“He’ll ally with anyone to overthrow me,” I muttered sourly.
“But the gods haven’t been sighted together?” Drystan said.
There were a few head shakes around the table.
I couldn’t fit the puzzle in my head and it was tormenting me. The gods had created me together; now they’d come to land temporarily to destroy me, yet they didn’t seem allied themselves for that mission.
Rubbing my temple, I couldn’t concentrate with the ache building in my head.
“We’ll resume tomorrow,” Nyte announced, a subtle dismissal to everyone.
I was about to object, but they had already started leaving. Zath cast me a small smile. Did I really look that unfit? I believed I was maintaining an admirable façade, but inside, my body felt like a sinking weight, as if my very organs were succumbing to the slow, deliberate pull of collapse.
Turning, I leaned back against the table with a defeated sigh. Nyte was in front of me a heartbeat later. When everyone left and the doors groaned shut, Nyte stepped closer to me, saying nothing but leaning his head down and inhaling deeply as if savoring my scent.
“You’re tired,” he said after a pause.
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t though, and we both knew it. Time was slipping away. It was a cruel illusion—how something that never altered its pace seemed to vanish more quickly when we needed it the most.
Nyte took my hand, and I didn’t bother to ask where we were going. We wound through a few halls until we came to the broken throne room.
It was icy in here, with most of the back wall and part of the roof caved in. It wasn’t snowing right now, but the previous days had flooded white crystal snowfall into the room.
“We’ll need to get that fixed,” he said.
I didn’t think I would see that day.
“I quite like the view,” I said anyway.
“Then we’ll knock away the rest and fit glass in its place. Any other refurbishments?”
My smile didn’t quite reach my face. Imagining this hall bright and warm while watching the seasons pass through the glass wall was a wonderful vision.
The purple throne still sat proudly and untarnished atop the dais. Nyte led me toward it, up the steps; then he coaxed me to sit. Leaving me there, he descended back down, and I didn’t know what he was up to.
He simply stood there, staring, his face unreadable.
“You are absolutely exquisite,” he said quietly, like the thought had accidentally leaked from his mind.
“Come here,” I said, holding out my hand.
Nyte came back up, bracing both hands on the arms of the throne to lean in and kiss me. He seemed so… calm. At peace with whatever fate we were headed to. It inspired the same in me, and I kissed him with more need to make every second count.
He lowered, parting my knees with his hands to settle between them before they trailed up my sides, pulling me toward the edge of the throne.
“I want to take you right here,” he muttered huskily. “On your throne. Worshipping you.” My breath stuttered with his mouth tracing featherlight along my jaw and down my neck. “My Starlight.” His fingers reached for the laces of my front bodice. “My mate.” He slipped the material off my shoulders with slow attention. I shivered at the whistle of cold from the outside contrasting with his hot breath across my bare chest. “My queen.”
“Anyone could walk in,” I said breathlessly, but I lacked any true objection.
“They could.”
“It’s cold.”
“I’m going to fix that.”
Nyte’s fingers grazed over my chest, and I looked down with him. Thedark vein crawling toward my heart reached the top of my breast now. When I spent time studying it in the mirror this morning I realized why I found the grim mark of death beautiful. The line heading for my heart was like a barbed stem, and the site where the blade punctured bloomed like dark petals. As is if a stemmed black rose fell down my body.
