My eyes are wide as he searches my face.
“Know what you want, Thyra. But do not make yourself vulnerable to get it.”
Words choke in my throat.
I’ve been vulnerable ever since my father died.
“Sometimes that’s what it takes.”
At my declaration, Stellen’s pale eyes narrow, becoming hard and glinting, even though his hand remains gentle around mine.
“Even if that were true,” he says, “we return to the original problem: you must not sing to these threads in front of my people.”
His argument is illogical, and his fleeting grimace tells me he knows it. The only way I’ll accidentally sing to these threads is if I’m still wearing them.
“All the more reason for me to take my armoroff.”
Take it off while it’s safe to do so and then leave it off. Even if the idea of separating from the threads physically hurts me. The silver material hasn’t left my body since a single thread attached itself to my hand and wouldn’t let go.
But right now, my concern is beyond that of my own feelings. The fact that Stellen has started arguing in circles gives me pause. He’s proven himself to be strategic. Calculated. Overly logical.
Neveremotional.
“We’re alone here,” I say. “There are only six fae within the palace walls. Who will hear me?”
“I will.”
Of course he’ll hear me. He hears me now. “And…?”
“Have you not listened to anything I’ve said?” He is suddenly furious, even though his hands remain gentle on me, his thumb now brushing the underside of my chin, working back to my earlobe, a reminder of the pleasure he can give me.
His jaw clenches and the corners of his mouth turn down, his voice near breaking as he repeats his earlier caution. “The sounds you make matter. They matter tome.”
Every breath. Every exhalation. Every soft sigh. Every deep moan…
Slowly, he releases me, his arms slipping away from me, but once again, I won’t let him go, snatching his hand, daring to say, “Yoursilencesmatter to me.”
His lips part. A quickly indrawn breath. Another pull.
Damn, it’s difficult to fight the way he draws me to him, my body swaying nearer.
The gap between us becomes painfully narrow as a new quiet falls over him.
Then he breaks it. “If I teach you, are you prepared for the consequences?”
Chapter Forty-Three
Stellen
Ishould stop her from walking this treacherous path, a path of beautiful music that can only lead to bloodshed.
But controlling her voice would be like caging her.
Ishouldcage her.
I should chain her to me like Antony chained her to him and keep her close to my side.
When I first saw her at the coastal village, her head held defiantly high, I thought that I could and would imprison her.
