Page 36 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Thirty-Six

EVIE

I n the following days, we fell into a weirdly comfortable rhythm that would have driven me wild with questions only a few weeks ago.

Now I accepted that it just was.

Zandyr and I each went about our days, him facing the Senate, councils, and training with his warriors, while I continued my lessons.

Then Goose would take another delectable tray of sweets to the guards as a precautionary measure and Zandyr would sneak up through the back garden, Leesa’s ointment on his hands and feet. Probably overkill, since the back garden was wild and inaccessible to most, but better safe than sorry.

We talked little, both falling to sleep exhausted. Then we’d wake up tangled, as if our bodies couldn’t deny the needs we tried so very hard to ignore while conscious.

Or I did.

The way he smelled, the elegant but fierce way he moved, how his vowels dripped from his lips, both with a royal tilt and the edge he’d gained among his warriors, soldiers, and assassins.

He was a beautiful dichotomy of born refinement and trained ruggedness, all tied up in a relentless, ferocious package.

A royal warrior.

A crown prince.

The one they called The Dragon.

I slept each night next to him, lulled into the realm of dreams by his heat that seeped through the sheets straight into my bones.

“You’re not focusing,” Allie drawled from the portal. She sounded too tired to be reproachful. Her voice was clipped and impatient. Something must have happened with the Commander. “You need to light the candle, not incinerate it whole.”

I looked down at the growing mound of scorched wax, the hues of yellow and red now blackened by my blistering power. A fresh candle stood on the table, waiting to be sacrificed along with its siblings.

I sighed and fisted my palms. Controlling my power was proving more difficult than either of us had imagined. Some days, not even a spark of it burst to the surface. Other times it threatened to burn down the entire library. Goose now left a bucket of water waiting by the entrance, just in case. Bless him and the way he still blushed whenever Leesa was anywhere near him.

Allie thought we should try to channel my power toward a specific goal. Hence the candles.

“I’m not the only unfocused one.” I raised my palms toward the candle as Allie let out a big, undignified yawn. “Sleepy?”

“Exhausted. I can’t concentrate on anything and I have a literal mountain of Clan payments and charges waiting for me to go through. It’s blocking the foyer.”

I frowned. “Payments?”

Allie hesitated. “Are you alone?”

“As alone as I can be.” Goose was banging some pots in the kitchen, Leesa was fluffing some flowers on the veranda, and the hiss of blades in the courtyard could only come from Adara.

“Then yes,” Allie said, whispering all the same. “I’m checking every single penny that went into Protectorate members’ vaults. And each that vanished.”

Allie had never cared about wealth. She’d cursed Fabrian’s fortune each chance she got. “What are you looking for?”

“Bribes.” Her gaze slashed to me. “Our magic was blocked on Sanctua Sirena and I suspect someone got rich off it.”

“If someone did receive a bribe, then they would have erased all traces of it.”

Allie’s lips twisted into a mean grin. “I have my ways.”

Because she was fearsome and raised Clan and knew the little details a civilian–or a Lost Daughter–would miss. “I’m guessing you’re not sleeping with Ryker.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Allie bit out, but I noticed the way her cheeks tinged.

I shrugged. “If you want to concentrate better, it might be worth it to try sharing a bed. Especially with the future of the Protectorate hanging in the balance. Literally.”

“I fear Silas has tipped that balance against us. The decisions he’s making are ludicrous.” Allie pinched the skin between her eyes. “He’s infuriated me enough for one day, let’s get on with our lesson.”

Which we did–without success.

Five more scorched candles joined their brethren before we called it quits for the day, both leaving the session with headaches.

Mine persisted well into the evening and only got worse the more I stared at the last surviving candle. It was a gorgeous thing, pale yellow with dried flowers embedded on its sides.

Gorgeous and stubborn.

I sat on my bedroom floor cross-legged, staring at it with all my might. My legs shook from the strain. Not one single tendril of power appeared.

A flutter of movement resounded from the window.

I didn’t need to turn around. I felt it was Zandyr, sweeping inside for our nightly ritual. I didn’t move, but my heart did a somersault for good measure.

“What did that poor thing do to anger you so much?” Zandyr’s voice purred from behind.

“It won’t cooperate.” I sighed, looking at him over my shoulder. He was as enticing as ever, filling out his armor with all the grace and power he possessed. I shook my head. These weren’t the kind of thoughts I needed right before we spent another night together, innocent or not. “Can you light a candle?”

“No.” He took off the top of his leather armor with ease, as if we’d been undressing in front of each other all our lives. “My magic doesn’t deal in inanimate objects.”

My breath stuttered. If not objects, then…“What can you do? Besides healing yourself?”

Zandyr stood still. Very still. With a deep sigh, he outstretched his arm toward the window. Nothing happened for a few seconds, the stare between us stretching uncomfortably.

Then I heard it.

The flutter of wings. A lovely little blue owl flew straight into Zandyr’s hand, cuddling in his palm. Its big eyes looked around frantically, as if it didn’t quite know what was happening.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Zandyr trailed one finger down the fluffy feathers on its head.

It would’ve been cute and endearing, except for what it represented.

“You can control beings,” I said, breathless.

“Blood,” Zandyr corrected. “It’s always blood.”

“Ryker did the same thing at my wedding.” He’d frozen those guests with one raised hand.

Zandyr nodded and patted the owl’s head one last time. “Fly away. I feel a little lizard near the terrace, your chicks will eat well tonight.”

On cue, the owl spread its wings and got out of there as fast as it could flutter them, leaving the two of us alone in a stunned silence.

“It looks more impressive than it is,” Zandyr said, almost like an apology.

“Can you control any being?”

“Ones that aren’t protected by magic, yes. The smaller they are, the easier it is to control their movements. Or slow down their lungs. Heart.”

In three quick strides, he was next to me. With a tired sigh, he sat down on the floor, so we were face to face.

“It exhausts us to the point of fainting,” he went on. “Useless in battle, as far as I’m concerned. You can only slow down your attackers so much while trying to dodge their blows. The more beings, the less you can command them.”

I gulped. My mouth felt sewn shut.

“You can feel it when someone is using it on you,” he said, an urgent lilt to his voice. “And I would never use it on you.”

I shook my head.

“That’s not what concerns me.” Gods help me, but the idea of him controlling me with his powers hadn’t even slithered into my mind. “What you’re describing is how I felt when the snake attacked. Like someone commanded my movements. And the snake’s.”

Zandyr frowned.

“If Banu and Valuta are from the Northern Clans,” I forced myself to go on. “How could they use Blood Brotherhood magic?”

Zandyr leaned away, gaze freezing over. A cold look. A calculating one. “They have a bare grasp of our magic, given to them by the Senate, but not enough to control a human body, magic or not. Since you described the attack, I suspected they–” He clenched his jaw. “Godsdamned oath. I suspected a true Blood Brotherhood member might be involved. A powerful one. Which complicates matters.”

I didn’t want to ask. I really didn’t. But given everything I knew, I had to. “Is Kaya true Blood Brotherhood?”

Zandyr narrowed his eyes. “You can trust Kaya. I’d say with your life, but she’s been protected and shielded too much to hold her own in battle.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yes, you can trust her. I do.”

I sighed in relief. Kaya was one of the few people I liked in Phoenix Peak. Xamor, she’d been the only one to truly warm up to me from the start; even Goose had hesitated to properly talk to me at first.

“How could such a person come out of Banu and Valuta?” I asked.

“The gods have a grim sense of humor. Or they’re trying to restore balance, who knows?”

“I’m just glad she’s not horrible.”

It would’ve been awful to suddenly fear one of my…friends? Were Kaya and I truly friends? We were about as close to it as the fairytales said.

“Gods,” I whispered, realization dawning on me. “I’ve never really had a friend.”

Bewildered silence flowed from Zandyr. “Your mind works in very peculiar ways.”

“It’s true. Unless I count my cousins, who are family…” I shrugged. “Why not speak the truth? The legends say it sets you free.”

I was damn tired of secrets, small or huge.

“Sometimes, truths can cause more harm than good,” Zandyr ventured, as if it pained him to say it.

“Spoken like a true Blood Brotherhood member. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask anything about the oath again and bleed you dry.” The mere thought of it turned my stomach to mush. One thing was becoming blatantly clear–I didn’t want Zandyr to die. Not now, not ever. “Who do you think Banu and Valuta are working with? Can I ask that?”

“You can, but I have no answer.” He grit his teeth, as if he could intimidate reality itself to answer the question. “But I will. Secrets like these always find their way to the surface.”

If only the secrets he couldn’t tell me would do the same–without killing him.

“It’s like someone sicked the Serpents on us right now to keep me occupied,” he went on. “I can’t risk chasing theories when my Clan and wife are in danger.”

Wife . Such a simple word, said so casually, sent flutters through my chest.

“The advisors haven’t tried anything for some time,” I said as shadows crowded Zandyr’s gaze. I didn’t know what ghosts had taken hold of him, but I wanted them gone. “Maybe they realized I’m not a real threat.”

I was more powerful than when I’d first arrived in Phoenix Peak. Stronger than I could have imagined when I’d shivered with fear in front of that altar. If Banu and Valuta would have known the truth, that razborback snake might’ve been child’s play compared to what else they could concoct.

The sensation of the snake’s fangs in my flesh pierced through the dark recesses I’d sent it to. But that was nothing compared to the hopelessness I’d felt at not being able to move.

“We can only hope they’ve redirected their attention elsewhere. And you will be a real threat.” Zandyr’s gentle murmur brought me back to reality. I was safe, I sat next to him, and the snake was dead. I flexed my fingers on my thighs for good measure. He nodded at the candle waiting patiently before us. “If you practice.”

I huffed a sad laugh. “It’s not as easy for me as it is for you. Your magic deals with blood. Something physical. My magic is…ephemeral. It deals with intentions.”

“Physical and ephemeral.” He hummed, the sound mesmerizing. “Body and soul.”

The next laugh was real and free. “I guess you can say that.”

Zandyr looked at me expectantly, tilting his chin at the candle. “I showed you mine.”

“Are you that curious?”

“That confident you can do it.”

His confidence in me warmed my heart. This powerful prince thought I could be as strong as I wanted to.

It wouldn’t hurt to try it one last time.

I closed my eyes. Seeing Zandyr wouldn’t help with my concentration, not when his tunic had slipped to the side, revealing even more of his clavicle and giving me a peek at the dragon’s fangs clamping around the back of his neck.

Focus .

I imagined a pocket of power inside of me, sewn tightly shut to keep its destructive tendencies at bay. I pictured the candle right before me.

Waiting.

Taunting.

I shook my head.

None of that.

Focus .

Control.

I concentrated on the beating of my heart, which still ran wild from remembering my brush with death. Maybe I could use it to my advantage.

Each time my power had burst through, my emotions had been hectic. Fear, embarrassment, anger.

The hint of dread ghosting through me right now wasn’t real. I was removed from danger.

I was in my room with Zandyr. Safe.

I let that thought sink deeper and deeper into me. It burned away the remnants of terror, until they were nothing but distant, retreating throbs.

Each of them unraveled a strand in the pocket. The light began to glow, heating up my chest.

My fingers dug harder into the top of my thighs.

That’s it , a part of me said gleefully. Slowly. You can do this .

Maybe if I told that to myself enough times, I might actually believe it.

The tendrils slipped out. Slowly. Cautiously. Waiting to be directed.

By me.

Light the candle .

Nothing happened. The tendrils trembled, but didn’t move.

My forehead hurt from frowning so hard. Distantly, I could hear my teeth gnashing together.

I want to light the candle .

The tendrils began to move from deep inside me.

Slow. Slooooow .

The warmth slid down my arms, searching.

I flexed my palms open.

Steadily, I felt them flowing from my hands.

Then they zapped straight ahead and I smelled smoke.

My eyes flew open.

The candle had been lit, its wick blazing. But the tendrils still coursed toward it. The fire rose.

No, come back .

The tendrils didn’t retreat.

I clenched my jaw tighter, taking a deep breath.

I told you to come back. Come back to me. I command you .

The tendrils seared the breath out of my lungs as they withdrew in one painful plunge, straight into my chest. Blue light coursed through me.

I blinked the sting away, struggling to readjust my vision.

When the room came back into focus, the candle flickered and Zandyr smiled my way.

“I did it,” I whispered, not truly believing. But there it was. My power had done that. Most importantly, it had retreated deep inside me, in that small pocket I’d imagined.

I’d controlled my power.

Nobody got hurt.

“You did it beautifully,” Zandyr said and I heard the pride in his voice. Or maybe it was surprise.

I didn’t care. “Victory!”

The next thing I knew, I threw myself into his arms, hands wrapping around his neck. He reclined back to the floor, with me on top of him. Our laughter blended together.

I steadied myself on my arms above him. My hair draped over my shoulders, cocooning us in our own little universe.

“You showed that candle who’s queen.” His laughter melted away.

I suddenly became aware that our chests touched and that my lips were tantalizingly close to his. My gaze flickered between his eyes and mouth, as the candle behind us cast long shadows on the floor.

My body burned, but not with magic.

With longing.

With desire.

With the unshakable need to lean down further into his embrace.

His right hand rose and tucked a strand of wild hair behind my ear. The simple touch ignited me more, the small space between us simmering with a deep yearning that nestled itself into my chest.

“Tell me this is a bad idea. Tell me to get up,” he whispered, eyes darkening. His chest fell and rose against mine, and, gods, the sensation was exquisite. “Tell me to leave and never come back.”

“Don’t leave.”