I shake my head. “You won’t, and you know that. The people of Sylvantia, the Priests especially, are your secret weapon. We can fight, and our powers don’t stem from magic like the Godforged. We will fight beside you. I’ve already talked to Rhaskar. You can trust me, Azric Cyrus. I’m not as strong as you, but I’m not a soldier either. I don’t just follow orders, and I’m willing to die for the causes I stand behind, which happen to be the same ones you hold so dear.”
For a long moment, he’s quiet. His body is immovable like a statue with the most beautiful eyes. Then the world explodes with movement. His hand goes to my throat just as it did once before.This time, it doesn’t squeeze. This time, there are no shadows holding me in place. It’s not brutal violence in his eyes as he leans down and presses his crimson lips to mine.
It’s warmth. It’s passion. Those lips I’ve dreamt of so many times are hard and unyielding as they crush mine. His chest, which feels more like stone than flesh, presses against mine. Still, I hold my hand against his cheek as lightly as ever.
I get lost in the kiss and forget we’re at the seat of Nyxthos’s power. I forget that in a week I’ll be fighting for my life against the very people I considered friends this morning. There is no war, no gods. The very things that have forced us together time and again seem to mean so little.
And yet, thoughts of Darian still linger. I remember the weight he carried, the exhaustion that he hid so well behind a smile.
Azric’s nails press against my skin but only hard enough to remind me they’re there. My hand runs through his raven hair, and he pulls back from the kiss just enough that his breath whispers over my lips.
I see the vulnerability in his eyes. Of all the people in Nyth he could be vulnerable with while he mourned his uncle, he chose me—a human he met only months ago. Yet, I’m no different. I was taught the Prince of Bones was the most dangerous person on Nyth, but he’s the only one I want to be near right now.
“Why do I crave you so? What is it about you that makes me forget the pain?” he says with a rumble in his voice.
“I’m no one,” I whisper back while I stare into those burning orange eyes. My lips linger an inch from his. Shadows whisperover my body as they did the first time he wrapped his seduction magic around me. They weave their way under my cloak, under my armor, and even under the linen wrap to kiss my bare skin. Across my hips, up my inner thigh, down my breasts.
His hand releases my neck, and he steps back. “You make me forget who I am. I can’t do this.” There’s fear in his eyes now where flames had blazed only moments ago. Yet, the shadows don’t release me from their ethereal touch.
“No,” I say with as much strength as I can muster while he teases my body. I step toward him, and this time, it’s him that tries to step back. I don’t let him. My hand reaches for his neck, but instead of wrapping around it as he had, it slides past and grips the raven hair. I pull him down, and it’s my lips that crush his. It’s my passion that forces him to give in to me. It’s my chest that presses against his.
Azric falls into my kiss just as much as I’d done to his. My lips move to his neck as my other hand unties the knot holding my cloak on me. It falls to the ground at my feet. His hands grip my waist with the lightest touch he’s ever shown me. The shadows that had teased me before become more insistent, more physical, more demanding.
They find the bootlace I’d sewn my tunic together with during the second trial, and they slowly untie it. I pull back to breathe for a moment, and I wonder if he’ll pull away from me again.
Instead, we fall into the shadows at our feet, and I find myself floating in the nothingness of the Void.
Chapter 46
I look at him and see myself too often. What would I have been like had I been born with his destiny? Already, at sixteen, he feels the weight of his future on his shoulders, and I remind him to smile more, to laugh more. Soon enough, he’ll be forced to accept that weight. But, as sixteen-year-olds are so wont to do, he ignores me. He blames both of us for the war raging beyond Draenyth, and he’s not wrong. I only hope that he doesn’t let that blame turn to hate as he ages.
~Cole Cyrus, personal journals
Fiona
Even in the overwhelming darkness, I still feel his heat, still feel those shadows begging me to do so much more than kiss Azric. He whispers to me, “We shouldn’t do this. We can’t.”
“We can and we should,” I whisper back. I should be afraid of the Void. I should be worried about that eternal darkness pressingagainst me. But right now, not even never-ending nothingness can penetrate this bubble of perfection we’re in.
I feel his nails scrape against my cheek as they have so many times in the past, but this time, I lean into them. Then we’re out of the Void and lying on his bed in his chambers. I’m on top of him, and the first thing I do is pull my shirt off to reveal my armor and wrap.
I straddle his body and move to untie the leather plates. Azric’s eyes never leave my body, but he doesn’t reach for me, and suddenly, the shadows disappear. His eyes harden, and the vulnerability which had been there fades along with the shadows.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he says ominously. “You and I cannot do this. This is the first step toward becoming someone who’d let the world die just to save one person.”
I frown as the armor comes loose. My movements slow as I pull the armor off me and drop it on the side of the bed. “What do you mean?” I ask.
“My mother sacrificed the world to bring my father back from the dead. My mother sacrificed how many lives? She tradedmefor him. Fiona, I cannot become my mother.”
I stare down at the man I’d been so desperate for only moments ago. “You will never be your mother,” I say without a shred of doubt.
His hand moves to my throat, not to grab it, but to let his nails run over my skin, and those nails trail down my wrap, moving between my breasts to my stomach. They slide under the waistband of my pants, and a thrill runs through my body, but they stop inches away from what I want.
“Really? I’ll hold the fate of all of Nyth and the gods in my hands. That was the prophecy Saelira gave when I was presented to them as a newborn. It will be me who decides the fate of everyone. What if I give in to the feelings inside me, and there comes a time where I must choose between you and the rest of the world? Which will I pick? No, I cannot let myself give in to those desires, Fiona. This is the first step. If we move beyond this…”
I stare into his eyes, understanding his reasons, and instead of getting off him, I slowly untie my wrap. I don’t look away as I drop the linen onto the ground beside my armor. Then I undo the buttons of his black and crimson riding coat one at a time until I pull it open. I press my hands against the silk of his waistcoat.
“You are not a fucking monster, Azric,” I finally say. “You’ve seen terrible things. You’ve made decisions that hurt you. I can see them reflected in your eyes. I know if the time came, and it was my life against everyone else’s, you’d choose them. If you didn’t, you’d lose me regardless because I couldn’t care for someone who’d make that choice. You aren’t your mother because she was selfish in a way that puts the gods to shame, while you’re the most selfless man I’ve ever known.”
