No one's that stupid.
As he carries me into the shadowed corridor beyond the arena, his arms solid and unyielding around me, I make myself one promise:
Survive the night.
Everything else can wait until morning.
If there is a morning.
THE OATH
Vorak's POV
I didn't come herefor her.
That's what I tell myself as I carry her through the shadowed corridor, her weight almost nothing in my arms. I came because the crown's auctions are a disease, and tonight's offering—this "witch bride" they're so eager to be rid of—won't survive an hour if one of their polished dogs claims her.
I came to stop a murder.
That's all.
Her scent drifts up again—soft and herbal, like meadow grass after rain—and my jaw clenches hard enough that bone grinds against bone.
Liar.
The curse stirs beneath my skin, purring its approval.
I ignore it. I've had years of practice.
"Lord Vorak."
The Auction Mistress appears at my elbow like a summoned spirit, all silk and ceremony and the kind of smile that's meant to soothe dangerous animals. "If you'll follow me to complete the contract—"
"Now." The word comes out rougher than I intend, edged in the growl I can't quite suppress after violence. The girl in my arms flinches.
I loosen my grip. Fractionally.
The Mistress's smile thins to something more genuine: irritation, barely masked. "Of course, my lord. This way."
She leads us deeper into the amphitheater's underbelly, through passages that reek of old magic and older blood. Torches gutter in their brackets, throwing shadows that twist wrong. The girl's breathing quickens.
I tighten my hold. Just slightly.
"Breathe," I murmur, low enough that only she can hear. "Nothing here will touch you."
She doesn't respond, but her rigid shoulders ease. Barely.
It's enough.
The contract chamber opens before us like a stone throat. The Pact Stone dominates the center—a massive slab of black rock carved with runes that pulse sickly red in the firelight, drinking the shadows.
I hate this room.
I hate everything it represents.
The crown's leash. Their control. Their pretty lie that we'repartnersin this "compact" when really we're just monsters on chains, useful for guarding their borders and nothing more.
"Set her down, please."
