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I glared at him, ignoring his intoxicating leather and citrus scent as his body pressed close to mine, sending a shiver through me that only made me angrier. He had to be lying. There was no other explanation for the things that I did. Shame roiled in my gut, and I swallowed back acid in my throat. It was one thing to believe that I was out of control. That it wasn’t my fault for what we were doing. But if he was telling the truth, then I had wanted it. Those feelings—of being so overwhelmed by him that I felt like I’d break apart if he wasn’t inside me—had all been me...
“I would never do that on my own.”
He dipped his head until we were nose to nose, his eyes blazing. “Tell yourself that all you want,Sihaya. I know the truth.”
“I hate you.”
“You expect me to believe that?” he growled. “You don’t have any feelings for me? That all the time we’ve spent together meant nothing?”
I met his gaze, my heart pounding. “I never said I felt anything for you,” I said, my voice cool and even. “And you don’t love me. You might be lying to yourself, but I’m not. This—” I motioned between us. “—changes nothing.”
But even as the anger and frustration bubbled inside me, I couldn’t deny the way my body responded to his touch. I hated how he could make me feel so alive and so weak all at once.
“You’re deceiving yourself, Sihaya,” he said, his voice low and husky. “You can say what you want, but we both know the truth.”
I clenched my fists, trying to push him away, but he was like a magnet, drawing me closer and closer until the heat of his body melted my core.
“I hate you,” I said again, but it was more of a whimper than a fierce declaration. My resolve was crumbling with each second that passed. He was dangerous in every sense of the word, but I couldn’t resist him.
“Lord Marshal, you’re—” Mirijana paused, her eyes wide as she took in the state of us. “Varzorn requested everyone’s presence in the throne room, my lord.” She picked at her dress nervously. “He’s about to announce his heir.”
“Thank you, Mirijana. We’ll attend to him shortly.” Theron said, his tone steady without breaking his stare with me, as if we hadn’t just been arguing.
My heart thudded painfully against my chest, despite my cool exterior. The court was not one I wanted to see after what had happened in the arena. Gossip would be rife and I’d have to face their wrath, that a lowly concubine had dared fight against one of the high houses, and that their prince had joined me on the sands.
“Get dressed,” Theron growled, turning his back on me. “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Mirijana is--“
“As if that poor girl could stop you.” He threw over her shoulder.
“I would never hurt Mirijana,” I said, and he scowled.
“You’re coming with me. Put. Some. Clothes. On.” He snarled.
I wanted to protest, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
Stomping to the jug of water, I dunked a cloth into it, scrubbing the blood and sand from my skin. Theron slunk away from me, angrily tearing his clothes off and letting them fall to the floor. My mouth dried as I took in his gorgeous body. Anger rushed through me like fire burning in my veins. I shouldn’t be this attracted to him, godsdamnit.
I opened the wardrobe and pulled out a dress of deep emerald silk, the fabric glimmering in the light as though it had been spun from stars. The bodice fitted snugly around my curves and fell to my ankles, the thin straps crossing delicately over my shoulders before the skirt billowed out around me like a magical cloud of green mist.
Theron dunked himself in the tub, rising from the water like a god, and I turned my back on him. Focusing on dragging a brush through my hair instead. He dressed, his hair still wet as it hung over his shoulders. How quickly I’d changed. Only days ago, I would’ve bemoaned the waste of water, but now it was an afterthought. How easily I’d grown accustomed to a life of ease in the castle, to my stomach always being full and my mouth moist. I pinched my arm, feeling a layer under my skin that hadn’t been there a week ago. Water-fat, just like all those soft lords and ladies. Was I truly that different from him? He’d spent his whole life in palaces; the desert had molded me. I should know better, but still, I was drawn into the empire’s web, ensnared like the rest of them.
Theron held my arm as we made our way through the castle, as if afraid that I’d run. All the eyes of the court were on us, whispers of what happened in the colosseum following close behind. I kept my head held high as we finally reached the throne room and were ushered in.
The massive throne room was at the apex of the ziggurat with immense windows overlooking the endless desert. The walls were black stone, polished to a shine, with intricate carvings depicting battles from long ago. Golden torches lined the walls and hung from their sconces like stars, illuminating the space. At the center stood a dais and on it was an ancient wooden throne, worn but still regal in its stature. It had been carved out of a single tree that must have been hundreds of years old, its once rough bark now smooth with age. Velvet cushions lay atop it in hues of scarlet and black thread adorned each cushion in the Carxidor sigil of a vanira that glimmered gold in the light.
On either side of the throne sat carved statues, each one depicting a different god or goddess, with Atar at the forefront. The air was heavy with anticipation as Varzorn stepped onto his dais and surveyed us all.
“My people,” he began, “for many years now, I have searched for a suitable heir to take my place when my time eventually comes to pass.” He paused for a moment to survey us all, as if daring one of us to comment before continuing, “After much consideration, I have decided to name my nephew Rhazien as my heir. He has proven himself to be loyal and ruthless, and I am confident he will lead our empire with strength.”
Theron’s face was still as if carved from the stone that surrounded us, but his eyes betrayed his anger. It radiated off of him in waves. He stood there in silence, looking on without argument or protest. Despite his desire to oppose Varzorn’s decision, he remained steadfastly silent and bowed his head in acknowledgment of the new heir.
The court erupted into cheers and applause at Varzorn’s proclamation and people crowded around Rhazien to congratulate him on his new position. Caelia Sarro scowled, her brother whispering something in her ear as they looked on.
Rhazien stepped forward from where he had been standing at the back of the room next to his mother and bowed low before Varzorn. “Thank you, uncle,” he said humbly as if the gathered nobles didn’t know what he was truly like. “I am deeply honored by your decision.”
Varzorn nodded before turning his gaze to Theron, who stood with clenched fists at his side. His face was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that spoke volumes.
