Page 152 of Wings of Destruction

It only makes her angrier. I can see the fight building in her eyes as she surges to her feet. Her hands move like they’re going to carve out my eyes. The fury coming off her is intoxicating.

Her gaze dips to my thigh holster, fingers twitching toward the dagger. I slowly stand, putting me right in front of her, and her proximity knocks me off balance. The air between us grows thick and fragile.

Her gaze dips to the dagger again.

I motion my fingers up. “Eyes up here, princess.”

She snarls and pins me with her most cutthroat stare. “Stop calling me princess when you’re the one who’ll inherit a throne built on blood.”

“You think I want to be king?” I ask in a gravelly voice.

“I think you do because you know your daddy is going to kill the king and hand that crown to you, as his first born. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

Her words shouldn’t cut. It’s the image most of the kingdom sees of me. The image I must uphold if the rebellion is to succeed. And my want for her to see me as the person who wrote to her does nothing but compromise everything I’ve worked for.

Slowly, she adjusts her posture, and I move with her, maintaining eye contact. “I think you know what your father’s plan is and everyone around you is nothing but pieces to be used and moved around at will.”

Her arm whips out for the holster, and the world around us pauses. I should be used to this by now, the way reality warps during combat.

My eyes flick down to her hand, and I grab her wrist in a punishing grip. The second we make contact, the world speeds up again and leaves me dizzy.

“We’ve already established, princess.” I tug her close. “You’re not killing me anytime soon. It’s too bad I can’t extend the same courtesy to you.”

I tighten my hold until the individual tendons on her wrist stand out.

“Killing me would be a courtesy,” she spits. “Yet you hesitate.”

“Maybe I’m not the cold-blooded killer you think I am,” I tease.

She wrinkles her nose. “There’s only one way to prove it.”

“I don’t relish this death wish of yours. It makes me wonder about you.” My voice is dry.

This is infuriating and my thoughts threaten to tailspin. I’m not going to lose her. I’m not going to let her kill herself.

“Just do it and stop messing around because I’m tired of waiting.”

I don’t want to have to kill her. Why does she think I’ve tried this hard to keep her alive?

It’s been difficult. She seems determined to toss herself into the pit rather than using her brain. I’ve lied to get where I am, to bring her with me, and I’ll cheat if necessary.

“Maybe you’ve got nothing but unicorn turds between your ears if you can’t see what I’m doing for you,” I counter.

She barks out a laugh and pulls her arms to free them. She’ll punch me right in the face if I let her go, but she’s not able to break my grip. I smirk, the room darkening around us.

She stills and lifts her chin, her cheek muscle flexing. “I wish to find some peace in my final hours, but you’re standing in my way.”

In her way...

The smile falls from my face, and I glance out the window instead of responding right away. My temper explodes, the ice-cold control snapping. “Standing in my way.” The silence stretches between us.

I can’t remember the last time I lost my temper and allowed it to touch anyone else. But those words sting a part of me, and if I show her, she’ll punish me for it.

The way my father did in his own merciless way.

My mother had tried to protect me from threats like General Ryson, but she hadn’t been able to do anything once he snapped. He’d struck her down like a broken doll, and in my horror, in my guilt, he’d told me one thing.

She’d been standing in his way.