Page 150 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I turn to find Cassyr standing a few steps back. But he’s not looking at me. He’s glaring daggers at the blonde alchemist who’s been nothing but a bitch to me since I arrived.

He takes a step past me, invading her space to corner her in. Her complexion pales as she looks up at him, shock flashing through her eyes.

“If I hear you speak to him like that again, I will have you removed from your position with immediate effect,” he growls.

“His name is Ezra. And he is the queen’s best friend. I wonder how she would feel if she found out one of her alchemists was treating her best friend like shit.”

She audibly swallows and nods erratically. When she looks at me, her eyes shine with unshed tears. “S—sorry, Ezra,” she mumbles.

“Er—” I hesitate. “It’s okay.”

Not only did he defend me, but he also used my name. He threatened her job, and drew a hard line on my behalf. If I didn’t already have the fattest crush on this man, that would have sealed the deal.

Cassyr takes my arm and pulls me away from her before I can say anything else, his anger a living thing radiating from him. He doesn’t let go until we reach the outer edge of the outdoor training area, the air already sticky with heat despite it only just being past seven a.m.

I glance around, watching all the soldiers stretching lazily, preparing to start another brutal day of training.

“Why am I out here?” I ask, trying to break the tension.

“I heard about the way Cassandra was treating you,” he says evenly. “So, I decided you could have a day away from the miserable cunt and be outside with me.” He glances at me with a faint smirk. “Because I know how much you love my company.”

I scoff. “I think I’d rather take my chances with Cassandra.”

He flips me off and turns to set up the healers’ station at the edge of the training space, laying out bandages, vials, salves, and bowls of sterilised tools for stitching. I move beside him, helping him organise everything into neat sections.

“Thanks, by the way,” I murmur nervously.

“For what?” he asks but doesn’t take his focus off the task at hand.

“Back there. You really didn’t have to. I kind of got used to it.” I shrug, placing down a vial of healing tonic.

He stops what he’s doing and grips my biceps firmly, turning me to face him. “You should never get used to it. You should have told me the moment she started disrespecting you. No one disrespects you here, understood?” he says firmly.

I look up into his burning gaze, my heart doing something ridiculous in my chest at his touch. “Just you, right?”

He exhales sharply. “No. Not even me.” His grip loosens a fraction, but he still doesn’t fully let go. “I apologise for being an ass when you first arrived.” His gaze drifts away from me then, his throat bobbing. “I’m not used to working with people. The last person I worked closely beside⁠—”

He pauses and I search his face, seeing something akin to grief wash over his features, the muscles in his jaw working as he tries to control his emotions.

“They died. After that I demanded I work alone,” he murmurs.

He releases my arm and I find myself instantly missing the contact. My heart physically hurts for him. It’s clear whoever this person was meant a lot to him.

“Was she your girlfriend?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my lips. What a stupid, insensitive thing to ask someone.

He barks a laugh which catches me by surprise. “No. She was my sister.”

He pauses for a beat before continuing, his eyes wearily watching mine, as if searching for a reaction to his words. “I have never had a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend.”

My heart beats a little harder at that last sentence. So, he does like men, too… or is he just saying this to make it clear he doesn’t want anyone at all? Gods, this man confuses the hell out of me.

I nod, trying to busy myself again. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye as he too, resumes working. “It was over ten thousand years ago; it doesn’t hurt most days anymore.”

I cough, choking on air. “Ten thousand years ago? Damn. You’re old as shit.”

He truly laughs at that, and I turn to look at him in shock. He looks beautiful like this. His smile is so radiant, his elongated white canines glinting in the sun. I find myself just staring at him in awe, butterflies going wild in my stomach.