He rounds me like a lion, on slow and silent steps. Each stride a sure testament to the male’s restraint. His breath comes out in a puff of icy mist, as bright veins of blue reveal themselves on every inch of his exposed skin.
The truth then, all of it. For there is no question in my mind that I will not leave this room alive if I cannot make him believe me.
The truth spills from my lips in a torrent. That I was raised Drakai, of the day I received my mission from the La’tari king, of my intentions to end the life of his own. He lunges at me, fangs bared, and I fall to my knees, raising my hands over my head, palms up in supplication just as Ishara had done with the general.
He stands over me, a low rumble in the back of his throat. I swallow hard, keeping my eyes nailed to the vein of gold beneath me. Dropping a hand in front of my face, he spins the small flower from my hair between his fingers.
“Brazen,” the low vibrato of his tone is near a growl, “to cover yourself in shadowbane, strap those blades to your form, and meet with a male you’ve been sent to end, all while claiming innocence.”
A quick glance and I find the high slits of my gown have fallen,revealing the feynstone blades. It’s a mistake, one I will surely regret for the rest of my life. The shimmering panels of the dress drape between my thighs, pooling on the marble beneath me.
“I swear, I only brought them to defend myself if the Vatruke came,” I say.
“That was wise.” A female’s silken voice caresses my ears and the flesh on my arms prickles.
Risking a glance up, I find Toren’s body rigid, facing a tall silhouette as she glides into the low light.
“Useless, but wise.” She smiles.
“Vos,” Toren says in a low warning. The air is driven from my lungs when the name finally finds meaning within my scattered mind.
Her lithe frame sways as she walks, the long black of her dress melding with the shadows, her dark hair glinting as it’s pushed over her shoulders on a gust of wind coming off the northern ranges.
“Toren,” she says in greeting. “Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help but overhear.”
She clicks her tongue at me when I risk rising to my feet by Toren’s side. Sliding the blades into my hands, I conceal them from her view, resting them against the back of my forearms.
“Leave, Vos. I will only ask you once,” Toren threatens, and I can’t help but wonder if his gift is enough to match the power of her own.
I think not when she laughs. Waving her hand at the male dismissively, she says, “Give me the girl and I will. She is the only reason I came here tonight.”
My stomach pits with dread when she offers Toren a simple solution to his problem. Give up the Drakai. A life already hanging at the precipice of his mercy—my life—as an offering to his enemy. One that will appease her, if only for tonight.
“I cannot,” he says plainly, startling me when he places himself between us.
“Really?” she purrs, “In that case, I’m sure you will understand.”
With the flick of her wrist, Toren grunts and in the next moment the male is careening through the air. He stops when he collides with thethick stone wall of the keep, a sickening crack resounding through the night before he lands upon the ground in a crumpled mass.
She tips her head to the side as she observes me.
“I thought your death would make me feel better,” she admits, “But you are nothing, and even I will have forgotten your face in the span of a few short years.”
I will my feet to remain beneath me as she steps toward me.
“I would like to make this last longer,” she says, “to take my time with you. I would enjoy watching you suffer as I have, but vengeance is vengeance, and Iwillhave mine.”
She waves her hand toward me, and I can’t help the coiled tension of my body when I flinch, my eyes remaining fixed on the female. If I am to die, I will not let her see the fear that bleeds within me, staining the very essence of my being. Ice snakes up my spine, even as my veins ignite as if they will be set ablaze and the air is driven from my lungs. The female frowns, lowering her hand to her side, and my demon unfurls within me.
A wicked smile takes over her features, the look on her face truly pleased when she says, “Shivay lathrek, Valtoura.”
She chances another graceful step in my direction. I move to the side, unwilling to turn my back to the female. I work my way toward a larger clearing amidst the vegetation, where I can more easily defend myself if it comes to blows.
“I thought I might have to burn down every forest in Brax to find you,” she says gleefully, “And all the while, Xeyvian hid you here. Clever.”
Her words have no meaning. Every thought that exists within me, homed in on one simple task. Survive. I round the courtyard defensively, searching for an exit, for any way to escape the certainty of my future if I end up within her reach.
“Had I not sought you out after you killed my mate, I might have overlooked you in this form,” she says, “A mistake I won’t make again.”
