Page 83 of Destiny of a King

“See to this, Percy,” he commanded as he set across the village.

He walked so quickly Adira struggled to keep pace, nearly losing her footing more than once. Each time, his grip tightened just enough to keep her upright, never once slowing his stride.

Villagers stepped quickly aside, no one dared to say a word.

The king’s anger was plain for all to see.

He never once looked back. His destination had already been decided… the cottage.

The moment they entered the cottage, Dravic released her arm only long enough to shove the door closed behind them.

The heavy wood slammed against the frame with a crack that shook the room.

Adira startled, feeling its vibration.

He turned on her, his voice thundering through the small cottage. “What possessed you to do something so foolish?” He took one step toward her. “You threw yourself in front of me.” Then another step. “Shielded me.”

The words struck one after another like blows.

Outside, the wind rattled the shutters.

Inside… the whispers began but this time Adira ignored them.

Her eyes never left him. His hands cut sharply through the air as he spoke. His jaw set hard. His eyes blazed. She watched every movement, every breath, every gesture.

At first, she thought he was angry because she had thrown herself against him, clung to him, pressed herself tightly against him before everyone.

Her stomach tightened. She had forgotten herself but at that moment nothing else had mattered. She had to keep him safe.

Then he struck his chest with the flat of his hand, pointed at her, then raised his hand as if keeping her back, then struck his stomach as if piercing it with a sword, then raising his hand again as if not letting her near him.

His movements were fierce, demanding.

Understanding came all at once. He was not angry because she had touched him.

He was angry… because she had shielded him.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, a spark flaring in them, and, not thinking, she took a step toward him.

Her hand rose and she jabbed a finger at his chest, hard enough that it stopped him for a heartbeat. Then her hands flew, one movement after another. Faster than he had ever seen. Her face tightened. Her brows drew low. Her nostrils flared.

Dravic stared. He had never seen her like this. Never had she shown him anger. She had always been gentle, patient, understanding.

Now… she burned with fury.

“What?” The word escaped him, trying to make sense of her gestures.

She only moved faster.

He thought he caught fragments, but he couldn’t be sure.

Her hands trembled with the force of what she wanted him to understand.

Then she struck her fist hard against her own chest, nodding, then again and again, then she pressed her hand to her chest, patting it before pointing to him.

The realization shocked him so hard that he froze.

She was telling him she would do it again, shield him again with her body, and die if necessary. And she did not do it because duty to the king demanded it.