“Tallon!” Egath’s voice cut through, muffled and urgent beneath the water.
My lungs burned. My arms weakened with every passing second. Let him try to drown me. Egath would intervene.
Fingers dug into my scalp, hauling me back to the surface. I gasped, sucking in gulps of air as relief and fear tangled inside me.
He brushed my hair from my face, dangerous green eyes glinting. “Be careful how far you push me, little princess. Your body is mine.”
“And yet you value it so little.” I coughed, water dripping from my lashes. “I had to beg my enemy for a simple bath. If you truly wanted this body to last long enough to carry a child, perhaps you would take more care with it.”
“I don’t need you clean to fill you with my seed.” His words were soft, deliberate, as he shoved my head back, rising to his full height. “Come here.” His finger jabbed toward one of the women standing, obedient, along the wall.
Egath’s eyes narrowed. I tried to shrink within the tub, water sloshing around me, watching in horror as the woman kept her head lowered, hands clasped. With her back to me, her compliance burned through me like ice.
Tallon drew a dagger.
Egath blurred forward, intercepting him before the blade could descend. The servant trembled but stayed still, shoulders stiff, unflinching. Tallon’s attention shifted from her to his cousin, a flicker of irritation in his gaze.
“You’ve slit enough throats today,” Egath hissed, straining against Tallon’s strength.
“What’s one more?” Tallon snarled, eyes flashing toward me. “She thinks she’s so strong. I want her to see what I can do.” His laughter was bitter and jagged.
“One more will rile Deimos. Feed from her, but lower the dagger.”
It was grotesque. Egath pleading for a single life, a mere citizen with no voice, no will. The woman would stand there and allow her throat to be slashed without protest. He wanted me to witness it, to understand the full measure of his cruelty.
But I already knew.
Tallon jerked free of Egath’s grasp and backed up a step.
Egath met my gaze over her shoulder. He tugged at the collar of her simple black dress, exposing the mangled mess of scars with a contented sigh. She tilted her head just enough to let his lips press against her skin.
His green eyes drilled into mine as his nose brushed along those pale, crescent ridges. The warmth of the bathwater vanished, replaced by a cold chill that slithered down my spine. He made it intimate, seductive—as though the way he traced her neck for the softest spot to bite belonged to a moment caught between lovers.
But there was nothing tender or loving here.
His gaze carried promises sharp as razors, desire raw and consuming. He bared his teeth, the points gleaming, and snapped his jaw over her skin.
And I knew he imagined me instead.
Crimson bloomed along his lips, but he drew back with a hiss. Tallon surged forward, pushing him aside. He seized the woman’s arms, holding her as if she might vanish, but she remained slack and limp, letting him take what he wanted.
Egath settled onto the edge of the bed, long legs crossed, hands clasped over his knee. He didn’t wipe the dark streaks of blood from his chin. Instead, he nodded to the other two servants.
“Finish her bath.”
I was a fool. Deimos granted my request to bathe, but he hadn’t come for me. I assumed that if I reached out to him, he would sneak me away—and I’d get under the open sky.
But instead, only Tallon came, staggering down the halls like a drunken shadow to fetch me for dinner. He clamped that absurd collar—my mutilated mantel—around my throat. His fumbled movements were careless and brutal, pinching the sensitive skin beneath its clasp.
His uneven strides yanked at me; every lurch and misstep twisted my back, pain radiating in slow, probing pulses.
Egath followed, calm and detached, eyes like knives, body close enough to intervene but choosing not to—his restraint a taut wire stretched between us and disaster.
I kept my eyes downcast, muscles coiled, enduring Tallon’s drunken sway. I snuck glances at every shadow and dim corridor. Was Kallias still in the palace? Was he waiting for me outside? Could the dragons truly hear my pleas? Deimos might have guessed at such things, fumbling for legend as if it were fact, but surely Ronan would have told me if Gyrak understood me.
But Kallias wouldn’t have lied. We hadn’t shared much time, but I trusted him with my life—and my future. The dragons would come when I called.
Tallon retched, doubling over. Streams of scarlet shot from his mouth, his back arching with the force. His fingers dug into my arm, clutching me to keep his balance.
