Page 50 of Heart of Night
Erina reaches the table first, seating himself in the chair closer to Myron, leaving the one across for me. The throne room feels like an endless tunnel of sepia and gold, the resuming whispers of the courtiers reminding me that this is all a show. They cleaned Myron up and put him in finery fit to dine with a king. To a human who’s never seen magic at work, he must look like he’s the king’s dear guest, receiving the extra protection of General Katrijanov. Erina even smiles at him as he whispers something I can’t make out with my human ears.
Just like he does to the rest of the court, I must appear like Erina’s guest of honor with the way he’s been parading me at such events. Little do they know that, in a different world, it would have been my father on this throne instead of Erina. In a different world, I would have been the Princess of Tavras. But in this world, I’m someone whose claim to the throne is about to be annihilated. I won’t be a threat if Erina gets his will. I will be a pretty breeding tool to pop out heirs that will secure the continuation of his own line. And the way he’s putting Myron on display to show me his cruelty has no bounds, I’m inclined to say he’ll get his wish.
But what will happen once he has what he wants? What will he do to Myron? To Royad and Astorian and the nameless Crow down in the cell? Are they still alive? Or has he gotten rid of them because he believes Myron is all he needs to keep me in line? Or is there something more he wants that I yet need to figure out?
Ten more steps and I’ll be sitting at the table with the male I’m married to and the man who believes it’s all right to steal someone else’s bride. I can only imagine Myron’s rage equals my own as I finally reach the table and slide into the chair Erina pulls out for me like a caring partner would. The gesture is disturbing and disgusting in equal parts.
Yet, I can’t bring myself to look away from Myron now that I finally have him in front of me, and his eyes…
His eyes are blue like the ocean.
My breath catches for an entirely different reason, and my voice dies even as Ephegos’s magic releases me.
Beautiful. His eyes are beautiful. Like the waters of the Quiet Sea. The same shade of turquoise-laced blue reminding me of gentle waves and caressing breezes.
He must see it in my gaze, for the mask he so carefully crafted slips, and for a moment, it’s all there: the love, the despair, the hope… It’s the hope that kills me as I try not to crumble at the sight of him.
Alive.
Ignoring my throbbing shoulder, I lean back in my chair, awareness prickling along my skin wherever Myron’s gaze wanders as if in search of something. His posture hasn’t changed, but his eyes are burning like the sun itself, and within those blue irises lies freedom. I can almost taste it as I keep staring at him like a complete fool. Freedom, and the call of the ocean.
I don’t know how many minutes have passed when Herinor clears his throat and Myron’s gaze ices over, as does his face.
“Herinor.” His voice… Like silk sliding over the edge of a blade… Goosebumps rise on my arms beneath the fabric of my gown, and my heart thunders in my chest in response to the most significant sound in the world.
But it’s not my name he spoke. Herinor. He recognized his kin behind me, and whatever warmth lingered in those eyes retreated beyond the mask.
“Good to see you alive, Myron.” I can tell Herinor means it, and judging by the glare Ephegos throws in Herinor’s direction, the Crow traitor knows it, too. A dangerous game Ephegos is playing. And I still don’t know what he gets out of it.
“Myron.” Erina inclines his head in fake politeness, his hand drifting across the table to catch mine where it’s resting beside the golden plate. “May I introduce to you my fiancée, Wolayna.”
I could swear the ice in Myron’s eyes turns to death. There is nothing of the male left of him, only the monster, yet, he can’t shift into his Crow form with his magic sedated with the same drug they are giving me.
“Pleasure.” As if trying to hide the slip of emotion, Myron doesn’t look at me, but the muscles in his jaw flick beneath his bruised skin, and I know he’s ready to sink his teeth into the King of Tavras.
“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Erina puts on his regal smile as he stands from the table, addressing the entire room. “Make it known in the entire realm that King Erina Latroy Jeldnedyn has found a bride.”
The audience explodes with cheers and claps, Odja shuffling over to congratulate His Majesty on his excellent choice. It’s embarrassing and awkward and so utterly wrong that I still don’t have words when servants enter from the side doors, carrying platters of little cakes and bottles of bubbly wine. It’s the traditional meal for an engagement party, which, I realize, this is.
And Myron is here as Erina’s secret weapon. One threat at the Crow King, and he knows I won’t refuse.
Twenty-Five
Myron
My shoulder is killing me more than the bruises on my stomach and sides where Katrijanov made sure to land a few hard punches before dragging me into a sparse bathing chamber and ordering three guards to scrub me down and put fresh clothes on me.
The first moment, I hadn’t understood what he wanted with those other than to potentially drag me to the King of Tavras in the upper levels of the palace. But Erina had visited the dungeon before when he wanted to gloat, so that option soon became irrelevant.
Now I know.
Ayna’s steel blue gaze hasn’t strayed from me since the moment she spotted me at the king’s table. How I wish I had my magic so I could lay waste to this palace as I grab Ayna and run.
I can’t. I won’t even try with my powers securely incapacitated by the drug they gave me. Enough to keep my mind slow and my body weak—and my magic out of order. But the real reason I haven’t moved from the uncomfortable chair they assigned me is the words Katrijanov whispered to me before leading me into the throne room.
Try to escape, she dies. Try to attack King Erina, she dies. Try anything at all. She. Dies.
I’m not risking Ayna’s life even if it means I need to remain prisoner to a human king for the rest of my existence. Probably not as long. Their drugs will run out at some point if they keep increasing the number of fairies they need to subdue. Four grown males are a lot to keep in check, especially powerful ones such as Astorian and Royad. Silas isn’t a magical weakling either, but his power derives more from his physical prowess.