Page 77

Flames itch at my palms despite the warm wine flooding my veins, mingling with the whisky. I don’t dare look down for fear the shadows will swirl if I acknowledge my magic. Better to force it to rest.

“Nimai,” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat, only allowing her name to cross my lips. It feels as if my throat is seared, like the fire inside has risen up and singed it.

Her eyes. I can’t fully discern how badly she’s impacted from the drugs but the look in her eyes tells me she’s in there—a field of green set alight, sparkling with hints of fire.

Perhaps she’s fighting the effects of the nightshade, but I’m not positive she is strong enough to do that.

She has merely a day left before her birthday, and I remember how my gifts started in fits and bursts leading up to that day.

Evander’s fingers loosen on my leg as he starts speaking, trailing them along the edge of the slit, finding the opening and moving to touch bare skin.

My stomach tightens with the boldness of it, his hand skimming high up on my thigh.

It will be noticeable to Father Mallory if he looks over, but Ev doesn’t care. He’s trying to quell the flames.

“I think Bria is just a bit shocked to see you after so long, Nimai. You’ve grown so much.” His voice is tender as he talks to her. “Even I can’t believe you’re here.”

He reaches across to the bottle of wine on the table in front of him, refilling his glass.

I’m sure he will push it to me as soon as he can and though I want my wits about me, I also understand his urgency.

The surge of magic pulsing through my body seems to be keeping the alcohol from having much of an impact.

Her voice is a spring breeze floating across my skin—light and soft, making me feel warm inside when she talks. She is no longer the child who was ripped away from me five years ago. This is the voice of a woman. One of purity and power. It’s what I imagine Kiara sounded like.

“Neither can I.” Her words come out slowly as she looks at Ev, sounding like someone who has just woken from a long slumber. But her gaze flicks quickly back to me, holding me hostage in those green depths. “Hello, B.”

Hot tears sting the back of my eyes, fighting to spring free.

No one has called me that since my father died.

Only the two of them ever used the nickname and grief washes over me when I hear it, threatening to drown me with the lost years, the time we’ve been separated.

I open my mouth, gulping down air to keep myself afloat.

There is so much I want to say to my sister, but we have eyes on us. Luthais is watching Nimai, and I can feel Aamon and Father Mallory’s stares boring into me now. But they are broken with the booming voice that echoes off the massive walls.

“Please rise for His Majesty, King Braddock.” The servants are announcing the king’s arrival, readying to open the doors once more.

I have to tear my gaze from Nimai as Luthais pulls her to her feet.

He holds tight to her, spinning her body around as if she’s floating on air.

The others stand and Ev’s hand leaves my leg to wrap back around my waist, hauling me to my feet.

He tugs my body flush against his side and shoves the glass of wine toward me.

I gulp it down, hoping this is the last I will need.

As I hand the glass back to him, the doors open before me and there he is. The king.

To be honest, he’s different than what I expected, having thought the man who waged war against me—against people like me—would be a sniveling little thing.

But he is tall and graceful as he strides into the room, the deep blue velvet cape he wears swinging behind him.

The crown atop his head is solid gold, embedded all around with sapphires and diamonds.

He reeks of authority, and I can immediately understand how he has commanded thousands to follow him and the foolish god his family conjured.

He’s a natural leader with a kind face and trusting features.

Even though I know that the entire foundation upon which his kingdom rests to be untrue, I can still see it, see how they would listen to a man like him.

We remain standing while he makes himself comfortable at the head of the table, removing the cape to reveal a tunic that nearly matches Nimai—a fine cream fabric dripping in gold accents.

Had it been done on purpose? Or was she just dressed in the preferred colors of the king?

There is gold all over the castle, the man clearly loves it.

He makes a sweeping gesture and everyone begins to sit.

Evander yanks me down nearly on top of him, keeping his chair close, touching mine.

Nimai slumps a bit as Luthais lowers her and I flinch.

I hadn’t noticed it when she first came in, too distracted by her stunning beauty and the pure shock of her standing in front of me, but I can see it now.

They’ve tried to cover it up with makeup.

Below her right eye is a blossoming bruise, a tinge of blue across her pale skin, barely holding a tan from her life in the south.

They’ve hurt her. My eyes shoot to Luthais at her side.

It must have been him. He has been assigned to guard her, and he’s the one who captured her.

Stole her away in the middle of the night from her own bed and set fire to the southern camp.

And now she’s forced to sit next to the man who beat her and did gods know what else to her.

The edges of my vision are swirling a bit.

The wine is coursing through me but along with it is a river of fire.

A flush begins in my chest and travels steadily up my neck.

My hands begin to ache, and I clench and unclench them, trying to relieve the tension.

The crescent moons of my fingernails dig into the skin of my palms. Breathe , I hear Evander’s whispers in my head and try to listen.

Evander’s hand seeks my leg once again, grazing his fingers along where the slit is open so they can rest against my skin. Then Aamon speaks.

“Your Majesty, may I present to you Lady Nimai and Lady Bria, both daughters of the late Lord Saldhene.” The words pierce my skin like daggers.

How dare he utter a single word about my father.

Aamon may not have killed him with his own hands, but it was on his orders that the estate was attacked.

And he was backed by the man sitting to my right, and the king himself.

I dip my head as I answer the introduction, “Your Majesty,” and hear my sister do the same. Our voices collide across the space between us.

The curve of my nails sinks deeper, biting into my skin. I’m certain there will be jagged half-moons on my palms if I release them, but it’s pulling my focus.

Ev’s hand moves, tracing the inside of my thigh with his fingers and creeping up toward the hem.

A different kind of fire creeps along with his fingers and settles between my legs.

My core aches, wanting him to keep moving his hand upward and at the same time being extremely aware we are not in private.

Not by a long shot. And where his hand is?

That is not something you do in public. Especially not in the presence of the king and the high priest. But even with that knowledge, my body is still reacting, dampening beneath his touch.

My eyes dart to him, but his are on the king and he ignores my glance, skimming down the edge of the slit and back up again.

I’m well aware of what he is doing. Providing a distraction, quieting the roaring fire inside.

And he knows it. I leave his hand there, letting it roam around the edges of my gown, feeling it slide a bit further each time it passes the hem, sending a jolt through my body with every stroke.

My hands unclench though, and the prickling in my fingertips recedes as I relax under his touch.

I move my attention back to the king, who is watching Nimai. His hazel eyes gleam at her, taking in the unbelievable perfection in front of him. She is gorgeous, radiant in the white gown that contrasts so perfectly with her dark hair and bright eyes.

“I’m so pleased the two of you are here, that you have chosen to serve both the Crown and Vaohr.” His voice is rich and deep, gliding over us as smooth as the caress of a lover.

Father Mallory pipes in, breaking through the haze I feel my mind becoming enveloped in. “Both halves of the prophecy, the light and dark that were stolen from Vaohr. Returned at last to our god and kingdom.”

So that’s where they are going with this.

Turning the prophecy to meet their own needs.

Not acknowledging that the whole point of the prophecy is to bring the world out of this reign, this centuries-long ruling of corrupt kings, and into a new world.

To push forth change. But they believe if they have us in their grasp, then the world—their kingdom—will not be overthrown.

That they can use us to forge their own path, to solidify their hold.

Father Mallory’s gaze slices across the space from Nimai to me before they flick to my lap.

To where Evander’s hand is disappearing under the hem of my skirt.

I almost snatch his hand away, to hide it from the priest’s view.

But I think better of it and choose not to move an inch.

His touch is the only thing keeping me grounded.

Let him see. Let him think I allow such bold action because of the sedation. He quirks a brow, but quickly averts his eyes and I sink further into my chair, allowing Ev’s fingers to drag down my skin. The priest tenses beside me and I notice his gaze roaming to us repeatedly, but I no longer care.

“From what I understand Father Mallory has informed you both of your duties, your expectations while you reside here in the capital. Is that so?” Braddock’s voice is disturbingly calming.