Page 67

Bria

I t’s excruciating—physically painful to be sitting at a table with the man responsible for my father’s death and sitting next to the man who captured my sister.

The other...well, the high priest is debatably the worst of the three.

He has so much blood on his hands, blood of the innocents he has drugged and left in the dungeons for the capital’s use.

I am doing everything in my control to just get through breakfast without raining a storm of beastly shadows down on the men to tear them to shreds.

By the way Father Mallory looks at me, I can tell he feels my energy thrumming inside.

He’s been around enough people with power to recognize it for what it is.

Whereas others seem to disregard the heat, the jolt of electricity that pours out of me at times, the flicker of magical flames in my eyes—he’s eating it up.

I loathe the man and feel a sense of relief when he says Ev must take the rite.

At least I won’t have to travel to the temple on my own today or be alone with him.

I worry how long I can keep my gifts in check around more men like him.

Evander appears at ease throughout the meal, but I’m not foolish enough to believe the facade he wears.

There’s a reason he survived here for four years.

He’s learned to erect a wall around his emotions and drop a mask into place, one that shows the king’s court and the priests what they want to see.

Because of that, he is well trusted. He is the reason this is working, not me.

I force myself to eat as the priest drones about Vaohr and how much it means when the unworthy give themselves over like I am.

The food is fantastic but even the scone lands like lead in my stomach.

I catch myself wondering why Aamon doesn’t just drug the food.

It would be easier than getting close to me.

The deadly berries of the nightshade have a seductively sweet taste, or so I’ve heard. But Ev had said something about dosing last night. Could the priests not determine the correct dosage in food? Or was the ask of Evander a test of his faithfulness to the Crown? Maybe it was both.

“Commander Keating, perhaps you could bring our dear Lady Bria for a stroll around the grounds whilst I speak with my son?” Aamon looks toward Luthais as he speaks, and the man nods in acknowledgement.

This request doesn’t appear to come as a surprise to him, but it does to me. And to Evander. Tension ripples off him with his father’s words. He doesn’t want me alone with Luthais and has made that abundantly clear to me.

Aamon stands, pushing his chair back, Father Mallory remaining seated beside him. “I hope you enjoy the weather, and your trip to the temple, my lady.” Aamon partially bows toward me, effectively kicking me out of the room. “I shall see you tonight, when we have dinner with the king.”

I’ve kept my mouth shut all breakfast regarding Nimai, but now I can no longer contain myself. How had he not said a word about her? Especially while the old man talked for what seemed like hours about their ridiculous god, the temple, and the fucking rite.

“Thank you, Captain Lansing. It will be an honor,” I purr, forcing my face into a polite smile. I rise from my chair as well, followed by the men seated to either side of me.

“And will my sister be joining us? I am so very desperate to see her.” The sweet and unassuming voice that comes out of me is not my own and it makes me sick to hear it.

Aamon’s jaw twitches. He must have expected me to ask about Nimai. But it bothers him, nonetheless. Luthais talks before the captain can fix his face back to the normal cool composure he wears.

“Lady Nimai has also been invited to dinner with the king.” That honeyed voice drips over my skin, and I turn to face Luthais.

“I accompanied your sister here,” he continues, though by “accompanied” I know he means he kidnapped her and dragged her here unwillingly. “Come, let’s walk and I can fill you in on how she’s been doing here at the capital.” He extends his arm toward me, his elbow crooked for me to take.

Holding my breath, I move to hook my arm in his, but feel Evander close his hand around my elbow, his grip tight.

Spinning me toward him, he pulls me close, wrapping his free arm around the back of my head, his fingers digging into my hair.

The rough movement sends a flutter through my stomach as he brushes a soft kiss across my lips before placing his mouth next to my ear.

“Breathe,” he reminds me. “Keep it in.” He plants another kiss on my cheek and pulls back, releasing my hair, but it feels like his eyes remain intently on me while I turn toward Luthais.

“What a happy couple,” Father Mallory croons from behind us.

All eyes are on me as I stride toward Luthais. Waiting for any misstep, any suggestion that I am not who I claim to be. I slide my arm into his and walk out the door, arm in arm with my sister’s captor.