“Like hell it isn't.” I lean closer. “Your enemies become my enemies when we're magically bound. What made you vulnerable enough for Jeron to mark you like this?”
I smooth the last of the paste over his jawline, my fingertips lingering at the edge of his neck. My eyes drop to his mouth for just a heartbeat too long. When I look up, the gold in his irises has brightened to molten amber, and something electric passes between us.
The room suddenly feels too small, too hot. I can't name what's happening—this collision of loathing and fascination that makes my skin prickle whenever he's near. I'm exhausted, he's hurt, and for once, I don't fight the current.
“Jeron misjudged me,” Dayn says, his voice lower than before. “He forgot what a crown means here.”
“And now he's dead. Problem solved, right? Nothing commands loyalty like a public execution.”
“I meant to paralyze him, not incinerate him.” His jaw tightens. “Your blood changed something in me. When I cast, your darkness came through.”
The air leaves my lungs. “What?”
“It was supposed to be a simple binding spell.” His eyes won't meet mine now. “But this... shadow energy emerged. When I pulled my fire outward, I turned him to ash before I could stop it.”
“Holy hell.”
“The witnesses will clear me. Anees. The other lords.” He straightens, wincing. “There. You have your story. You can go now.”
I narrow my eyes. “You've been ghosting me for days.”
“I've had matters to attend to.”
“Bullshit. What about this marriage charade? My ticket home? I need straight answers, Dayn.”
He shifts away, then hisses as the movement pulls at his burn. The paste has hardened to a shell, but I can tell movement costs him. His face settles into that imperious mask I've come to hate.
“I'll find you an exit, Esme. But right now, I'm dealing with something far more dangerous. Something that threatens your world as much as mine.”
“You know, I could help.”
“You can’t. Actually, you’d only make things worse.”
“Glad to see you’re still a monumental dick.” I shake my head and stand, but the moment I put distance between us, a cold ripple runs through me. Sitting next to him had felt unnervingly warm: his heart hammering in my ears, his fire surging through my veins again, imagining the rich, dark taste of his blood in my mouth…
I bite down hard on my lower lip, trying to disperse the memory—and the craving.
“So what, then? I just keep training?” I ask.
“Colonel Rogon says you’ve come far. So yes. Train, play your part, Esme. I’ll play mine. It’s all we can do until I craft an exit strategy.”
That worries me. Just like being kept in the dark about something that, in Dayn’s words, could upend my world beyondDraethys’s stone walls. I miss Darkbirch: my ancestors, my family. I miss the night sky and the cold hush of our cemetery. I miss the life I left behind. It wasn’t much, but it was everything.
“Let me be perfectly clear, Dayn,” I roar. “I’ve followed you into insane situations before. This is your final chance to prove me wrong. You’ve ripped me from everything I know, and now you expect me to trust you blindly—and marry you?”
“If you hadn’t tried to escape, we wouldn’t be here,” he snaps. “I never intended to wed a darkblood.”
“So you’d have married that Rogon woman instead?”
His eyes flick up, amused. “Honestly, you’re a bit jealous.”
“Please. I stand by my words. I’d rather gouge my eyes out than marry you, you deceitful, scheming, heartless SOB.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
“Screw you.”
I slam the door behind me and pause in the hallway. Silence wraps around me, and a slow smile spreads across my lips. He’s smiling too—I just know it. Why, though? I’m not sure.
