Page 83 of Embers of Ruin

I think someone made sure you wouldn’t either, Onyx had said.

A chill runs through me. I should be thinking about that. I should be panicking about that. Instead, traitorous and terrible, my mind drifts back to the way Thorin smiled when I stopped holding back. I’ve never seen him look so proud.

I close my eyes and breathe.

No.

Absolutely not.

I will not stand in my beautiful prison and think about the Shadow King as if he’s anything other than the man keeping me here. The man who entered my mind, looked at my magic, and smiled. The man who made me feel, for one dangerous second, not broken or strange. Maybe because he can relate, being the ‘Cursed King’.

I open my eyes and stare at my reflection until the girl looking back seems less like a captive and more like someone waiting to become a threat. Maybe that is what they all see, and that is what frightens them.

Or maybe, I think as faint silver-gold light flickers beneath my palm, it’s what they should fear.

Because whatever is locked inside me, whatever door Thorin touched today, I can feel it now. I know it’s waiting, ready for me to open it.

And this time, I am not sure I want it to stay closed.

* * *

A tug in my chest stirs me awake. The wall sconces have dimmed to a faint blue glow. It must be late. I look up, and he’s there—or maybe I’m imagining it.

“Thorin?” I call, squinting at the figure sitting on the settee. No one answers. Training must have me hallucinating.

I turn to roll over, but a sharp intake of breath stops me. I'm on my feet in an instant, crossing the room. The curtains are drawn, hiding his face, but I know he's there. I can feel him. I always feel his presence.

“At least say something instead of sitting there like a predator.”

“I was very impressed with your training today.”

His voice is low and smooth, and gods... my heart flutters at the sound of it. I hate that I've missed how gentle he is with me at times. Before I can answer, he moves, and the room brightens as a single torch flares to life. The room is lit just enough for me to see his face. The face of a monster. Gods, it’s beautiful.

“Why are you in my chambers?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intend as I move closer.

He sits up, his gaze drifting over me, lingering from head to toe. Heat creeps into my cheeks as I realize I'm wearing a sheer black nightgown that leaves little to the imagination. I rake my fingers through my sleep-tousled hair, suddenly conscious of every loose strand and every inch of exposed skin.

“I decided I would come and make sure you're alive. After watching you today, I know you must be exhausted. You expended a great deal of energy.”

I nod, crossing the room toward him. Exhaustion had claimed me almost the moment Talia and Grace finished scrubbing the dirt and sweat from my skin. I'm surprised he came after what happened earlier, but I don't have the energy to argue. Besides, a part of me wants him here.

I wince halfway to him, and Thorin is on his feet in an instant. Before I can protest, he slips an arm beneath my knees and another around my back, lifting me with effortless ease.

“I can walk, Your Majesty,” I murmur, bristling at the gesture. “I don't need special treatment.”

“Thorin,” he corrects sternly, setting me carefully onto the settee.

Our eyes lock, and I watch silver begin to swirl through his irises. The ache in my wrist pulses again. I roll it absently, trying to ease a pain my magic couldn't heal. His gaze drops immediately to the movement, lingering there.

“Did you twist your wrist?” he asks quietly.

“Perhaps.” I shrug. “It’s probably still sore from my training with Mazelle.”

He reaches for my hand without warning, his fingers wrapping gently around my wrist as he lifts it to examine it. Every instinct tells me to pull away. I don't want him touching me like this—so carefully, so intimately—but my body refuses to listen to my mind. His eyes never leave mine as he brings my wrist to his lips, pressing a featherlight kiss against the aching skin.

My breath catches and heat floods my cheeks as I tilt my head, watching him press another lingering kiss to the same spot. My magic stirs beneath my skin, restless... almost expectant, as though it has been waiting for him.

“Why?”