My dreams were full of golden eyes and phantom touches, of a voice rough with promise whispering, “We’ll see,” against my mouth.
I couldn’t believe I found anything appealing in my enemy.
The worst part of all was that I suspected he knew exactly how I was feeling.
8
TREW
The whisper of steel cutting air reached me before I heard their grunts.
I melted into the shadows near an alcove. Night rounds through the castle had become my habit over the years, a practice my father instilled in me long before I wore his crown.
Kings who sleep while enemies prowl deserve neither throne nor breath,he’d say.
Two figures fought in the dim corridor ahead. Isi. I didn’t know who the man was, but he had a knife and he appeared determined to cut her open.Isi, as I’d learned she was called, moved with lethal grace, her body flowing through combat forms I didn’t recognize, forms favoring leverage over brute strength.
Fascinating.
She caught the man’s wrist and drove her knee into his elbow. The wet pop of joint separation echoed off the stone walls.
The man shook out his arm, and the joint slid back into place.
She was violence made beautiful, death wrapped in silk and starlight. But if I had to watch him put his hands on her again, I might actually commit murder. I ground my teeth. Since sheappeared to be handling this, and I suspected she would not appreciate me intervening, I opted to watch.
A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth, and as the fight continued, I leaned against the wall. It was a rare pleasure to watch a skill like hers unfold.
She fought like someone who’d been instructed by a master. Each movement was economical, each counter perfectly timed. When the assassin caught her throat chain, I tensed, ready to spring forward. My hand was already on my blade, magic coiling beneath my skin. The thought of him choking the life from her made something savage and territorial tear through me.
Touch her and die.
The urge to rip him apart with my bare hands was so strong I actually took a step forward before she broke free on her own.
She doesn’t need saving,I reminded myself.She never has.But that didn’t stop me from wanting to be the one to do it anyway.
I didn’t want to examine why watching her move like liquid death made a primal need roar to life in my chest.
She was magnificent. Lovely in the way fire was gorgeous, but equally untouchable and capable of burning down everything in her path.
Especially me.
She broke away with a tactical body twist I’d seen used by elite guards, struck him hard enough to knock him down, and landed hard on his chest, driving a blade between his ribs with a feral growl.
I slowly exhaled through my nose. Something about the efficiency of her movements made me go very, very still.
The kill was clean. Professional.
I was surprised.
She peered around before leaping across the floor, lifting the chain. Rising, she stuffed it into her pocket.
The final gurgle left the assassin’s throat. She watched him like a cornered beast—shaking, bloodied, and terrifyingly beautiful.
I meant to leave. I told myself I must leave. She wouldn’t want to see me here. But her body swayed, and horror bloomed in her eyes.
I stepped from the shadows, clapping slowly.
She spun, scrambling over to grab a knife and lift it. Glaring as if this time, she truly would gut me.
