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Chapter Twenty-Eight
The lantern flames dance as if with a renewed spark tonight. Perhaps it is the swell of patrons circulating through the royal grounds, their worries of poisoned tributaries seemingly far from their minds as they laugh and converse and disappear into the depths of the gardens.
I feel the seduction in the air, too, as I lean against my terrace’s stone railing, a heady anticipation thrumming through my limbs. A quick glance over my shoulder ensures Zander isn’t sneaking up behind me.
With shaky fingers, I slip my ring off.
And hold my breath.
Nothing happens.
I frown with dismay. Wendeline was wrong. I don’t feel any— A twinge stirs somewhere deep in my chest. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but then it grows, radiating outward, expanding along my arms and legs, crawling up my neck and along my spine, until my entire body vibrates with this energy that is both foreign and familiar, like the adrenaline rush I’d feel when reaching for a necklace or slipping a watch off a wrist—except magnified by a thousand.
It's distracting and uncomfortable.
And exhilarating.
Wendeline was right. I can feel my affinities now.
I shove the ring back on my finger and the odd surge quells almost instantly. Relief overwhelms me and I laugh as I peer down at the ring in my hand. If I had to feel that all day, every day, I might lose my mind. Sofie knew what she was doing when she bound whatever spells she cast to this body.
What will I be able to do with these powers?
“The gold is said to be a gift from Aoife to an elemental, a piece of her antler.” Zander’s footsteps against the stone rouse my pulse for an entirely different reason.
I keep my eyes forward as I struggle to calm my racing heart. “I read about it yesterday. It’s sentient.” Whatever that means.
He comes up behind me, his height looming as he settles his arms on the railing, caging me in. “I heard you plan to drag Elisaf to the library again tomorrow. He hates the library.”
I love the library. I’m becoming more adept at guarding my words, and yet it’s harder to keep them in. I want Zander to know who I am, to get to know the real me.
His breath skates across my neck, stirring gooseflesh over my bare, sensitive skin. “My mother gave the ring to me to give to you. It’s supposed to help you channel your affinity to water. I suppose you sensed its importance that night in the tower, even if you didn’t remember why.” Zander pinches the lace on the lapel of my robe between his thumb and index finger, as if testing the material. His fingernail drags along my skin, sending another shiver skittering through me. “But if you’ve somehow lost your affinity, then it is nothing more than a trinket.”
The tie on my robe unravels with Zander’s soft tug, and it distracts me from thoughts of my deception. He slips one side off, revealing my nightgown and the scars across my shoulder.
A prick of self-consciousness goads me to shrink from Zander’s inspection.
“Don’t,” he whispers, leaning in.
I close my eyes and revel in the feel of his lips against my injured skin as he traces each unsightly claw mark as if it’s the most beautiful part of my body. “What is happening?” I hear myself ask.
He pauses mid kiss. “Wendeline believes there is a reason you returned the way you did. She said that perhaps what Malachi did to your memory was a blessing to us all, that it’s a second chance.”
“A second chance for what?”
“For me to forget the Romeria of yesterday, along with all her cruelty. And for the Romeria of yesterday to forget her hatred for what she does not understand. And even though I know there is something you continue to hide, I am fighting against this constant aching pull I feel toward you.” He adds quietly, “Fighting and losing. So let us not play this game of pretend anymore. At least not for tonight.”
My robe slips off to pool on the cool stone terrace floor. He cradles my chin in his hands. “And let me see if I can find that affinity of yours, wherever you’ve buried it deep inside.” His kiss is soft but assured this time—unlike the hesitant and the frenzied ones of the past—and I allow myself to melt into it, my core thrumming with eagerness as I press into the hard planes of his body.
He slips a hand over the small of my back and directs me through my terrace door toward my bed. Halfway there, his hands gently slide the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders. I pause long enough to allow the material to fall to the floor. I hadn’t bothered with undergarments since I was preparing for bed, and my heart shudders with nervousness at the feeling of being bare in front of Zander.
But the rustle of his clothing comforts me. I won’t be alone in this for long.
Steeling my courage, I turn and settle on the edge of the mattress in time to watch him kick off his boots and shuck his pants. His tunic has already been cast aside.
“Son of Malachi, indeed,” I murmur, taking in his impressive size.
He smirks. “Where did you hear that? Son of Malachi?”
