Relief flooded me as the room went so silent that all I could hear was my own breathing and Owain’s panting. My knees threatened to buckle. I wanted to fall into the nearest chair, but my hands were still on him—one on his back, the other gripping his arm, holding us both upright.
All this while Emrys stood like a statue, face carved of ice, in front of the man whose life he’d just held with tiny tendrils of his magic. Only his eyes blazed with fury. Yet, that fury wavered when his gaze finally met mine again. There was a puzzling undercurrent of something I wished I could discern with my magic, but his walls were solidly in place.
Infuriating man.
Owain straightened slowly, blessedly still breathing. Then, to my astonishment, he bowed low to Emrys. “I apologize most gravely, Prince Emrys. Lady Isca.” He glanced at me and gave a crooked smile. “I have broken the rules of hospitality by conjuring a weapon at a monarch’s table. Please forgive me. I was…swept up in the lady’s attention. She is…well, distracting.”
I said nothing. My hand was still on his back, rubbing slow, steady circles, as if he were one of my younger brothers after waking from a nightmare.
Emrys noticed. He growled. “The Assembly would be proud of your…diligence.” His eyes lingered where my hand was still pressed to Owain’s back, the edge in his voice sharp enough to draw Owain’s blood if he lashed out again. “I should retire early. Another breath, and I will start a war. Tomorrow, we will talk.”
He stomped out, trailing the shadow of his curse.
I realized too late that I was still touching Owain. Luckily for me, he showed no signs of displeasure at my boldness. I hadn’t been thinking. I’d simply reacted.
I pulled my hands away. “I should retire too. Will you remain in Tir Darreth tomorrow? Perhaps we can meet again at luncheon…to discuss whatever brought you here?”
Owain straightened. “Yes, Lady Isca. I would be honored to spend another meal in your presence.” His voice dropped slightly. “And thank you for interfering. I might’ve acted myself, but…I feared it would only make him more volatile.”
“You were right,” I admitted.
He inclined his head. Best to allow Owain to think I was simply carrying out my duties by shouting at the crown prince of Darreth.
But Owain… His blackened eyes. His obscure words about his family’s magic being famous fordifferent reasons. My mind pieced together a narrative that ended with me unconvinced of his humanity. Were the legends of old true? Had I just dined with one of the Fae?
For all his charm, a voice in the back of my mind whispered that no man conjured shadows from thin air without hiding a few in his own heart.
No. That was a line of thought I had to put to rest immediately. Nothing Prince Owain had done so far, none of the emotions he’d projected, had implied deception. He’d even hinted that he could’ve counteracted Emrys’s magic but held back out of prudence.
I had to forget superstitions. Forget what I’d seen and trust my first impression of him as an honorable man.
Alone in my dark room later that night, I thought of a different set of eyes. I saw Emrys’s in my mind as I tried to sleep, wild and burning with something more complex than simple anger. I could hardly believe the thought, but could Emrys have been…jealous?
Hard on the heels of that first realization came another. The moment his interest had shifted to me, I’d felt a jolt, a tightening in my stomach that made my pulse race.
That jolt should’ve been fear. But it was heat instead. The reckless, impossible kind of heat that made me imagine what it would feel like to satisfy the Assembly’s second demand with the cursed prince.
That desire filled me with more terror than Emrys’s power ever could.
I rolled onto my side and pulled the blankets over my head, willing the fever in my chest to fade.
It didn’t mean anything. It was just the pressure. The politics.
Emrys wasn’t safe. He certainly wasn’t kind. He wasn’t someone I should want. And yet, when I closed my eyes again, it was his face that burned behind them.
I buried my face in the pillow and let out a soul-cleansing scream of frustration—at Nisien for being gone, at Emrys for being such an ass, and at my silly heart for wanting him anyway.
Gods help me.
I wanted the beast.
Chapter 22
Emrys
The air held the promise of sunnier days, temperatures climbing steadily as we approached the solstice. Inside me, though, the winter storms still hadn’t passed. I arrived at the practice yards before the sun, hoping to expend some of the furious energy that wouldn’t leave my body.
The thin layer of hay, damp and yielding underfoot, shifted around my boots as I drove the wooden training blade through the gut of the straw dummy again and again. Every strike was a beat in the rhythm of my self-loathing.
