Oh,gods.
With swift fingers, eyes never leaving his, she unsheathed the throwing knife and held it between their faces. Still panting. Still grinning.
“I think this belongs to me now.”
Four hells, why did everything inside his body feel like it was melting? Why couldn’t he move and act on the gods-damned heat radiating off his skin… and hers?
“Good gods.”
Serill’s voice was like being dunked in an ice bath. They were not alone in this courtyard. Gods, they were inpublic, and he was fantasizing about kissing a Veil Worshipper. How had he forgotten those very important details?
Brela let out a chuckle and rolled off of Cason, collapsing on the ground next to him. Her neck rested on his bicep, arm limp on his chest with both of them still heaving and out of breath.
Even if he could move, he didn’t want to. Not as he stared up at the clouds and realized that, for the first time in a long time, he didn’t need to count anything to keep his power controlled.
Farrah’s laughter rang through the air. “Pay up, Boelyn. You should never bet against a woman.”
25
Let it Burn
How was it possible to still have so much energy? The day had been impossibly long, and Brela had barely slept the night before, yet she still found herself restless. She had to move.
She’d spent most of the day contemplating the consequences of murdering the King of Severina. He was trying to pry information from her about Valisea and anything she knew about the Veil wall. Every time he called her a shadow-cultist or criticized her people, she dove into the dark depths of her inner fortress for solitude. Fantasized about the feel of his skin ripping under her fingers as she clawed his throat open. Imagined chaining him to one of the spires and leaving him to hang off the castle for days, like Dernian had once done to her.
She always emerged, though, giving the king a snap response before sharing barely enough information to satisfy his question. He couldn’t be trusted with these secrets, not with how clever he was, so she played a different kind of game. Towns moved locations or were claimed as destroyed. Reports of Veil Worshipper uprisings were shifted. All of the things she knew, she conveniently forgot to mention.
It was necessary to protect her home. Whether the King of Severina had participated in the raids or slaughter of her people before, the things Brela knew about Valisea could bring the already destroyed kingdom into oblivion. She couldn’t be sure the king wouldn’t turn around and sell this information to Remont. Or Rooke. Or Anfroy.
If Cason knew she was lying and feeding them false details, he didn’t let on. He’d avoided looking at her all day, even as they’d sat across from each other at meals. In fact, he had avoided her since their sparring match that morning. Since they had both drained every ounce of energy in their bones and nearly blacked out from exertion.
Gods.
That was the real reason she was restless.
She’d felt the heat, seen his eyes lock on her lips as she pinned him, and felt the tension ripple through his body—the tightening of him under her hips—as she very deliberately reached for the knife in his belt.Herknife.
But Brela had just stared at him, barely able to rein in her shaking. Completely unable to stop smiling at how gods-damned good it felt to be on top of his body and feel his skin under her grip. Every muscle screamed at her to lean down, allow his bare chest to press against her, taste those lips that seemed to tremble with each breath he took.
Thank the gods she had some shred of awareness that their friends were watching them. Or that caving to her urges—theirurges, considering the heat they both radiated in that moment—would mean exposing the captain in front of anyone else who might be watching. The guard. The king. She wouldn’t do that to him. It was one thing to help your enemy in private—throwing the knife wide, recharging magic rings—but kissing the captain of the prince’s guard in public would cost him everything. He already had enough trouble being judged for his fire, he didn’t need to be branded a traitor and lose the trust he’d built here.
All Brela had to deal with was her own guilt for those desires. It’s not like her people were still around to shame her.
At least her friends didn’t judge her for staring at the sun. The gorgeous and brilliantly inked dragon. His chiseled jaw and mesmerizing blue eyes and the gods-damned muscles over every inch of his body that made her fingers itch to trace and…
She shook out her body. Farrah’s ice bath that evening was needed for more than just Brela’s soreness.
That restlessness had crept back in once the castle had gone silent, so Brela found herself returning to Serill’s library. Not to re-read that children’s story, which she kept a good distance away from. Gods, she had forgotten how horrifying that tale had been, made worse by now knowing what a real celvusa looked like. Those rough sketches of the creature had been terrifying as a child, but they did not compare to the real shadow wolf. Even with her own drawing skills, she’d never be able to capture living smoke and flame in a picture.
This time, she picked up the book on shadow magic; the only one Serill had in his possession. It shocked her that he had bid on the book… for her. Then he’d made the general comment about her not being able to use it beyond reading.
Oh, if only he knew.
She’d barely been able to hide her excitement, and had been itching to study it more than through casual glances with Serill watching over her shoulder. Now she was alone. Now she could fulfill the promise she made to that gods-damned celvusa and to herself. She needed to learn to protect Night Carver and herself, especially if she was being forced to return to Valisea.
There was too much to read before they left the day after tomorrow, but she could find a few new tricks. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use them, especially because of what it would do to her eyes. She’d already had her Veil Worshipper status revealed. Her status as the Veil Scholar was luckily still a secret between Serill and Cason, but the minute her eyes turned purple, Cason would follow through with his kill order from the king.
Brela studied the pages anyway, mimicking the hand movements without tugging on her thread of shadow magic.
