Page 155 of Brimstone

THE BLUE BOOKsat on Saeris’s nightstand in her rooms at Ammontraíeth. I avoided looking at it as best I could, but it was no easy thing, leashing my curiosity this way. I wouldn’t open the book. I wouldn’t even touch it. But the knowledge that my mother had written the entire thing made a hole burn right through my chest where my heart should have been.

Before Malcolm’s maze, there had been days when I had felt her presence so keenly that I’d known she was there, standing by the window, or sitting by a fireplace, reading a book. I had felt her there with me, walking the halls of the estate for years, and I had chastised myself for allowing myself such childish fantasies.

I think a part of me had known somehow that she was still there with me. I’d spoken to her often, whenever I was alone and didn’t think anyone would overhear. I would have paid anything, given anything to hear her speak back. And now there was an entire book written by her sitting not fifteen feet away—a chance to hear her voice again, in a way—and I would never be able to read what she had written in those pages, because they had not been written for me.

It was okay. I still had a childhood full of memories of my mother. They were enough to temper the sting of her loss. And it was only right that Saeris have her own private connection with Edina of the Seven Towers. My mother would have wanted it that way.

But the book. Was there something in there about Ren’s whereabouts? Maybe. Maybe I was worrying over nothing, and Ren was perfectly safe and riding back to Cahlish even now. Saeris had explained my mother’s request that she not read ahead in the book, so we couldn’t use it to discover where he was. When we’d left the estate an hour ago, I had charged Iseabail with scrying for the general to see if we could locate him that way. Scrying was a notoriously unreliable means of tracking a person, though, and we wouldn’t have any answers on that front until we could speak with the witch. So that meant suffering through this ball while trying not to worry ourselves sick.

“Well, this . . . this isridiculous.” Saeris looked deeply uncomfortable as she ran her hands down the front of her dress. The selkie seamstress who had made the dress for her had stitched herintoit only moments ago. She had left, glowing with pride over the masterpiece she had created, and the second Saeris’s chamber door had closed behind her, my mate had begun trying to claw her way out of the garment.

I sat on the chaise, legs stretched out in front of me, arms extended and resting on the back of the chair, appreciating the sight of my mate looking decidedly queenly. “You’re beautiful,” I told her. Even I was aware that the register of my voice dipped whenever we were alone. The dark, predatory part of me pulled at its fetters, wishing to be free and held unaccountable for the acts of depravity it would commit without the steady hand of restraint holding it by the collar.

Mine.

She wasmine. And sometimes, the urge to throw her over a table and fuck her raw in front of everyone so thattheywould know that was too much to fucking bear. My cock stirred in my pants just thinking about it.

Saeris cast a questioning glance over her shoulder, a knowing smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “And what’sthatI smell?” she asked, in a playfully innocent tone.

“The same scent I used to catch rolling offyouevery second we were alone together in the Winter Palace,” I rumbled. I took my time rising from the chaise and moving toward her. I wanted to take her in. Wanted to savor that moment when her eyes dilated, her arousal tinged with a little panic.

Her face was tilted toward me, her lips slightly parted in anticipation of a kiss . . . but I positioned myself behind her and placed my hands on her hips, angling them forward.

“Face the mirror,” I commanded.

Saeris huffed, disappointed, I thought, but she did as I had instructed.

We stood together there, reflected in the glass: two pale creatures, both raven-haired, one with eyes of blue, the other green. Saeris’s arms were already covered by long silk gloves, made from the same material as her gown. Black as murder, and sin, and ink, and the void of the heavens on a midwinter night. It was the kind of dress I hadn’t seen since I was a Faeling, rustling around my mother’s skirts at one of the many balls my parents had held when I was young. I had always marveled at the finery of the folk in attendance—their long-tailed coats; the bustles; the corsets; the square-toed, buckled shoes; the scent of perfume heavy in the air.

“Look at yourself,” I told my mate. The tailor had wanted to apply makeup to her face, and Saeris had balked at that. They’d gone to war over the matter, but eventually, Saeris had allowed a touch of pink blush for her cheeks and a little mascara for hereyelashes. You could barely tell she was wearing anything at all. Her skin was flawless, cheekbones high, eyes bright and clear. And the dress . . .

Her waist was already narrow, but the corset top cinched her in tight. The décolletage was devastatingly low, cupping her breasts so that her cleavage swelled every time she breathed. The skirts were fuller than was fashionable in other Fae courts, more traditional, but they made Saeris look regal.

Over her shoulder, the black evening attire I wore complimented her dress, embellished with the same velvet trim as her dress at cuff and collar.

Black on black on black.

My shadows spilled over her shoulder and up the column of her neck, caressing her, and Saeris’s breath stuttered, her skin forming goose bumps in reaction to my magic. I knewexactlywhat I was doing when I bent down and held her eye contact in the mirror, whispering softly into her ear.

“A lesser male would sink his teeth into you right here and now and fuck you until you screamed.”

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. I could see her pulse thrumming in the hollow of her throat. “A lesser female wouldbegyou to,” she answered.

Oh, my Little Osha. She knew how to walk a dangerous line. “It wouldn’t be wise to provoke me to action, Osha. Not with you looking like this. I do love to mar a pretty thing.”

“Is that so?”

I replaced my shadows with my hand, curling my fingers lightly around her throat. “Mm-hmm.”

“And how would you marme?” she whispered.

I had a feeling she would ask. Running my tongue over my canines, I fisted a handful of her skirts and lifted them, hitching them up to her waist. I had to repeat the action twice more before I’d wrangled all the layers of tulle below and pinned it inmy left hand. It was a shame to release her neck—I loved the sensation of her pulse flying against my palm—but I was in grave need of my other hand. Saeris watched me slide it down her body in the mirror, her pupils swallowing her irises as I stroked her exposed thighs, growling in approval when I found that she had my dagger strapped to her thigh again.

“Good girl, Saeris.”

“If you only mean . . . to see if I’m armed, then . . . I could have saved you the time and told y—Oh, gods!” Her mouth fell open. I hadn’t wasted any time. Her black silk panties were pulled aside, and I was sliding my fingers through her slick folds. She let out another breathless curse as I stroked her clit, her legs already starting to shake.

Good.