Every inch of earthen skin drew me in like moth to flame.
This was definitelynotKing Tazzias.
Which meant...
“King Tovares?”
My voice was no more than breath as I lifted my eyes back to his. The king slipped both hands into his pockets, which made the hem of his slacks slip. My gaze snagged on the strip of skin newly exposed, that left my stomach in greedy little knots thatwanted to see more. My nostrils flared. Observing my reaction, his eyes danced as his lips curled into a small, sinful smile.
“Wrong twin, Phantimèssa.”
I blinked.
Twin?
When in the rot did the Everthorns have another child? Papi said they had one son who shamed the entire island by reneging his claim to the throne, leaving Mortevain without an heir to rule. My throat went dry.
I opened my mouth to speak and found myself at a loss for words. The king waited patiently, his gaze looking more and more like jewels burning in a fiery furnace. The telltale signs of a Mortent Rank angel whose emotions had stirred their powers from within.
I opened my mouth and tried again.
“Twin.”
The king’s grin stretched. As if he could plainly read my thoughts. Plainly see the wrestling within my mind as multiple truths about Mortevain Island and her history went up in smoke.
My hearts stuttered. The male was magnanimously monstrousandhandsome.
A combination my stupid hearts would never survive.
Suddenly the itch to leave so quickly was fading into something else.
Something foolish.
Something dangerous.
“I see your Edenael Presbitari’s did their jobs well.” He tilted his head, that reckless mouth of his still curved in a wolfish grin. “Professors revising the history of angels who were betrayed, invaded. Some captured, most slain.” His eyes flashed. “And to brush away the truth of the son who was taken, and the son forced to run away. Positively brilliant, if you ask me. Really, mi Phantom. Whatdothey teach you over there?”
I felt like my brain was breaking with every second I spent inside this manor. Never in my life would I have guessed I’d end up at the mercy of an Everthorn.
All of this was strange.
I narrowly avoided the dungeons of the Ivory Rain... thanks to a gargoyle. I’d laid eyes on a Nanmiess... only to discover the species wasnotborn of the Six Hèls. Now here I was, floating in this antechamber, in casual conversation... with an Everthorn King.
A king who’d just called mehisphantom.
A delicious heat unfurled in my gut.
I almost started giggling like a bumbling idiot.
Too much. This was all too much for one dawn.
“Phantimèssa.”The eerie voice from earlier returned. My back stiffened. The winged tips of my ears twitched as I jerked away from the king, looking around for the source of the voice. Burning stars. I felt as if my mind were unraveling.“Stay. We need your song.”A blood-curdling chuckle.“We need your blood.”
I shivered at the request. I fought to maintain my cool. If I were losing my mind, the Everthorn King would be the last angel alive to learn about it. I thought back to his question and jutted out my chin.
“We are taught enough.” I waved a hand, gesturing to the open foyer. “One son was born. Renounced his claim to the throne. Betrayed his island, his angels, by running off with the Fallen and dooming them all.”
I lifted my nose in defiance. Subtly, I scooted to the right, angling my body towards the doors. The Everthorn King was no fool. He caught the motion and slid over too, effectively blocking my path to the doors.
