Page 11 of Embers of Ruin

“And you underestimated me,” I snap, “as men often do. Being a woman doesn’t make me weak.”

I spit the words as my lip curls with contempt.

“I did, but only once,” he murmurs, holding up a finger. “I won't make that mistake again.”

His eyes flick to the dagger at his ribs. “You're small, but feisty.”

I bare my teeth. Why is he smiling? I'm threatening his life. He could at least pretend I’m a threat.

“Why didn't you use your magic?” he asks.

The question throws me off because he sounds genuinely curious.

“I don't need magic to kick your ass,” I shoot back, letting every ounce of venom seep into the words. His smile only widens.

The bastard.

He shifts, testing my stance. I match him immediately, refusing to give an inch. I know he could overpower me if he wants to. His size alone makes that obvious. But I refuse to let him outmaneuver me. Not after this. Not after discovering who he really is. I haven't known Onyx long, but he’s started to grow on me, arrogant jackass and all. Finding out he serves the king hurts more than it should. It’s a prime example of why I keep myself closed off. Disappointment is easier to survive when you expect nothing from anyone.

A muscle jumps in his jaw and his face shifts to an expression I haven’t seen from him yet. Then I realize something unsettling. Onyx isn't angry. If anything, he looks impressed. Maybe even a little … turned on? I wrinkle my nose. Absolutely not. With a disgusted sound, I shove both hands against his chest. He lifts his hands slightly, pointing a finger at me.

“Most people can’t counter me. No one your size, at least. You’ve got fire, you little terror.”

“I’m not most people,” I sneer, my heavy breathing giving away my exhaustion.

“I see that,” he says quietly, stepping away from me. “Save your energy. You’re going to need it where we’re going.”

“And where might that be?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “Ready to turn me in? Cash in on whatever ransom there might be?”

Our breaths mingle in the cold air, and we're close enough to feel the warmth radiating from each other's skin. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then Onyx's voice drops.

“Not that it's any of your concern, but there is no ransom for me doing my duty as Captain of the Shadow Guard. And even if there were, I wouldn't have taken it.” His gaze settles on me. “I've watched you for days. It would've hardly been a challenge to catch you while you wandered aimlessly through that rubble you call home.”

That arrogant smirk appears again and I immediately want to punch him. Partly for insulting my village. Partly for pointing out that I never noticed him watching me.

“And now that you've proven your point,” he continues, “we're going to finish this conversation without stabbing each other.” He arches a brow and the smirk remains.

Gods help me. The man is infuriating.

I hesitate before sliding my dagger back into its sheath. My heart is still hammering, half from rage and half from the thrill of proving him wrong, but I decide to hear him out. Not because I trust him, but because I want answers.

Onyx watches me for a moment longer before speaking again. “As I was about to explain,” he says, dragging a hand through his hair, “my mission was to find you first. To bring you to the palace alive.”

I stare him down, refusing to look away. “You’re a monster, you know that?”

His jaw tightens. “I never said I wasn’t a monster. Only that I’m not your monster.”

“That doesn’t really mean anything, now does it?”

“I saved you.” His voice is low but firm. “Those soldiers at the cottage were not ordinary guards. One of the king’s Acolytes was with them. If he’d touched you—if he’d sensed even a flicker of the power you used on that boy … ” He shakes his head. “You would not be as safe as you are right now.”

Something in his expression darkens. “His name is Gavin.” He pauses, blowing out a frustrated breath. “And he is extremely creative with his methods of torture.”

By now my hands are trembling, but I keep my face stoic and do my best to hide the storm raging inside me. I’m feeling entirely too many things. Anger. Confusion. Fear. All of them battle for control, each one demanding to be heard louder than the last. On the one hand, Onyx is right. A far worse fate may have awaited me had the Acolytes found me first.

But the lie—the omission, whatever he wants to call it—is inexcusable.

“So instead I’m supposed to thank you for kidnapping me?” I place my hands on my hips and cock my head to the side.