“I’ll come back,” I said. “Willingly. So long as you agree to save him.”
Kaelith’s hand slid from my chin to my throat, closing the space between us. “That sounds like a promise.”
Unease crawled up my throat. I swallowed it.
“Very well.” His fingers tightened, pressure blooming against my pulse. “You may fetch him yourself. You have until the last day of Darkfrost. Malachi will accompany you, along with whomever he deems necessary. You’ll get your patron ceremony.”
He lifted his other hand, and with a small turn of his wrist, shadows unfurled between his fingers—fine as spun silk, black as a starless sky. They wove themselves into a thin band that gleamed faintly red where the light struck it, as though threads of blood and starlight had been braided together.
“A gift,” he murmured, catching my wrist before I could pull away. The gold band slid cold against my skin, tightening until it fit as if it had always been there. “So the city knows you’re… mine,” he finished softly. “And so I can feel where you wander.”
His smile sharpened, a hook setting. “Break your word, and your brother, your faithful guard in Synnex—everyone you love—belongs to me. One way or another, Aurelia, I will have you.”
I went still. How did he know about Hayat? Lysara’s warning echoed in my mind. He wanted to rattle me, to own the moment. I forced a smile, sharp as glass.
“If you think threats will bind me tighter, you’re wrong. Allthey do is make me sharper. You want me at your side? Then take what I offer, but don’t mistake it for ownership.”
At that, he growled, baring his teeth before seizing my face and forcing my head back to bare my throat. His fangs sank into the pulse there, sharp fire lancing through my skin. I went rigid as his mouth dragged deep at my neck. I felt paralyzed. A sound tore from him—half hunger, half triumph—as his hand pinned me in place, the hardness of him pressing into my stomach.
The world narrowed to teeth, to pressure, to the iron grip that pinned me. My body wouldn’t move. My voice wouldn’t rise. Fury roared in my chest, but he swallowed even that.
When he finally drew back, blood wet on his mouth, his eyes shifted, amber flaring gold, then drowning to pitch-black. A flash of something ancient. Something not entirely him.
He exhaled, shuddering, a ripple of stolen power running through him. “You’re confused. I already own you.” His hand slid lower, possessive. “And I’ll have all of you.”
The world tilted, heartbeat loud in my throat. Heat and nausea tangled, shame threading through rage until I couldn’t tell them apart. For a breath, I wanted to claw my own skin clean.
My mask cracked. I swung at his throat, but he caught my wrist, twisting me with effortless speed until my back slammed against his chest.
“You want it all?” My voice came out quiet, venom-laced, steady only because fury steadied it. “Then give me your word. I leave to bring my brother here. I have access to the Etherblooms. And I can move freely in Nyxarra. Try to claim anything else, and I swear—the next time you bleed, it won’t heal.”
A pause. Then he laughed.
“There she is,” he said, and shoved me forward, breaking contact as abruptly as he’d taken it. “You’ll leave after the ball.”
I stumbled a half step before catching myself. My fingers roseinstinctively to my throat, to the place where his hand had been, pulse racing beneath my skin.
I dipped my head in mock deference, my spine straight as steel. But inside, I was already setting fire to every word I’d spoken. I had been burning my whole life. What was one more fire?
I would never let him be the first.
My thoughts betrayed me then, turning to Hayat. The dream I’d had of him—the warmth of his mouth, the steadiness of his hands, the way his touch had felt achingly real even in sleep. The ache ofchoice,of what could’ve been. I could have chosen him—the way he chose me, again and again.
Kaelith would never be that. He would take joy in domination, not devotion. He would conquer, not connect. And I would not let my body become another of his trophies.
I turned from him with the same poise I’d worn all night, every brick of my wall slotting back into place, every step measured though my legs wanted to run. My skin still burned where his fingers had touched me. Warm stickiness trailed down my neck—an echo I refused to wipe away, even as it marked me.
But as the garden gates closed behind me and the dark swallowed my steps, the mask settled heavy in my bones. Pretending had a cost. And it was already bleeding me dry.
21
Malachi
There weredays when I could almost pretend I’d grown numb to this place. Today wasn’t one of them.
I was reminded once again of how I was tricked into bonding with Nyxarra—when I gave my oath to protect a city I loved and, in doing so, chained myself to its ruler.
Escaping Nyxarra had been futile, and now, the attempts were few and far between. Those who still tried were dreamers. The ones who remembered life before. Before the binding. Before the mist swallowed the sky.