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“Here,” I hiss, shoving the parchment against his chest. Then I sheathe my dagger, shoving down the urge to use it on the prince as I so desperately want to.
“What is this?”
“A list I found in the king’s study,” I reply. “Tucked inside a book on one of the shelves. I made a copy, but on the original all but the last name were crossed out.”
“And?”
“The last name, Espris, she was a servant here. I’ve shared a room with her since I came to the palace. But she’s been missing for the past week.”
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes calculating. Then, with a sharp exhale, he tucks the parchment into the pocket of his pants. “I’ll have Maxim look into it.”
Before I can ask where the guard is, the rattle of a door handle echoes through the gallery.
I don’t stop to think. I don’t pause to plan. I simply seize him by the collar, spin us around, and kiss him as if my life were hanging in the balance.
His body stiffens, but then he responds, all heat and instinct. One arm snaps around my waist, yanking me flush against him as he pushes me against the cold marble pillar at my back. The other hand tangles into the hair at the base of my skull and tugs, a wordless reprimand that sends a jolt down my spine.
I let out a gasp, sharp and involuntary, and that’s when it hits me.
His scent. Burnt orange peel and cedar, like ash and sweet nectar. It’s intoxicating, maddening. The kind of smell that lingers, like memory.
And his taste—gods, his taste—wine and smoke and something darker. Regret. It coils around my tongue and sinks into my bones until I’m drowning in it.
“If you must amuse yourself with the servants,” the king’s voice cuts through the air, icy and laced with contempt, “at least have the decency to do so out of sight.”
We stand there, frozen in place. Kallias presses me further into the pillar, and I duck my head behind the shield his body creates.
“As you command, Father,” he says, slurring the words as though he’s drunk a whole vessel of wine. If my heart weren’t pounding so frantically against my ribs, I would almost be impressed.
The king makes a sound of disgust but walks on, and the silence he leaves in his wake burns hotter than the kiss itself. I glance up, breathless but holding the prince’s gaze once more.
Kallias remains tense, keeping me pressed firmly against marble. His smoldering eyes dart down to my mouth before his lips curl into a sneer. “You taste exactly as one would expect.”
I blink, willing my heart to steady. “And how is that?”
“Like poison.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll teach you to keep your distance.”
Chapter 17
Aella
It’s curious how grief sidles up to rage, how they entwine themselves so tightly that it becomes impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.
Wrapping my cloak tighter around my shoulders, I lean back against a footpost of the bed I first woke in as the sun sinks beyond the windows on either side of the bedhead. The light spills across the white marble walls, which curve gently around me. To my right, the hearth now sits empty, its silence a stark contrast to the storm that hasn’t yet settled in my mind.
Positioned on the floor directly beneath the open-air chamber, the room hadn’t taken long for me to find, and I’ve kept the door locked since, opening it only when someone knocks to leave a tray of food behind.
Lyxander has kept his distance.
But the bargain mark hums softly beneath my skin, a silent reminder that he’s nearby. And if the lightning piercing the distant sky is anything to go by, I’d say he’s not at peace with it.
I curl my fingers around the ivory hilt of the dagger in my lap, running my thumb along the feathered blade.
One of the Diarchy Blades…made from Boreas’s feathers.
I slam the dagger into its sheath.
