“She is controllable, and I do not trust any of the Undying to obey me if they gained his title. The other champions and their Godforged resist my control.”
“Why do you believe she’s different?”
“She’s human, and she’s tasted my kiss.”
“And you believe you can gain control of his Mages through this human?”
“Without question.”
“This pleases me, Prince.”
~Conversations between Lysara and the Prince of Bones
Fiona
His hands run over my cheeks, and they’re warmer than I’d ever imagined. His eyes burn with heat rather than the cold indifference he’s shown me so many times before. He is everything, and his touch sends me soaring like nothing ever has before.
I have never needed anything as much as his touch. Everything that’s happened before matters so little compared to it.
He presses his lips to mine again. Hard and unyielding, they force me to submit to them. His nails dig into my bare hips as he pulls me closer. I look into his burning orange eyes, and I know I am his. I will do whatever he wants so I never have to go without him.
His lips leave mine for a moment, and I push forward, trying to find them again. But they’re gone, and then I feel his breath against my ear.
“Live, little Priestess. Live, and I may let you taste my kiss again.”
I wake up on the floor of a room I’ve never seen before. My entire body aches, especially the back of my head.
“She’s awake,” Rhion’s voice says from somewhere behind me. I try to sit up, but my head feels like it’s underwater. My eyes only open a little, but the light is too bright. My arms don’t want to work, but then I feel strong hands run under me.
I know those hands. Darian. He lifts me like a child and gently places me into a soft bed. “That’s what happens when you run off all alone,” a male voice says.
“The lass’s lucky she’s not dead,” a similar voice responds. I try to turn toward the sound, but I can’t quite manage it.
“Don’t move,” Darian whispers in my ear. “I don’t know what happened, but you nearly died. Someone… someone from Averna used the touch of death on you. But you’re still breathing.”
“Azric,” I breathe. “He was choking me.” My throat is so dry it feels like I swallowed a bucket of ash.
And he kissed me. Gods, what a kiss. It was like realizing that living was more than drawing breath. I’d been willing to embrace death just to linger in that kiss another moment.
“Why would he use that on you and then let you live, Fi?”
He wanted to show me he was in charge. That’s the whole point of this. He wants me to win so I can end the war, but he wants me to do it his way. Gods, how many Priests have I known who expect to control me just because I’m a woman? Normally, I’d put him in his place like I’d have done with them, but he’s… he’s the Prince of Bones. He’s stronger than I am in every way. I do my best to open my eyes wide enough to make out the room, but it keeps moving as if I tried to outdrink a fish. “How’d I get here?”
I still feel his lips on mine. The rest of my body aches, but my lips… my lips long for his.
Darian says, “We don’t know. You were here when we showed up.” He pulls a note from his pocket and shows it to me. “This was pinned to your chest, and it said not to move you until you woke up. You were completely gray, Fi. You should have been dead, but you weren’t, so… we didn’t move you. Even now, you barely have any color on you.”
I wonder if my lips are gray. I can’t believe his kiss could do anything other than give life.
I take a deep breath and push myself up against the wall to see the room. The spinning is slowing down, and I can make out who’s here.
Darian is at my side, and Rhion is on the other side of the room, sitting on a stool that looks like it will break at any moment. This is a much larger version of the room I stayed in the first night in Castle Lachlan, when Azric sealed the room with stone.
I’d been ready to die to continue kissing Azric. He woke me up. He told me to live so I could kiss him again, and that’s the only reason I came back. Even now, if he walked into this room, I’d throw myself at him.
Ainslee’s gone, and in her place are five people. Two Stormbringers, a Rider, a Lost One, and an Undying. The Stormbringers are tall and thin, both of them with blonde hair and hard lines. Their skin has a slightly blue tint, and it looks like they shave not only their beards, but everything other than the hair on the tops of their heads. If they’d been humans, I’d have thought they were dancers with how thin yet muscular they are. Instead, I know them to be hardened warriors who excel at slipping around a battlefield and sending bolts of electricity through their enemies.
Rhion pushes off the stool and stands up. “These two are Erik and Rurik Halden, some of the best Stormbringers in Marek’s army. They’re Brandor Halden’s sons, princes once upon a time. Now, they’re the ones who make Sidon nervous when we do anything near the Kingdom of Thalovar.”
