“Do you think Mrath is dead?” I ask finally.
He pauses. “No. They would be celebrating differently if she were.”
I hate that it makes me feel better. “Good,” I mutter. “She deserves to live. After everything I learned in this place…well, I hope she finds a way to topple her brother.”
“Arion has corrupted the throne of Living Throne somehow. Mrath must break the connection to the demon god and restore the channel to Doros.”
My mind puts this new puzzle piece into place. I know the magic seemed wrong. Cursed One confirmed that he had a darkness to him.
So why does he want theCumhacht na Cruinneif he already has a new patron of power?
Because he doesn’t want to be under Abhartach’s thumb anymore. He’s already found a way to have best of both worlds.
There is a long stretch of silence. My mind races with everything I’ve learned.
Vann exhales. Then, softly, “Arlet?—”
“No.” I cut him off before I have to hear another apology. My insides are still twisting after the conversation we just finished having. “Not now.”
He doesn’t push. Just breathes.
After a while, I shift closer to the hole, curling my fingersagainst the edge. After so many weeks of impersonal touches, of being controlled and chided and molded into something for Arion, my body is acutely aware of how soft and warm it was in Vann’s arms. How good it felt for him to touch me and whisper in my ear. I am lonely. There is no other way to explain it. I don’t know if I want him.
But I know I don’t want to be alone.
“Are you still there?”
“Always,” he says.
A pause.
Then I see his hand slide partway through the opening—just enough for the tips of his fingers to reach mine. His knuckles are bruised and split. I hesitate, then hook my smallest finger around his.
He does the same. Another small, stupid thing. Familiar and dangerous all at once.
“I promise,” he murmurs.
My heart cracks in half and I see all the promises from before—the one the night before the mating ceremony, and then again when he bound me for the first time. I feel the soft, reverent touch of his hands running over my body, hear him promising to keep me safe as he made me sweat and come apart under his hands and tongue.
Not again.
I pull my hand back before I can think better of it. The warmth of his skin lingers.
He doesn’t press.
The darkness around me goes quiet again. I let the distance between us breathe and speak as if it is natural to be so reserved around him.
I need…I need to rest anyway.
Chapter 35
ARLET
Cursed One’s restlessness wakes me once again. I look up at the hallway and see the torch outside flicker, its flame bending sideways, drawn toward something unseen. Shadows crawl up the wall, slick and alive. The air hums faintly, like a blade drawn slowly from a sheath.
“Do you feel that?” Vann asks, voice alert. He shifts, pulling away from the space that connects our cells, and there’s a slithering presence in the back of my mind. Strangely enough, I think he’s right.
“Yes.” I crane my neck. “Is it guards? Or is Thorne back?”