I wanted to go on a rampage.
I wanted to build a pyre full of the bodies of traitors and set it on fire.
I would burn them all.
I would slaughter and purge and—
A cold, perfect hand wriggled its way into my clenched fist.
A shock of winter blizzarded through me, making my heart hitch.
It was instantaneous.
Her snowy presence blew straight through the madness clawing at my skull. The red haze thinned. The roar in my ears dimmed...reminding me of where I was and why I couldn’t break.
Dragging in a shaky breath, I snatched her hand so tightly she whimpered.
Even knowing I’d hurt her, I couldn’t let go. Yanking her against me with brutal force, I locked her in my arms as if she was the only thing keeping me from razing Ashfall Cliff to the ground.
Whisper growled as my arms hugged her tight enough to bruise—warning me to be gentle. Rook sucked in a breath as I buried my face into her neck—dragging her frosty, delicious scent into my lungs.
She wriggled against me, trying to find a comfortable position in my cage. Her palms landed hesitantly on my lower back, her heart hammering against mine.
I hated the distance that’d formed between us.
I hated that I couldn’tkeepmy distance.
She tied me into fucking knots and unless she helped undo them soon, I would go certifiably insane.
“You’re okay...” she whispered, stroking my back and delivering wakes of chilled relief. “I’ve got you. Just don’t blow up your home before you even step through the front door, okay?”
Smoke feathered from my shoulders, vanishing into the air as I held her, breathing her in, bathing in her coldness.
The helicopter finally took off, whipping us with wind and grit as it swooped into the valley. In the ringing silence leftbehind—standing in front of the stone dragon that’d protected my family for generations—I almost gave in.
Almost told her that I didn’t care if shewasthe reason I was burning.
As long as she never stopped touching me—as long as she never left me—then...fine.
I wouldn’t get angry.
I wouldn’t get even.
I’d just—
“You know...” Rook squirmed in my embrace. “I’ve been lucky enough to see many historical sites around the world and lived in luxury most of my life, yet that...” She successfully wriggled out of my hold and arched her chin at the stone dragon. “I can’t get over howlifelikeit looks. Its eye seems alive instead of carved from rock.”
I suspected she redirected my attention to distract me, but a lamenting musical note rang out as air played in the dragon’s flowing whiskers, dumping me into painful memories of my mother.
She’d often told me stories of Qingxiang Long—also known as Whispering Dragon.
She made the stone beast come alive with tales of it flying to the lake, bathing in the moonlight, and dining on deer before returning at dawn to protect us.
My heart folded in on itself, layers upon layers of guilt and regret and loss.
I’d spent twenty years in Cinderkeep hating my parents for taking the easy way out and leaving me to suffer in their place, but...I couldn’t stop the hottest swell of gratitude.
I thought they’d abandoned me. However, they’d also done their best to protect me. If my father hadn’t arranged the Sovereign Retrieval service and drilled me to remember thenumbers necessary to save my life, I wouldn’t be standing here now.
