“I think you’re done there,” Laryn says, keeping his voice even.
But the guard’s mouth tips into a feral smile.
“Not yet, boundary scum,” he taunts Laryn. “You may wear white, but we all know your heart bleeds rust.”
Laryn bites his lips between his teeth, closing his eyes—begging himself for patience.
Elyssara’s eyes flick to Kael.It’s okay. She mouths the words.
But Kael ignores her, his expression clear: it is very muchnotokay.
The air compresses. The warmth bleeds from the space between them, replaced by a sudden, bone-deep chill. Shadows coil tight at Kael’s hands. His pupils blow wide. Black cuts through the ocean-light of his irises like ink dropped in water.
No.
“Do not touch her,” Kael growls, all animal and acid. He tries—just for a heartbeat—to hold it. To stay still. To stay human. But Elyssara knows it’s too late for warnings. This is a promise.
The guard ignores him, used to being a man who acts without recourse.
Big fucking mistake.
The guard’s hands rake over Elyssara’s body in clammy, grabby grips. His palm smooths over her breast like she owes it to him.
And she knows, deep in the marrow of her bones, that this man will die today.
She turns her head, mouth opening?—
But Kael moves.
The guard’s head snaps up, and he gasps as the endless black of Kael’s eyes lock on him.
He is a moving embodiment of Death, shadow, and Decay.
His magic, his curse—they do not announce themselves. They do not rage.
Theydecide.
The horse’s head throws back in a violent arc, her hooves stamping and striking at the guard.
“Fuck!” he screams, thrown off his feet as the horse looms over him.
“No!” Elyssara screams. Not for the guard’s sake. But fortheirs. Laryn’s.
Because without the cover of anonymity, they’re on the run. And Laryn? Kiva?What becomes of them?
Shadows threaded with silver lash like a whip and wrap around the guard’s neck—a leash of Death magic and shadow. Elyssara stumbles back from the display of power. Not in fear, in allowance.
The guard chokes on his own breath, grasping at the shadows.
And despite what it means, Elyssara relishes the sight—another entitled man with false power falling for his own arrogance.
Endless black spreads through Kael’s veins, stretching through his neck, his arms, disappearing beneath his linens.
“Get on your fucking knees,” Kael demands, rasping the words into the man’s ear like law.
The guard does not hesitate. He chokes on the shadows, but drops to his knees in a heavy thud.
“Crawl to her,” he snarls, releasing the guard from his grip and thrusting him to the dry, gritty stone.
