Page 48 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Forty-Eight

EVIE

I walked alongside the most dangerous Clan heir in all of Malhaven, my arm wrapped around his powerful arm, feeling the muscles coil underneath his leather armor.

The air tasted sweet and full of promise.

A chorus of night birds accompanied our silent steps as we hurried down the empty back streets.

The moon winked at us from between the trees, our partner in crime for this midnight escapade.

A perfect, beautiful, romantic evening with the man I would marry in a week.

Then why, in all of Malhaven, was I concerned?

“Someone’s in a very good mood,” I said. Zaryn even walked differently. Still confident, but more relaxed. Same as Adara. Had we all heard the same words from the Oracle?

“I am,” he said. “You’re officially no longer a threat. No more guards at your fence day and night, the Capital no longer doubting your motives, the king and queen no longer pestering me with questions. It was a good night.”

“No more doubts for you, either, then.”

“I haven’t had those in a long time. The question is, dear menace–” He stopped and faced me, not taking his hand away from mine. “Why aren’t you happier? You’ve dazzled the Clan and the civilians, laid their worries to rest, and came out victorious.”

True, all true. However… “The Oracle said my heir will come from a traitor’s blood.”

The high of passing the advisors’ test was waning, and I was left with too many questions wrestling for answers I didn’t have. The Oracle had also said my closest would make me suffer. It was all very confusing.

“Who knows what she sees as betrayal? She’d probably call me a traitor for trying to intervene in the ritual.” Zandyr clenched his jaw. “It shouldn’t have hurt. I felt your agony.”

“You tried to protect me.” Which warmed my heart, it did, even though this connection between us was new and strange.

“And I always will, no matter what happens.” He trailed his fingers along the back of my hand. “As for being a traitor…one of the benefits of true fated mates is that we can betray everyone else, but never each other. If either of us turns to treason in our lifetimes, then at least we know it’s in the interest of us .”

That little ball of worry that had been coiling inside me loosened. Us . He couldn’t betray me. “ If we’re fated mates.”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “ If .”

“The Oracle did say I’d wear a crown of tears and treason.”

A frown slashed Zandyr’s happiness. “When? I didn’t hear that.”

“When she leaned down,” I said, but Zandyr’s brows furrowed even more. “Maybe it was just for my ears. It’s not like I got anything tangible from it. Just…”

That love would betray me. But not Blood Brotherhood. And Zandyr was the embodiment of his Clan.

“Just what?”

“That one decision could send me to an early grave.”

Zandyr’s lips tightened. “The Oracle has a habit of making you question. But you don’t need to worry.”

His free hand hovered in the air, as if he wanted to touch me so badly, but refrained. A slow, open smile bloomed on his face, taking my breath away.

Zandyr was a gorgeous man, always, but joy looked best on him. “She also told me my heir will be a girl. And that I will wait a long, long time for her. You know what that means?”

I shook my head, even as my heart fluttered in my throat.

“That you will live a long life. You. Will. Live.” Me. Not him, not us. Me . His eyes shined with a victory neither of us had won, but one which he fully believed in. It was as if the Oracle’s words had soothed that frantic part of him that wanted to defend me at all costs. “I will not rest until the world will be a safe place for that little heir. Which will take a long, long time.”

I sighed in relief. I was not ready for a child yet. I almost was one a few months back; at least that’s how it felt. But seeing– feeling –Zandyr so excited about that hazy future that glimmered with hope was, dare I say it, promising.

He tucked my hand closer to his body and began walking again. “Are you ready for your surprise?”

A small wall of trailing plants greeted us, peppered with blooming flowers that drew me in with their sweet scent. Little lights flickered from behind the canopy.

Zandyr swept the plant curtain to the sides, revealing a small stone pavilion resting on top of a hill. Purple roses climbed on its twisted pillars, which had the mark of centuries past etched in the small cracks.

I sucked in a breath. I broke in a run up the stone steps, dragging Zandyr by the hand as I went. His low chuckle chased after me.

Grandpa Constantine had been right. It was real .

I only slowed as I reached the hallowed basis of the pavilion. I looked up and up at the face of the woman who’d started it all.

The Protectorate.

The First Family.

The Clan war with the Blood Brotherhood.

The Stolen Princess who’d shaken the entire continent with her might.

Adriana “Dria” Vegheara. The Blood Brotherhood had indeed erected her statue. Carved in white marble, with little silver veins spidering over her arms and face, there she stood, in all her glory. Her formidable gaze looked in the distance, as if watching over her armies. Her right hand was tensed, fingers curled, ready to hurl a bolt of power toward her enemies. Her hair blew in the eternal air, as she stood proud against all the hurdles she’d faced.

Behind the pavilion, an impressive magnolia tree was in full bloom. But its flowers weren’t normal. They glowed in a light that couldn’t decide whether it was silver or gold. It reminded me a bit of the other crown Leesa had shown me, indecisive in its shade. The glow turned the entire small hill into a haven. Soft petals detached from the branches, falling gracefully. Dria looked like she stood in a rain of jewels.

Zandyr had found it and had brought me here to see it. This gorgeous, dangerous man hid his kindness well.

I stood there, awed. “You really did it. You carved Dria in your mighty Citadel.”

“She was the greatest enemy our Clan has ever faced, she deserved to be immortalized. Though few know she is here,” Zandyr said softly from behind me. “Now do you see the resemblance?”

“That damn stubborn chin.” I laughed and touched mine gingerly. I loved it. It made me feel closer to the First Family I’d been torn from. Dria’s blood coursed through my veins. I shouldn’t forget that.

Ever.

Zandyr leaned down, his lips ghosting across the shell of my ear. “It’s more than that. Look at how she stands. Powerful. Courageous. That’s how you are.”

There was no stopping my blush now. The words, the closeness, his warmth pulsing against me…“I still have a long way to go to reach her might.”

He cupped my cheek, turning my face to him. His chest molded to my back, enveloping me in that sensation that was all him. Strong. Confident. Safe.

“That is how I see you,” he whispered against my lips.

A question burned at the back of my throat. I shouldn’t break this moment. I really, really shouldn’t–

“If I didn’t have the famed Vegheara blood, would you still have looked at me like you’re doing now?” Like he wanted to devour me whole.

The doubt had been itching at the back of my thoughts for weeks. Would he, Zandyr “The Dragon” Rohenstorm, the great heir to the Rohen dynasty, have even looked my way if I hadn’t been First Family? I still remembered what the guests had whispered at my failed wedding. What the advisors had blatantly murmured in the throne room.

Plain and small.

Not interesting enough past the wedding night , Valuta had hissed.

I could stare in the mirror at how my cheeks had rounded and my eyes had lit up all day long.

Those comments still lingered.

“In the throne room, when I met the advisors, you said you’d never touch me,” I whispered. “In any way.”

After I found out about the cool charade we had to play in front of them, the logical side of me understood. And yet…

The blue in his eyes sparked as his face tightened with that otherworldly air that used to make me feel so unbalanced when we’d first met. Now, it only drew me in, like a moth to a godsdamned flame.

“In any way your former groom would have,” he bit out. “You’d just asked me if I’d attack you.”

“You’re right. It’s just…” Back then, I’d been in that hazy, alarmed state after my wedding massacre and being thrust into the glistening world of the Blood Brotherhood I’d been taught to fear worse than the underworld.

A different Evie must have endured all of that and come out living. Logically, I knew I was stronger. But after a lifetime of being told I was wrong and not enough, detaching myself from those lies was difficult.

Zandyr waited patiently for me to gather my thoughts.

“You say we might be fated mates,” I began, unsure. Standing here in the shadow of Dria’s magnificence gave me courage. “I want to believe. I want the legends to be true.”

“I want that too. And they can be,” he said. “Our blood can sing for the other.”

I bit my lower lip. Gods, I wanted to believe that this–us–could be real. More real than a contract our parents had signed, than fate ramming us together, than duty and honor and everything else clinging to us.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” His hushed words pulsed through me. “Do you, menace?”

Me ? What about him? Haunting my dreams with searing kisses, making me want to wake up every day next to him, hear his soft breaths in the morning and his heated groans at night as he tasted my skin.

Torture. Delicious, alluring torture that I couldn’t get enough of.

Time stretched as Zandyr captured my lips in a gentle, teasing kiss. I melted back against him, one of my hands coiling around his neck.

I’d missed this. This madness that took hold of me whenever his mouth was on mine, demanding and certain. The teasing swipes of his tongue against my lips. The small groan that reverberated from the back of his throat into me as I gave him access.

He pressed his large palm against my stomach and pulled me against him. And I felt all of him, big and straining against the base of my spine. A shameless moan tore from my lungs as my back arched against him.

Whatever semblance of decorum this pavilion should have instilled in me was gone. Ancestors forgive me, but here I was, shamelessly dripping for the prince they’d warned me about. And wanting more.

His palm slid from my cheek down to my neck, thumb resting against my pulse point. In the dead of night, he’d ravaged me with kisses that had left me shaking and moaning with want. But this small touch felt more intimate than all the thrashing in our bed.

Because I let him touch my neck. Hold it. It was more a gesture of trust than passion, but it scorched my senses and hardened my nipples all the same.

“Do you feel it?” His urgent whisper brushed my ear as his teeth nipped at my earlobe. He gripped my hips, as he pressed himself harder against me. Gods help me, I pressed back, another moan falling from my lips. “Do you feel how much I want you?”

“Yes,” I moaned.

“Good girl.” He kissed my forehead, not stopping the torturous sway of his hips. “I think about you constantly. I can’t get you out of my mind no matter how hard I try. I crave your presence every waking moment and curse the gods when you are not with me. The memory of your smiles keeps me company wherever I go, and I always want more. I can’t even rest without you by my side. What you do to me shouldn’t be possible. And yet, it is.”

It seemed I wasn’t the only one unhinged tonight.

Suddenly, the connection pulled taught, then contracted, meshing us together.

I felt him. The torrent of sensation he’d tried to keep leashed from me.

So he wouldn’t overwhelm me with his desire for me . I felt that, as clear as if I’d thought it myself. I didn’t exactly read his mind, just his intentions.

And his intentions were anything but tame when it came to me.

Flashes of us tangled in bedsheets, sweat gathering in the valley of my breasts as he drove into me over and over again, his name a prayer on my reddened lips. The dragon tattoo moved as he tensed his muscles, throwing his head back.

The real me gasped as Zandyr turned me around to face him, claiming my lips once more. His palm snaked to the back of my head, fingers twisting in my hair and messing up whatever was left of my intricate braids. It felt like he was touching the back of my mind, twirling more depraved images at the cusp of my consciousness.

Tempting me.

His head between my thighs, my hands tugging on his hair, nails digging into his back.

Me on top, riding him, my untamed hair illuminated by the moon like I was a goddess incarnate.

Zandyr ripped his mouth away from mine, licking the column of my neck. I felt the barest brush of his teeth, and it drove me wild.

It made me careless. Senseless. Like I wanted to play with this flame some more, see how hard it could burn.

“Imagine how it would feel when you’re inside of me,” I muttered, self-conscious to the point of wanting to crawl out of my skin.

But Zandyr liked that. Oh, he’d liked that very much.

He growled against my throat, palms tightening on my hips. His lips stopped a breath away from mine, as he whispered ferociously, “You want to find out? Say the word and I’m yours. I’ll show you exactly how good it feels to have me inside of you.”

This time, it was I who snared a kiss from him and didn’t let go. Like I wanted to inhale the very essence of him. We were a tangle of tongues and teeth and lips and sighs, and gods, I never wanted it to end. It should have been immoral and illegal to want another being as much as I wanted Zandyr in this moment.

The flashes in my mind started to morph again. Gone was the all-encompassing, consuming lust, replaced with hazy little images of the two of us cuddling in bed together.

Laughing.

Walking hand in hand.

Perfect little memories we hadn’t yet created.

Then it all went dark.

Gone were the images, the flutters, the presence of him in me.

Zandyr pulled back, even as I gave a moan of protest. He breathed heavily, licking his lips. “Enough for tonight.”

What in the–

I fell back on my heels, not even aware I had been standing on my toes to reach up and…and what? Climb him like a tree, that’s what.

My cheeks heated up again, this time with mortification. “Did I–did I do something wrong?”

From the way his gaze kept roaming all over me, I didn’t think so, but for someone who lacked any and all romantic experience, it was always a possibility. Gods, why did these doubts keep tormenting me?

“No, no, no.” He cupped my face again, but his touches were gentle now. “I promised you slow, and I will deliver.”

“Oh,” I said, not able to keep the dejection out of my tone. Since when had I become this lustful little thing?

“None of that.” He tilted my chin up, capturing my gaze. “I think I have proven how much I crave you. Or do you want another demonstration? I’d be happy to oblige.”

I shook my head, a ghost of a smile tugging at my puffy lips. The lips he’d puffed up with his kisses and his tongue and–

If we started again, I might actually start begging right here, in front of Dria’s statue.

“We can wait,” I mumbled.

“Good.” He kissed my forehead again, but it was gentle and soft and slow this time. And damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d done all night.

“Now.” He cleared his throat and shook his head, as if wanting to dissipate the cloud of lust that had overtaken us. “I didn’t bring you here for a night of debauchery–”

A part of me sighed in disappointment.

“–I actually have something for you.” From inside his armor’s breast pocket, he pulled out a red envelope. It had a silver wax seal on it, with the dragon crest of the Rohen dynasty.

“This is my wedding letter,” Zandyr said softly. “To be burned, unopened, when we seal out futures together.”

I gulped. The letters. The ones in which we had to write our feelings for each other, only to be turned to ash after we said our vows.

I’d totally forgotten.

He placed the letter in my palm with gravity, as if he was entrusting me with a little part of him. This envelope, all crisp crimson lines, held the secrets of his mind. At least when it came to me.

Xamor almighty, I wanted to rip the seal off and read every single word and dot.

“I wanted to give it to you last night, but we got sidetracked,” Zandyr said when the silence between us stretched. “I know you probably didn’t have time to write yours–”

“I will,” I said with absolute conviction. I pressed the letter to my chest. “And I won’t open it.”

“Good.” It might have been my overworked imagination, but I heard the smallest sigh of relief in that one word. “I won’t open yours, either. Better to find out for ourselves what the other feels, no?”

“Unless we really start reading our thoughts.” If mere glimpses of his psyche, the ones he let me see, had left me with this deep desire for more, how would it feel when– if –we truly could read each other’s minds?

“Then, truly, all doubts will vanish.” He sighed, then let out a mock scoff that dissipated the tension. It was time to play again. “Listen to her, thinking I wouldn’t want her without the Vegheara blood. If anything, it’s a liability.”

“Hey!” I pointed a stern finger at him playfully. “No insulting our families. Especially not in front of Dria.”

Zandyr bowed toward the statue. “My apologies, oh-great-Stolen-Princess. I meant no harm.”

A bubble of laughter escaped me, even as the envelope felt heavier in my hands.

Could I resist the temptation of opening it until the wedding? Even worse–would I find the courage to lay down my own feelings in a letter to Zandyr and trust he wouldn’t read them?

That’s all it boiled down to with us, didn’t it? Trust.

Even as my very being wanted to believe, the Oracle’s words echoed in my mind.

You will suffer more .