“It wasmypoint. They need to be aware that the threat has grown substantially. That way, they can protect themselves.”
He chuckled and hit me with a sinister smile. “Yes, and I suppose that frees up time for you to spend with the mage.”
The mage.
Not Elariya. Not evenyourmage.
Just the mage. Like she was a thing.
My jaw tightened as I assessed him, scanning his face, looking over his imposing frame sitting in my father’s chair. I was still searching for clues. It seemed that was all I could do these days.
This bastard.
What does he know?
Is he working with the dark forces?
Does he know Elariya’s true nature and her curse?
Did he help Thayden try to kill me?
As expected, my search came up blank.
Unless one had the power to read minds or see through secrets, no one would ever be able to tell just by looking at my bastard uncle what treacherous part he was playing. Still, I would always look. I didn’t want the day to come when I missed a beat.
"She's none of your business." My tone could have cut glass.
"Isn't she?" Dreynthor's brows lifted, feigning surprise. "Forgive me, but when the heir of Galaythia turns down a marriage arrangement with a princess and takes such a...personalinterest in his half-human, half-mage apprentice, it becomes my business." He said it like the words tasted foul. “What exactly do you plan to do with her?”
It was the question of the year. Making her love me again wasn’t an answer that would suffice here.
My uncle would laugh me to scorn if he found out just how fucked I was. My mage presently didn’t even remember who I was, and I was holding on to the hope a kiss gave me.
"She's beautiful, I'll grant you that," Dreynthor continued smoothly, waving a hand as if conceding a minor point. "But beauty is fleeting and inconvenient when it clouds one's judgment."
My fingers curled against the armrest, knuckles going white.
Breathe. Don't give him what he wants.
"You look weak, Wolfe. Reckless and weak. Like a boy chasing a pretty face instead of a prince securing a kingdom. All for some little slut who spread her legs?—"
My shadows ripped away from me and tightened like ropes around his throat.
It seemed he'd forgotten our encounter the other week and needed a reminder.
Before he could blink, I shifted into Death and gazed at him with soulless, hollowed eyes.
He was no fool. He couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t ready to shit his pants. But I gave him credit for trying to act like he could remain composed enough to fight me.
"I told you. Do not fuck with me. This is my final warning.” My voice was a rasp of tortured souls and gravelly winds. “You will respect her, or I will kill you. I swear to all the Gods above and below. I. Will. End you."
I switched back to normal but let my face remain skeletal.
The door creaked open.
A maid froze in the doorway, her arms full of linens, eyes going wide as dinner plates when she saw my form.
She paled as she took in the scene—me looking like a wraith with my shadows wrapped around Dreynthor's throat, my uncle's face reddening, the fury crackling in the air like lightning about to strike.
