A smile touches his mouth. It’s the first one I’ve truly seen and its breathtaking. It feels like the sun rises within him, casting away the shadows of night. He’s dangerously handsome at all times, but right now, I think he could steal my heart.
“What is it?” he asks, as if sensing the sudden panic that spirals through me.
“Nothing.”
Thiago slumps back down, but his hand runs along my hip. “You say that a lot, you know?”
I go still, my heart beating fast. It’s an easy way to hide my heart, but maybe I need to stop doing that. “I like your smile.”
He rolls me onto my side, so he can see me.
“Do you?” he whispers as we stare into each other’s eyes. There’s a dangerous sense of longing within him. “You make me smile. Even when I know I shouldn’t.”
Further confirmation that this only lasts until dawn.
I close my eyes and kiss him again. “I like all the things I shouldn’t be doing with you.”
“Really?” His answer is a rough laugh as he takes my hand and curls my fingers through his.
“But I almost think I like this the best,” I whisper as we hold each other.
It’s a tremulous admission.
I trace his arms, his shoulders, those tattoos. As wonderful as the fucking is, it’s this moment that truly threatens me. I know he feels it too. He’s too still, too thoughtful. And his chest rises and falls in steady increments, as if he barely dares break the truce between us.
But then he does.
“I wish that I could trust in you,” Thiago whispers. There’s a storm in his eyes, and he captures my surprise on my lips. One long heated kiss that steals my breath. Then he’s kissing my cheeks, my nose. “But I can’t help thinking that you were never meant to be a gift. You were meant to be my destruction.”
The moment is gone, a portentous shiver running through me. “Don’t say that.”
His eyes darken. I almost don’t recognize the look in them. “There’s almost a part of me that doesn’t care. Shatter me, Vi. Break me. Destroy me. I will love every moment of it, until we crash and burn.”
I shove him onto his back and then sling my legs over his hips. Pressing a finger to his lips, I shake my head. “Stop saying that. Stop tempting fate.”
“Fate already fucked me once,” he whispers, his thumbs rasping up the outside of my thighs. “It can wait its turn. Maybe we can make our own fate.”
And then he flexes up and kisses me again, drawing me down to our ruin.
8
ISKVIEN
I wish that I could trust in you….
The words spin around my head as I circle my small tent the following day.
I slept with the Prince of Evernight.
It’s almost like I have some sort of weakness for arrogant, handsome males who are nothing like they seem to be on the surface.
But I can’t help thinking that Thiago and Etan are worlds apart.
He was angry yesterday. Furious with the reveal of my identity.
And yet, not once did I ever feel threatened.
It’s a heady realization.
The evil Prince of Evernight—the one who murdered his queen and her heirs, the one who seeks to steal my mother’s rightful lands away from her—wanted to know why I have bruises on my wrists.
I pace and I pace and I pace.
There are thoughts churning in my mind. Dangerous thoughts.
I can see him again, the backs of his knuckles brushing against my cheek as our eyes meet, and he sinks deep inside me. I can feel my breath catching, feel that moment branding itself on my skin. Taste his kiss on my lips as he stills and lets me adjust to his size and weight.
It’s all starting to merge in my mind.
My mother digs the knife into the skin beneath Finn’s eye.
My hands shake as I sign the contract that will bind me to a monster.
And Thiago’s mouth captures mine as he hauls me against him, and I wilt into his arms, wanting nothing more than to lose myself in him.
I promised my mother I would sign the marriage contract.
I never promised her that I would go through with the marriage.
“Fuck it.” I’m moving before I can think my way through the entire plot. The problem is this Finn. If I renege, she’ll kill him. Painfully.
But if he’s no longer here….
Then she can’t do a cursed thing to him.
And I heard the pain in Thiago’s voice last night.
If I can do nothing else for him, then I can give him this: I can set his friend free.
There’s no one in my mother’s tent right now, thanks to a private meeting with the queens of Aska and Ravenal, and I know the guard’s rotations. Edain will be with my mother, to serve as her personal protector. Andraste will be sitting on a cushion by her knee, smiling as she drinks down their wine and their threats.
The Asturian guards are good.
They know they can’t afford to allow my mother’s precious hostage to escape.
But they’re not looking for an attack on the inside.
No, they’re looking toward the tents of Evernight or Stormlight.
I need a cloak, I need a knife, maybe some of those hair pins that I learned to pick a lock with, and gloves, for the iron. Half a minute later I have everything I need and then I’m slipping from the tent and pulling the hood of my cloak up over my dark hair.
Night’s not far away. More bonfires. Middenmarch tonight. We will sing to the ancestors who fled to this world, and burn the pyres to remember them. Blessed Maia. Blessed Selena. Blessed Ambryn.
This is the night the queens plot.
This is the night accords are made, and treaties formed.
Nobody will be looking for me. I’m in disgrace with my mother. Forgotten. Barely watched.
I count to three as a guard strolls past, wait until he’s around the corner of the tents, and then I slip into the shadows. Five seconds later, I’m inside my mother’s tent.
A single torch burns. Veils of fine linen hang to separate rooms within the tent.
My mother’s bed is opulent—all red and gold cushions, with fine silk sheets and furs cast there.
Edain’s chambers settle off hers, with a neat pallet laid out on the floor. It barely looks used.
There’s a cage within his chambers, a shadowy figure curled up on the floor within it. I ease through the linens, pressing a finger to my lips as Finn’s eyes blink open in surprise.
It’s dark back here. I can see the shadowy figure of a guard pass by outside, carrying a torch.
Finn peers at me through his sweat-dampened hair, straining to see who just entered. His eyes widen in recognition and he opens his mouth, before he sees my finger. His mouth closes, but his surprise remains apparent.
The torch fades. The guard walks away. We’re as alone as we’re ever going to be, and we have three minutes until the next guard circles around.
A heavy iron ring circles his neck, and someone’s bolted it to the side of his cage.
Iron. This might be a problem.
I can pick a lock, but even touching those bars will burn my hands. The gloves will help, but iron seems to emanate with its poison and though my tolerance for it is higher than most, I’m not entirely immune.
“Well,” Finn says in a roughened whisper as I circle the cage. “I can’t say I expected to see you here. Princess, was it? Princess Iskvien?”