until his boots are right at my knees. “Asher.Get up.”
“I said,fuck you.” The words sound juvenile and petulant, and I don’t care. “Make me.”
His expression doesn’t flicker, and his tone doesn’t change. “Do you want me to make you?”
Somehow the question makes my mouth go dry, and I’m not entirely sure why. But the words are spoken with low intensity, and my heart suddenly beats hard. Maybe it’s the way his voice isn’t tight with anger, just quiet conviction. Maybe it’s the focus of his gaze or the fact that I’m on my knees at his feet.
Maybe it’s because this doesn’t feel like a threat, it feels like a choice.
As I stare up at him, I realize that we were in almost this exact position hours ago, except our roles were reversed. I had a dagger in my hand, a blade at his throat. He didn’t yield.
Something tells me he won’t yield in this instant either.
Do you want me to make you?
He could. I know he could. Either through magic or force or even if he just dragged me by the chain. But seconds tick by as he waits for mydecision, as if his patience is eternal. As if he genuinely wants me to weigh the simple choice between him breaking all my bones or me getting up as he commanded. I don’t know if that makes him more terrifying or less. Either way, I’m off-balance. I don’t want to choose wrong.
He hasn’t moved, and those fierce eyes haven’t left mine.
Before I realize it, I’m shaking my head.
“Good,” he says, his voice unchanged. “Get up.”
This time, the command sparks something inside me, and I scramble onto my feet so roughly I nearly stumble into Garrett. The movement jars my shoulder, and I clutch my wrist to my belly, my breath coming in short bursts. A sudden sweat slicks my back, some combination of pain and humiliation—and maybe a little bit of something else entirely.
He made me yield without lifting a finger. Without even raising his voice.
The king is watching me, as if anticipating my rage. “Don’t fuck with me, Asher.” He nods toward the tavern. “Walk.”
I hate him. I hate everything.
But I walk.
Chapter Eighteen
