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The earth begins to tremble once more, and screams cut through the air as soldiers scatter.

Distraction? I’ll provide a distraction.

The earth begins to split, this time directly beneath the closest soldier’s feet.

He screams, arms flailing, legs stumbling over unsteady ground. A gaping hole opens up, and moments later, I hear the pleasing crack of his neck.

Distantly, I wonder if he’s still holding Madinia’s hair.

The other soldiers are spooked as they approach, eyes wide as they glance in all directions.

“No sign of them. Perhaps this was just a natural phenomenon.”

“And if theywerehere? Will you be the one to tell Kyldare his little obsession eluded us yet again?”

His little obsession.

Already, Kyldare was going to die screaming. This has added days of torture to his death.

The scars on Madinia’s back flash through my mind, the sound of her choked breaths as she stared at the arrow lodged in her chest.

The earth rumbles once more, and the soldiers scatter, crying out.

My skin prickles, and I slowly turn my head, meeting blue eyes.

“What are you doing?” she mouths.

I give her a slow grin I know will incense her. Her eyes fire, and my power begins to drift out of reach.

I’m unsure how I accessed that power, unsure why I was able to link to the grimoirenow, and unsure why that access appears to be temporary.

“Kyldare is no longer our problem,” the captain says, his voice tense. “The queen wants the dark god and the grimoire.”

My attention sharpens. Nowthat’sinteresting.

“We’ll leave sentries,” he continues. Clearly the captain is also convinced the quake was natural, otherwise he wouldn’t be loudly announcing the locations of those sentries as he points in each direction. “It doesn’t matter if they’re in the area. Vicana will have the grimoire within days.”

Icy fury sweeps through me. Mine. They think to take what is mine.

Kill them all. Make them suffer.

The sleeve of my tunic catches fire. The flame is small, but it licks at my arm, and I’m forced to extinguish it before it draws attention.

My skin is reddened, and I stare down at it. The little witch burned me. Again.

Her expression is unrepentant. She gives me a smirk, and I roll my eyes at her. Her smirk widens.

Gods, she’s beautiful.

Even with dirt on her face, her face bruised, her hair dusty where it has slipped free of the hood of her cloak.Mycloak. Just as she sleeps inmyshirt.

Keep protesting, sweetheart. But your actions tell me youwantto belong to me.

Whatever she sees on my face makes her cheeks flame, and I wish she was next to me so I could wrap my hand around her long hair and hold her still while I ravaged her mouth.

Personally, I think a tumble would allow both of us to relieve some tension. A good distraction from both the danger stalking us, and her betrayal yesterday.

And still, her words echo in my head.