Page 181 of Black Sea

Again.

Why wasn’t I doing the right thing? Why didn’t I want to?

What was wrong with me?

Nauriel.

Sitting on the bed’s edge with my feet on the bench and knees to my chest, I futilely covered my ears in an attempt to shut out the voice of Amlach’s darkness from my thoughts.

I felt like I was falling, falling, falling.

The abyss was swallowing me, and I didn’t want to return to the light.

I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to, I didn’t want to.

I wanted my mate.

Unable to resist seeing him any longer, I hurriedly left my wing of the palace. I followed a pathway into the forest, where lanterns hung on logs here and there, lighting the carved steps into the ground and small bridges over the streams.

The guards at the prison entrance did not bar my way with their pikes or protest in any manner as I passed between them like lightning.

However, I stopped short at the bottom of the narrow stairs.

Standing before the threshold of Amlach’s cell, now dimly lit by a candle, Araton gave me a look that was more than stern. Yet, there was also a trace of compassion. “Go back home, Sister,” he told me.

“Get out of my way, Brother,” I replied in a lethal tone.

He placed one hand on the hilt of the dagger in the sheath on his right side. “Don’t make me do this.”

My eyes flicked to Amlach, who smirked.

My brother and I moved simultaneously. We faced each other in flowing, graceful motions, but my smaller size gave me an advantage in that tight space. Within moments, dodging his strikes with serpentine agility, I managed to grab his dagger and, pressing one hand on his chest, pushed him against the wet wall so violently it left him shocked.

I could hold the dagger to his throat.

I wanted to.

I wanted to make him understand once and for all that nothing could ever keep me away from my mate.

Nauriel.

The hand I used to brandish the weapon shook with a tremor that brought me back to my senses. A tremor that made me realize I had almost threatened to harm my own blood.

Concealing the deep uneasiness this caused me, I cast a grave look at Araton and threw his dagger away, removing my hand from his chest. Still glaring at me with hostility, he brushed back the long brown hair that had fallen over his face and snorted through his nose, showing he had no intention of trying to stop me again.

I turned my back on him and stepped into the cell, my heart racing.

With his back and head against the wall, elbows resting on his thighs, and his shackled hands dangling between his spread legs, Amlach watched me with a look of pure provocation.

He was daring me to tell my brother the truth.

To once again play the role of the warrior princess and try to save everyone.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

I was no hero. Never had been.

I was the real abomination.