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“I’ll fix this,” he whispered. Not before he said a final goodbye though. Astor would need to make another potion so he could visit Sorcha in Aura’s dream one last time.
Rush spun on his heel and made his way to Aura’s room. He held his breath and rapped his knuckles against the door. “Aura?”
Silence.
“Aura, are you awake?” he asked.
“I’m not talking to you through the door,” she snapped.
Rush smirked. “Well, I’m not opening it, kitten. Not when your claws are out.”
A floorboard creaked from inside the room. “What do you want?”
“To make sure you’re all right.” He leaned against the door frame and closed his eyes. Aura said nothing. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to keep you here like this, but it’s for your own safety.” He wouldn’t mention the torture that would ensue before he killed him just yet. And, while he’d promised Sorcha that he’d fix things a moment ago, she couldn’t hear him. Promising Aura was different. But he couldn’t tell her that he planned to continue to try and break the spell. Not when she would get her hopes up. Because if he couldn’t… “It’s only until I’m finished with the prince.”
Fabric shuffled inside the room along with the soft pad of bare feet. When Aura spoke again, her voice came from directly on the other side of the door. “Can you just—”
“Rush!” Astor skidded around the corner, his eyes wild.
He’s coming. The hawk shifter didn’t need to say it out loud—it was written all over his face.
“Keep your claws out while I’m gone,” he told Aura in a low tone.
Astor walked beside him through the hallways. “Pax is riding from town in the direction of the palace. He traveled with a small entourage, but they’re still in the tavern. There doesn’t seem to be anyone following him.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.” The Pax he knew wasn’t courageous enough to do anything on his own, let alone face the King of Sin. The letter Rush sent requested that the prince come alone, but Rush hadn’t expected him tolisten. “Stay here with Aura.”
“But what if—”
“If the bastard tries to attack me, my dragon will devour him,” he snarled. “Don’t leave her unguarded until I return.”
“Of course,” Astor relented before sprinting back down the hall to Aura’s room.
Rush pounded out into the gardens, ignoring the startled looks from the guards, and made straight for the side gates with dusk lighting up the sky. Vines grew over the black iron, curling around the metal design, with small red flowers only starting to bloom. The gate hadn’t been used since the day Sorcha was found—she would always use it to explore the woods.
The hinges fought him as the king shoved the gates open, but it stood no chance against the adrenaline coursing in his veins. He broke apart the rust in mere moments and trudged on. It was a short walk through the thinly wooded area to reach the place where Pax and him would sneak wine when they were boys.
His heart hammered as he got closer, anxious for Pax’s torture to begin. The wide trees stood tall, and as a child, Sorcha would climb the flowered one in the distance.
Rush slowed his steps as he reached the meeting spot, then leaned his back against a trunk. The ground was muddy and wet from heavy rain the day before.
When Pax had yet to make an appearance, Rush prowled around a tree, listening for the sound of approaching hoofbeats.
Inside, his dragon lifted his head. Held his breath. The way the beast hunched, still and wary, sent a prickle of awareness across Rush’s shoulders. Memories of Sorcha stirred the beast’s ire. And the fact that Pax was moments away from death by Rush’s hand.
The King of Sin paced, cracking each knuckle in turn as he waited. And waited. Until his dragon stood.Stop, he chastised. He couldn’t allow his dragon to take over. Rush would handle this business himself, and that required words first. He wanted Pax to knowwhy—to know that the truth had been exposed.
A snarl tore from the dragon’s mouth, rumbling up Rush’s own throat without his permission. It was then that the prickle of watchful eyes on his back registered. He drew in a breath, preparing to turn and see the face of Sorcha’s murderer. He must’ve dismounted his horse and approached by foot. The bastard was sneaky—he’d give him that much.
When Rush turned, it wasn’t Pax who stood mere feet away, but a sorceress in onyx robes, holding a staff. Black braids hung loose over her shoulders, dark kohl rimming her deep brown eyes. She watched him, expressionless.
“Where the fuck is the prince?” he demanded.
She simply lifted her staff. A cloud of orange smoke spilled out from it and rose around Rush, coating his body in a fine dust. Rush couldn’t feel his dragon. Couldn’t feel his own body.
Dozens of blurred figures crashed through the woods, the sound of their footfalls deafening. Still, Rush couldn’t move. Could barelythink, let alone comprehend what was happening.
“—the chains!” a man yelled.
