The moment he stepped through the door of his dwelling, his electric-blue eyes found mine from across the room, where I was seated in the lounge. My fingers were twisting against the frayededge of the rug. The tension was palpable, zapping electricity over my skin, especially when he never took his eyes off me.
We hadn’t been alone since the night in Ny’am. Seeing him again was jarring, especially when I remembered the way our magic had intertwined. How it hadbloomed.
My nostrils flared, met by his cool glare. The iciness on his expression should’ve been a warning. But I still opened my mouth and asked, “Am I your prisoner now too? You can keep me locked away like Ryak? Like your own personal Dakkari pet?”
The silence was so thick and heavy in the aftermath of the question.
“Be careful,mariss,” came his voice, oddly soft. But no less terrifying, coupled with his piercing glare. “Do not push me right now. You won’t like how it ends.”
Dismissive. The words only stoked my ire.
I stood, drawing myself up to my full height before I started to stalk toward the door. I was over this. I felt trapped. This entire exchange, me coming to the Arsadia at all, had been a disaster.
“If it ends with me leaving this place, then I’ll take my chances,” I couldn’t help but snip. “I shouldn’t even be here. It was all a mistake.”
Alaryk’s hand flashed out to grip my arm before I could move past. “You don’t get to decide that,” he hissed, pressing my back against the front door he’d just come in from. “You think it’s a mistake? You couldn’t be more wrong.”
My temper burned. If it wasn’t so overwhelming, I might’ve given a second thought to the consequences of inciting aKarath’s wrath.
“I’m done, Alaryk.Done,” I said, struggling against his grip, but he kept me in place with the whole front of his body, pressing me back until I couldn’t move. My emotions were a frayed, frazzled mess. A combination of anger, punishing irritation, loneliness, guilt,embarrassment. “I want to go home.”
“Oh, you’re like a petulant child,” Alaryk bit out, those blueeyes sparking dangerously. I stiffened, my defensiveness rising. “Selfish, you know that? I just spent the entire day negotiating to keep you here after what you announced today, in front of everyone. If my horde had any say, you’d be on an Elthika heading back to Dakkar as we speak.”
“Good,” I hissed, struggling against him, tears beginning to push into my eyes, burning and hot. “Let me go, then. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
Deep down, I knew I didn’t mean it. I didn’t truly want to leave the hatchery, all the hatchlings, Syris, Tarkosh, Samryn…Alaryk. But I was at that point where I didn’t care. Where the burn of his own responding anger might even feel good. I wanted the fight. I wanted his ire. Because it was what I deserved. At least I thought so.
“Let me go!” I cried out, tears dripping down my cheeks even though I was glaring at him. “What was it all for anyway? I fucked everything up! Someone isdead, and I made it even worse. You should want me gone.”
In front of all of Grymia, I’d finally revealed the truth, one I’d kept locked away for so long, been taught to fear. I’d finally stopped being afraid, for a mere moment, thinking it would bring me some relief from the guilt. But in the end, the truth had made me all the more fearful. It had made everything worse. Just as I’d known it might.
“Amaia,” came Alaryk’s growl. His big hands were gripping just below my shoulders, his thigh pressed between my own to keep me in place. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Youdon’tget to decide that,” I disagreed.
He leveled me a look, part arrogance, part rage. His hand tipped my chin up, his thumb firm just below my jaw.
“Watch what I’ll do to keep you here,” he purred, but it was tinged in warning.
A threat.
The spark of my own fury surprised me. I felt a surge of myheartstone magic, because I felt trapped, because I felt hopeless, and it was the only thing I could think to do to react.
If I surprised Alaryk, if he sensed the tendril of magic weaving across his skin, it was only momentary.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” he growled, his eyes flashing blue. “Enough—before I make you regret it.”
My magic wasn’t a weapon. Not like his. He knew it. I knew it. But in Ny’am, Ihadgotten control of him, hadn’t I? He’d beenwanting. I’d felt him. And when I’d cut the tendrils, he’d felt it, aching and deep. He’d underestimated me. If that was the only way I could control him, could get the upper hand, if only for mere moments to prove a point, I’d do it.
Especially now. With tears pushing into my eyes, as frustration and hot anger and an aching, bone-deep sadness coursed through me…what did I have to lose?
My magic grew, uncontrollable, fed by the wild tangle of my emotions. They were beginning to scare me. Everything I’d held bottled up—the disappointed feeling of betrayal by my brother, the fear I’d had ever since Ryak’s threats, the worry that I’d be in danger if my secrets ever surfaced, my inability to be alone—came bubbling to the surface.
“Amaia,” Alaryk growled, his eyes flickering. In concern? Could he feel it? “Stop.”
But it was like a boulder rolling down a steep hill. I didn’t know if I could stop it. The heartstone magic was too strong inside me, it felt like it was flooding and seeping into every part of me, beating at my very bones, trying to break free, trying to escape. But I couldn’t let it loose. It was trapped and growing. Growing so fast—toofast.
“Alaryk,” I choked out.
