“But.” Taken aback, she reached up to feel the owl’s smooth feathers against her fingers. Something about his soft touch grounded her. “Why me?”
He huffed, his jaw clenching.
“It’s because I have magic, isn’t it?” she asked. “Unlike all the other fae. Despite the Fall, I still have some.”
He laughed. “Ha. You and your bloody magic. That ice you conjured is nothing compared to the powers of the Fomorians.”
“And yet you are afraid enough of it to trap me here,” she pointed out, narrowing her eyes as she stalked toward him. “Admit it. There’s something you need from me, and it has something to do with my powers.”
Lir lifted his hand. Ice flickered across his skin, forming a ball in his open palm. He tossed it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand tiny shards. “Your magic is nothing I haven’t seen or cannot do myself.”
Eislyn pressed her lips together, her heart trembling. “But there’s a reason. There must be. And it has something to do with the Ruin or you wouldn’t toss books into fires to stop me from reading about it!”
He arched a brow. “TheRuin?”
“That’s what we call it,” she said with exasperation. “The Dionadair. We’ve always called it the Ruin because it destroys everything it touches. It kills everyone who comes into contact with it—”
“I know what it does,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen the Dionadair with my own two eyes.”
She stood a little straighter. This was the most she’d been able to get out of him so far, though it wasn’t much. “You have? When?”
His eyes darkened. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” She threw up her hands.
“Because I cannot speak about it with you.”
“Butwhy?” She almost cried the word. Her desperation was so fierce that it almost brought her to her knees. She’d come all this way for one reason and one reason only. To find a way to stop the Ruin. She’d gotten trapped. She’d been wed against her will, and she was surrounded by enemies every hour of the day and night. And now she was being told she couldn’t even read about it.
“It’s not like you’ll ever let me go.” She took a step closer to him. “Who am I ever going to tell? You’ve bound me here. I’m stuck inside this palace. The only way I can leave is with you.”
“I’ve already explained this to you,” he murmured. “I am not worried about anyone else knowing about it. It’s you, Eislyn. You’re the infuriating problem in all of this. And no, I cannot tell you why. Now, stop arguing with me. It’s no use. You’ll be staying in my quarters from now on.”
* * *
The Emperor’s quarters made a king’s rooms look like a chamber built for servants. It stretched across the entire floor on the top of the tallest tower, eight rooms in total. When he’d first ordered her to move her things into his quarters, she’d pictured being cramped up with him with nowhere to escape. She’d be forced to see him day and night. He’d never let her be alone.
“You’ll sleep in here,” he said, leading her to a room adjacent to his. A four-poster bed squatted beneath a flowing tapestry of golden silks. There were two small windows overlooking the city, neither big enough for anything larger than her owl to fit through. A small sofa sat beside a hearth, and several shelves held herbs, candles, and trinkets.
“It seems fine.” It was a bit of an understatement. The room was luxurious and spacious, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.
“I’ll personally deliver you anything you need, and your owl is free to hunt whenever he needs food.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you had better things to do than bother with me.”
“I do,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “But as I said, you cannot be trusted. So, I’ll have to take care of everything myself. You’ll stay in here and mind your business. If you try anything, I’ll bend you over my knee and spank the living daylights out of you.”
Eislyn flushed, taking a step back. Her heartbeat cantered in her chest. “You wouldn’t.”
He grinned. “Try me.”
“I’m not some toy,” she said, her voice rising. “You can’t just treat me like one.”
“I can and I will.” With that, Lir stormed out of the room and slammed the door on her face. She glared at the wood, her fingers curving into claws. She wanted to rip the door to shreds and stick him with one of the shards. His blood would make the most beautiful paint in the world.
* * *
Eislyn awoke with a start, her hair plastered to her face, her heartbeat trembling like hummingbird wings. She’d had another one of her dreams. Of ash, of death, of an impenetrable darkness that swallowed her whole. Terror ripped through her, her pain raw, the wound fresh and festering. Her mother’s face flashed in her mind, transforming her to a time she’d tried so hard to scrub from her memories.
