Page 27 of The Crowned Queen

Araya opened her eyes, her heart in her throat as Jaxon’s fingers slipped away. He strode over to the window, peering out into the night.

“Stay with her,” he ordered Kai, his voice clipped. He snatched the bone staff up from where it leaned against the wall, dropping it through the loop on his belt. “No one comes in but me. The guards will stay on the door.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Araya sucked in a ragged breath, pressing a fist against her mouth. Loren. It had to be Loren. He’d come for her—would always come for her. And Jaxon knew that. That’s why he had allowed the tea to wear off while she was unconscious. So Loren would be able to find her. And now he was here. He’d taken the bait and was walking straight into Jaxon’s trap and there was nothing she could do to warn him.

“Hey. Everything is going to be alright.” Kai knelt beside her, gently prying the shift from her clenched fist. “Here. You should be able to get dressed again. He needs to be present to actively hold the compulsion.”

Araya jerked away from his touch, glaring at him.

“I know.” Kai rocked back on his heels, his gaze carefully trained on her face. “I know you hate me right now. But I really need you to talk to me. Are you alright?”

“No.” Araya dragged the shift back over her head, fighting the tears that burned in the back of her eyes. “Why would you let him do that to me? Do you know what he can order me to do?”

Kai looked like she’d struck him. “He can only command your physical actions,” he whispered. “Not your thoughts or feelings.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” A wet sob tore from her chest. “He just forced me to strip in front of you. What other physical acts do you think he’ll stoop to commanding me to perform?”

Kai’s mouth snapped closed. He stared at her, the usual sparkle in his eyes snuffed out. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice soft. “I really am, Araya. I came back as quickly as I could⁠—”

“Go fuck yourself, Kai.”

Araya turned her back on him, crossing to the window again. She stared out at the dark gardens without seeing them, her eyes blurred with tears she refused to let fall.

Chapter

Nine

Stone groaned, cracks spreading from where Nyra’s hand pressed against the wall. The floor trembled under Loren’s boots, small stones pelting him as they rained down from the ceiling. Pressure built against his skin—magic and something else, the very foundation of the world beneath his feet twisting and breaking until the wall finally collapsed in on itself in a choking cloud of dust.

“That’s a neat trick,” Loren said.

Maerin’s fighters rushed past them, leaping over the debris and dashing into what must have been Garrick Shaw’s personal dungeon. Dara’el twitched forward, eager to flood into the breach after them, but Nyra’s arm struck Loren across the chest, holding him back.

“We’re supposed to wait,” she said. “Count of thirty.”

Loren clenched his jaw. The shadows dragged at his control, straining forward like hounds against a leash. Somewhere beyond his line of sight another boom shook the ground, sending dust cascading from the ceiling in sheets.

“Now?” he demanded.

“Twenty-two,” Nyra said, her gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the breach. “Twenty-three, twenty-four⁠—”

Somewhere above, an alarm rune sounded, its shrill scream rising above the sudden din of shouting and the clash of metal. Now, the shadows howled. Now, now, now⁠—

“Now,” Nyra breathed.

The shadows ripped past them both, surging past the short row of empty cells. But Loren’s steps slowed, the faint scent of damp earth and wildflowers reaching him even through the damp, rotting stench of the place, all of it mixed with the coppery tang of blood.

The shadows howled their fury, tearing one of the barred iron doors from its hinges and smashing it into the wall. His mate had bled here⁠—

But she wasn’t here now.

Loren pushed ahead, dragging the shadows with him. The bond pulled at them both. Up a set of stone stairs, the heavy iron door at the top blown clear off its hinges. Scorch marks marred the pristine walls, the air heavy with the acrid tang of burnt magic. Maerin’s fighters were nowhere to be seen, but neither were the guards.

“Loren!” Nyra shouted behind him. “Stop! We’re supposed to go together!”

He didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.