Page 6 of The Crowned Queen

“No need to be afraid, dear.” His grip shifted, forcing her back until her legs hit the edge of the bed. “I’m just going to take a quick look at your runes.” He turned her to face the bed, twisting her arm behind her.

“Jaxon—” Araya craned her neck toward him, his name slipping past her lips before she could think better of it, torn between a plea and an accusation.

But he just watched, his face carefully blank as Kai’s father took advantage of her distraction to push her down onto the mattress, one hand firm between her shoulder blades.

Araya choked on a sob, any thought of fighting back crushed beneath the unrelenting pressure of his magic. She was only vaguely aware of his body over hers, his fingers pressing to the ly’ithra rune tattooed at the base of her thumb. He wasn’t just touching her. He was inside her—rooting through the threads of her magic and cataloguing every broken piece of her soul.

Araya squeezed her eyes shut when his fingers found the hem of her shift, pushing the fabric up. His touch stroked across her hip, the ring flaring hot against her skin as he pressed two fingers against her ta’nara rune.

It could have taken minutes or hours. Time no longer mattered. When the pressure finally lifted, Araya sagged against the mattress, sliding to the floor as her legs gave out beneath her. She curled into a ball, every breath tearing ragged from her throat. She didn’t look up at Jaxon, instead fixing her tear-blurred gaze on his polished black shoes.

“Pretty thing.” Kai’s father stepped away, turning back to Jaxon. “Her runes are intact. I’d say she’s an excellent candidate for sor’vael, just like you’d hoped.”

Another rune. Araya curled in tighter on herself, unable to look at either of them. She’d never heard of it before, but if Jaxon wanted her to have it there was no way it could be anything good.

“What about her bond with the prince?” Jaxon’s hand found her hair, his fingers dragging through it in slow, absent strokes.

“Complete,” Rian confirmed. “The whole thing is deceptively simple. All it takes is an exchange of blood and true names. You’re smart to keep the bond suppressed until you decide how to handle it.”

“She knows his name?”

Anyone else might have missed the sudden interest in Jaxon’s voice, but Araya heard it—felt it in the way his fingers twitched against her scalp. She lifted her head slightly despite herself, glancing up at Kai’s father through her eyelashes.

“She would have to.” Rian drew a white handkerchief from his robes, wiping his hands carefully. “Unfortunately, we’ve never been successful in compelling or torturing a fae into giving up their mate’s true name. He’s far more likely to tell you it himself to protect her once you have him back in custody.” He smiled down at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Mates. They’re all the same. He would do anything to protect her.”

“How touching,” Jaxon said flatly. “He’ll come for her, then?”

“Oh, I’d count on it.” Rian tucked his handkerchief back into his robes. “He won’t be able to help himself. But you should have plenty of time to get her inscribed before then. I’ll send over my official recommendations within the week, along with a shortlist of runesmiths you can trust with this sort of delicate work.”

“Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” Jaxon’s hand slid to the back of Araya’s neck, gripping her hard. “Belanis—see him out.”

The gray-clad servant hurried forward, her eyes fixed on the floor. She didn’t look at Araya once—not even when she slipped through the doorway and pulled it closed behind them.

Leaving Araya alone with Jaxon Shaw.

He didn’t speak at first, turning into the bathing chamber instead. Araya held her breath, listening to the sudden splash of water against the porcelain, the rustle of cloth. Then his footsteps headed back toward her, his boots clicking against the tiles.

“Here.” Jaxon crouched beside the bed, holding out the steaming cloth toward her. “Wipe your face.”

Araya hesitated, but there wasn’t another choice. She took the towel from him, dabbing at her face with shaking hands. The damp heat seeped into her skin, somehow soothing and stinging at the same time.

“Are you in pain?” Jaxon asked softly.

Somehow, she wasn’t. Now that the shock and wrongness of having her bond examined like that had faded so had the pain, leaving her with nothing to complain about besides the dull ache in her abdomen. Even the iron she wore was lined with silk, preventing it from burning her every time she shifted. A luxury they hadn’t given Loren. He would wear the scars of his captivity for the rest of his life.

“You don’t have to suffer, Araya.” Jaxon straightened, studying her with an unreadable expression. “I never wanted to do anything but keep you safe and happy. We were happy, once, weren’t we?”

Araya’s throat tightened, the sympathy in his tone curdling her stomach. Once, she would’ve given anything for him to look at her that way. Back when she’d still believed being his possession would win her safety and security.

Gods, what a fool she had been.

“You wanted my power,” she rasped, her voice hoarse. “You drained my magic and nearly killed me.”

“Because of him.” Jaxon’s voice sharpened before softening again just as quickly. “I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I know it wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t help how you were drawn to him—it was all biology. You didn’t even understand what was happening to you. If you tell me his name now, this can all be over. We can go back to the way things used to be.”

Lie. Araya hugged her knees again, hiding her face. Humans always lied.

Jaxon sighed.