Page 47 of Claimed By the Depths

“Nothing,” I mumbled, but the single word proved insufficient. Sighing, I tapped the side of my head with two fingers. “Ellira.”

“Telling you what you already know?” Kael hummed, his cheeky grin making its infamous appearance. “Or challenging your ego?”

“I enjoy the soon-to-be king; he is rather… wise.”

“You like anyone who agrees with you.”

“I suppose,” Ellira replied with indifference. “Though, unlike my daughter, I am not opposed to admitting when I am wrong.”

With Kael’s seafoam irises still locked on me, I pointed forward. “Walk.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line, trying but failing to swallow his laughter as he turned his back to me once more. The sound carried such genuineness that I couldn’t even be mad, because it was raw. For the first time since our interaction in the palace, he seemed at ease, even if only temporarily.

“You know it’s true when she doesn’t deny it,” Syoran piped in from behind me.

“I like him too.”

“Shut up, Kao,” I said as I bit the inside of my cheek, but not to seek comfort.

The scowl that should have painted my face did not return. Instead, the corners of my mouth curled upward at her utterance. Not because I enjoyed her incessant prodding, but because the two men with whom I had found myself scouring for artifacts belonging to ancient gods had quickly weaseled their way into my stone-cold heart.

In all my years, there was never an instance when I became fond of the presence of anyone, let alone the presence of any man. Yet Kael and Syoran had penetrated the iciest portions of my essence, and even though they had, that was not something I would allow myself to disclose. Not when care created leverage, and leverage served the utmost importance to entities such as Sorva. If she learned of my weaknesses, she would undoubtedly use them to her advantage, and that was a sacrifice I was not willing to make.

I knew my personality was the furthest from delightful, and it had remained that way because growing up, I’d had no other choice. Malrik had robbed me of compassion, empathy, and the desire to open myself up to anyone. He taught me that trust was nonexistent in a world like ours, and not even gifted, for one was better off standing alone than alongside anyone else. Carved into my flesh as knife wounds, lashings, and burns, every time I caught sight of his lessons, I was reminded of the cost that came with being a woman.

Men would always take advantage of our softness, and our only choice was to devour or be devoured, so I became the wolf. A spiteful bitch who exploited her subtle curves and sinful mouth to lure my prey in, and it had always worked because men were misogynistic and only yearned to cause harm. They leeched on women’s femininity, molding it into weapons that were often wielded to the extreme. Weapons the woman I was now didn’t know how to set down.

But one individual had pushed me to that edge. Had shoved me so far to the point of consideration that I’d nearly buckled, and it wasn’t because of his broody nature or vile tongue, but the sexual fluidity he so readily displayed.

Caspian Vayne was an anomaly of a man, one whose crimson glower carried a rage that rivaled even the most tumultuous storm. But beneath the mask he wore—one similar to my own—there was a gentleness, a willingness to submit. He was a yearner, a man who sought to please, and that was something I had never borne witness to. It fucking frightened me because a part of me longed to be healed and held by him, for his fingers to caress my skin as they had in the vision that stole the breath from my lungs.

He was a weakness, and I loathed him for it.

Lorelie stopped suddenly, the abruptness of her action pulling me back from my derailed focus. Arm extended, she remained still, and it wasn’t until my senses returned that I heard rustling.

A singular set of footsteps.

Voice soft, Kael prompted, “Which direction⁠—”

Before any of us could respond, familiarity greeted us in the form of a woman.

One strap of her blue blouse hung from her shoulder; the other fit tightly. The generous swirls of ink on her bronze skin were far more visible than I had yet seen, traversing down to the middle of both of her forearms and spanning all the way around to her back. Dark trousers clung to her defined waist, the corset she wore accentuating it even further. Espresso bob disheveled by what I presumed to be her trek, she reached up and plucked a leaf from it.

“Sapphira?” The shock in Syoran’s voice seemed to mirror the rest of ours. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly until her eyes locked with the honeydew ones at the front of our line. “Lorelie?”

“She is the reason Caspian ended up with…”

Ellira’s admittance faded as an animalistic rage overtook my logic. Quickly pivoting, I darted forward and launched myself at her. Our bodies collided before we met the ground, a sharp grunt escaping her as I sank my weight back onto her hips. Dagger drawn, its sharpened edge pricked her throat, drawing forth a drop of crimson before she even caught her breath.

“Rohen!” Lorelie shouted.

Tuning her out, I tightened my hold on the hilt, knees pinning her arms to the ground. A low growl served as the only warning I would offer, bloodlust slithering up my spine and permeating my system. “Give me one good fucking reason I shouldn’t carve your head from your neck right now and bathe in your fucking lineage, bitch.”

“I’m not here… to do anything other than apologize,” she panted, her caramel gaze unwavering. “I-I was wrong… misled in a way I don’t even understand, but I did it to… to see Lorelie again… Which is not a fucking excuse. I was a coward, and I regret my stupidity because now… Caspian⁠—”

Forcing the steel flush against the underside of her chin, I snarled, “Caspian what?”