Page 66 of Queen of Shadows and Ruin

“Zarya,” Rabin growled as he tugged on his restraints to no avail. She ignored him as she directed the thread of her shadow magic lower and then circled his cock, pulling her magic tight. He made a sound resembling something between a gasp and part choking on his tongue.

“How does that feel?” she asked softly while he met her with his burning gaze.

“Like I’m being turned inside out in the best possible fucking way.”

She smiled and then approached, using her magic to drag up and down his length. He pulled against his restraints, and his head tipped back. She watched a sheen of sweat surface on his skin while she pumped him with the thread of her shadows.

She wanted to touch him but was also enjoying watching this too much. She continued working his cock as the tendons in his neck stood out, and then she slowly moved closer, straddling one knee over his hips and then the other.

“Who’s in charge this time?” she asked, and he smirked as she tugged out another shuddering moan.

“I think it might be you,” he gasped, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

Then she positioned herself over his erection, taking him in her hand while her shadows swirled. She positioned him at her entrance and then slowly lowered herself. She gasped as it all came together. His wide cock and her spinning magic filled her up, touching her in every secret place that had her knees turning weak and her fingers tingling.

“Fuck, that’s so tight,” he whimpered. “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m not even sure,” she answered truthfully. She’d wanted to see what it would feel like, and the combination was mind-numbing and earth-shattering at the same time. She could feel her release cresting again.

“Can I have my hands back?” he begged, and she freed him immediately before they came to her hips, his fingers digging into her skin. He thrust up into her as they moved together, and her shadows spun around them, adding just the right amount of pressure.

She tipped her head against his, and then they both seized as one, coming together in a bright flash that left her breathless and her head spinning. She rode him as he thrust his hips until they both stopped panting.

“Fuck,” he said before he kissed her. “We are doing that again.”

“Now?” she asked, laughing.

“In just a minute,” he said. “Let me catch my breath.”

Then he smirked. “I told you the darkness was nothing to fear.”

TWENTY

Yasen and Miraan stood at the palace gates, staring up at the sky-blue walls and darkened windows. Dozens of soldiers manned the ramparts, crossbows aimed at their hearts. Ash hung in the sky like shadows, obscuring the sun into a burning red orb bleeding across the horizon.

Miraan pushed his hood back and ran a hand through his hair. As promised, he’d sent his sister a letter, and they’d agreed to a temporary truce.

Yasen didn’t trust it or her. He’d tried to talk Miraan out of this, but the prince wouldn’t be deterred. The longer the riots continued, the more he internalized everything as his fault. Never mind that Dishani, Gi’ana, and a thousand years of oppressive rulers had brought this misery upon themselves.

“We can still turn back,” Yasen said as he stared at the guards who flanked the entrance. Despite the crossbows trained on their movements, their welcome was more subdued than he’d expected. He’d been prepared for a hundred armed soldiers waiting to escort them into the palace, maybe in cuffs or chains.

Instead, they’d entered the empty courtyard where the massive astronomical clock dominating one wall stood silent. Yasen couldn’t help but compare it to a ribcage with its heart ripped out. Their footsteps echoed against the quiet while he noted the piles of wet, crumpled paper crowded into the corners. The notes that Yasen and Rabin had dropped over the city, sharing the truth about the Jadugara.

“We’re going in,” Miraan said, and Yasen nodded. Initially, Miraan planned to go alone, but Yasen had threatened to tie him up and toss him in a pit if he attempted to visit Dishani without him.

Eventually, Miraan conceded so they could at least walk into their deaths together.

“Let’s go,” Miraan said, and they approached the door. As they drew closer, guards shuffled into their path while more appeared behind them. It took a moment for another figure to appear—Talin, the youngest of the Madan siblings.

The guards parted to allow him past.

“Talin,” Miraan said, obvious relief in his tone. “How are you?”

Talin shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in a gesture so similar to his brother’s that something twisted in Yasen’s chest.

“Not great,” Talin said.

The younger Madan brother looked entirely different than when Yasen had seen him last. He’d been full of life and exuberance, but now he appeared on the verge of falling apart. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and he wore rumpled clothing. The effect was compounded by the shadow growing on his chin. “Why did you do it?”