Looking down, I studied the carved lines he’d dragged into the dirt with the tip of the arrow. Familiar patterns and shapes. Though none of them meant much to me.
“Why are you even here?” I couldn’t help myself; the questions gnawed at me hopelessly. “Why help us?”
He didn’t answer right away, just stared at the world below, shoulders rising and falling like he’d been carrying the same question too long.
When he finally spoke, it was a low murmur, barely making it past his lips. “Call it...self-preservation.”
Somewhere above, an owl called low as Ronan pushed to his feet, dusting the dirt from his palms. Leaving the arrowhead on the ground, he strode toward me, closing the space between us one measured move at a time.
When he was finally only a few steps away, he said, “Your curse doesn’t scare me, you know.”
There was that molten, predatory murmur.
My eyes tore from where they leveled on his exposed chest when the harsh winter bite was suddenly nowhere to be felt. “Am I supposed to be insulted?”
He snickered. “Relieved, maybe.” Another step closer. “You’re surrounded by those who know you well enough not to fear you. And now, strong enough to kill you if needed.”
My gaze rolled high, hands flying up in feigned terror. “Oh, so daunting,” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well—” I jabbed a finger into his stoned chest. “I’m not scared ofyoueither.”
Another pace closer, his face an inch from mine. My fists itched at the urge to punch him in the throat.
“Of course you’re not,” he muttered, slanting his head to the side. “A warning though, Viper.”
Canines flashed, cinnamon heat imprinting between us. I inhaled, but not too deeply.
“I may not hold grudges, but I remember everything. That was strike two. You attack me again, unprovoked, and that monster inside your head won’t be the deadliest thing tearing you apart.”
The flush on my face betrayed me, but I leaned in anyway, fingers brushing the gold chain at his neck. The links were rough, like they’ve been forged to cut as much as bind. He didn’t waver at the touch.
“Unlike you,” I whispered. “Idohold grudges. And like you, I do not forget.”
His nostrils flared as I tucked the chain back beneath his shirt, patting the hard pane of his chest. The golden flecks in his eyes sparkled, and for a moment I was drowning.
“You took something from me,” I reminded him. “And I am owed. So—” My tongue clicked against my teeth. “That won’t be the last time I throw a dagger at your face. Stay wary, prince.”
I stepped away, forcing my eyes off him, off the way my body didn’t feel repulsed by his closeness, but too drawn.
“Oh—” I yelled back over my shoulder. “And tell Elysian to change shifts every once and awhile. The owl’s becoming obvious.”
His laughter followed me, sultry and rich, and I almost let myself drown in that too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Ronan
THREE DAYS OF FORD’S ENDLESS CHATTER and Ronan had reminded himself far too many times that toasting someone for sheer irritation wasn’t worth the fallout.
Until now, when his questions were beginning to make the idea very tempting.
“Not to sound like a mimic,” Ford propped forward, elbows resting across his knees while losing a battle to a strip of jerky, “but why can’t we just sift to Nyctom’s borders? It’ll save us all an excruciating trip.” He gestured with the unbitten meat at Callum. “Don’t you think?”
Callum sighed, rubbing his forehead. “For the fifth time—”
“Sixth,” Ronan muttered.
“The Dark Kingdom has wards up,” Callum spun a finger in the air, the flames from the firepit whooshing to dust. “Those wards don’t allow anyone to sift in.” He made a vaguedo you get it nowmotion. “Have you ever even seen a mimic, Ford?”
“How would I know?” The jerky was halfway to his mouth when he answered.
