“Then let us go, before Sandros finishes his speech and the crowd floods through here into the Dining Hall.”
He looks down at me, assessing my strength. “All right. But I’ll carry you.”
He scoops me up as if I were as light as a feather. It happens fast, I don’t even get the chance to react. The coat of shadow around us thins as he hurries with me past the great statue of the High Fae with the nine worlds to the Dining Hall.
A long table presides on a high royal dais by a pair of pillars so high they seem to support the very skies, overlooking a landscape of ocean and mountains. If it weren’t for the protection of Xerxes’ shadow and the silver suit under the armor, I would surely feel the icy breeze of the Winter Realm. Dozens of other tables, round ones, with silver cutlery and impeccably white tablecloths fill the rest of the hall, with a round luscious empty space right in the middle—the dance floor, I suspect.
Xerxes slips into the corridor that connects the Dining Hall to the kitchens, which we go around in order to avoid being seen.
We find the area with the servants’ bedchambers, where Xerxes discovers a perfect place to hide. It’s a small room at the very back, at some distance from the other bedchambers, and the energetic signature reveals that it hasn’t been used in a while.
Xerxes slips inside with me in his arms.
It turns out the space is barely more than a lumber-room, with stacks of cloth and barrels of magic nectar. My throat goes dry as soon as Xerxes sucks the cloud of shadow back into himself, and I catch the first whiff of the magic liquid. It would work wonders for my depleted stores of energy.
“Please, I need—” Is all I manage in a weak voice as he sets me down on a cot behind the barrels. It’s so cold in here that there is no dust, and the blanket covering the cot has a thin, cracked layer of ice over it. Our breath turns into white clouds of steam as it leaves our mouths, and the tip of my nose is so cold I can barely feel it, in stark contrast with the rest of my body that feels cozily warm.
Xerxes grabs a silver goblet from a shelf, and turns the tap of one of the barrels, letting the golden liquid fill it to the brim. The better I can see and smell it, the more I want it. I yank the goblet from his hand, and the moment the icy silver touches my numb lips I can feel again. The life-giving nectar travels straight to my limbs, infusing them with energy and life. I can barely rip the goblet away from my lips, but I have to leave some for Nazarean, too.
I put the vessel down on the floor, and he leaps down from my shoulder, lapping with his little tongue at the life-giving liquid. Slowly, my arms stop trembling from all the effort I did.
Xerxes regards Nazarean and me for a while, but just as I get ready to rise from the cot and get back to work, Xerxes drops his shield, and starts undoing his gauntlets.
“What are you doing?”
“The nectar gave you a shot of strength, but you still need rest in order for it to take full effect. If your adrenaline levels shoot high immediately, your strength will be gone just as fast if you use it immediately.”
“But Xerxes, the more time we take with this, more people will die. Your people, in the Fire Realm.”
He throws his breastplate on the cot. I flinch and lean back as he stares at me with fire in his eyes.
“Some nerve you have, speaking of it. Why do you provoke me? Things were going so well.”
“Were they?”
Xerxes balls his fist, large and deadly, a weapon in itself, hitting his chest with it.
“You betrayed me with Samael, and you didn’t give a damn about my realm when you did it. Why remind me of it now? I had kicked it out of my head, and managed to focus on the mission, now you ruined it again.”
I swallow hard, leaning back until my armored back hits the wall, but I don’t take my eyes off of his. I know I should lower my gaze, accept his anger, because I want him to believe that I’m guilty of all that and more—or I should want him to, in order to save him. But part of me grows angrier with every word, because it’s not true and, deep down, I’d expect him to know that. We’re fated mates. He should know I’m incapable of ever betraying him.
“You could have easily stopped the destruction of your realm,” I snap. He squares his shoulders, cocking an eyebrow at me like he can’t believe my nerve.
It might be the nectar, but I’m fueled. I step closer to him, jutting out my chin and staring him boldly in the face. Blood floods my cheeks, and Nazarean forgets all about the nectar, placing himself between Xerxes and me, desperate to keep us at least a few inches apart.
“You could have easily saved everyone,” I tell him through my teeth, my eyes sharp. “You could have just let me go to Samael. All you had to do to save your realm was to let me go. But no, you had to keep me, and punish me as you see fit. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy listening to all those suggestions about how to make me suffer, because I know you did. If Draven is out on the ramparts of the Fire Realm, fighting back hordes of demons and hell creatures, it’s because of your choice, not mine.”
Saying all these things functions as an outlet and drains me of my anger. I realize that I’ve been poking his leather-clad chest with my finger as I marked my words. But judging by Xerxes’ face, my words have only fired him up. He grabs my elbow and walks with me backwards until I fall back down on the cot. He sweeps his shield, his breastplate and his gauntlets off the cot and onto the floor. They clang against the rest of his armor. He’s wearing only his leather fighting outfit again, being completely the impressive King of Flames with shadows curling off of him like smoke, which is a clear sign he’s losing his grip on his temper.
“Wouldn’t you have liked that, me giving you over to Samael, letting you go without incident? You treacherous witch, how could you believe that was even an option?”
The corner of his mouth curls up mockingly as my lips tremble. “You thought you could manipulate me through my feelings for you. To be honest, I thought you were smarter than that. But, on the other hand, I can see why you grew smug. You’d achieved the impossible. You’d made a lovesick boy of the great King of the Fire Realm, of the man before whom all realms used to tremble. So you thought you could play with my heart without consequences.”
The panic he drove into my flesh starts to transform into something else, something hypnotizing. It must be the beauty of his fierce eyes and of his brutal features that express passionate love as much as they do pain and frustration. I grow soft in his grip, and I don’t think I can hide it anymore. Hide how much I want him. I crave his love back, I yearn to heal the pain I’ve caused.
“Yes, letting him have you would have been the easiest way out of this shit, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you two have your way.” His hot breath hits my face as he speaks. Fire is gathering in the back of his throat. He could spit like a dragon right now, I can tell by the way lava travels through his veins, snaking in rivulets under his skin. “You took my heart, Cerys. And when you had it in the palm of your hand, you sliced it all the way through. All those years before I met you, I stayed strong and in control because I didn’t have any feelings. My heart was a cold chunk of black rock. But then destiny forced our paths to cross because, guess what.” He laughs bitterly. “Not even the most powerful can thwart destiny. I tried to trick it, and I failed. But I swear to you by the cursed realms, you and that bastard Samael won’t outrun yours either.”