Page 36

Chapter

Thirty-Six

T he sun has long since set by the time I return to the palace. I bite my lip against the lingering pain in my abdomen as I hurry past the servants and guards. They’re the only people left walking the halls at this hour, and I do my best avoid bumping into any of them. They’d likely be confused if they got knocked to the ground by someone they couldn’t see.

My fingers tremble as I push open the door to the back stairwell that leads to my floor. I’ve done a plethora of foolish things in my life. Yet, killing the king’s chief adviser and hiding his body inside of a hollowed-out tree probably qualifies as the most idiotic. Despite that, I can’t bring myself to regret my actions. Not after what he did to Leona.

My mind swirls with too many emotions to name as I think about how many times he’d crossed my path in the last year. Every day I was forced to interact with him, all the while having no idea he was the one who murdered the woman I loved like a mother. Baylor may have given the order, but it was Kaldar who carried it out. It was his face that she saw in her final moments.

Whatever comes from my actions today, I’ll never regret ending his life. I only regret not dragging out his death and making it as painful as possible.

Finally, I reach my room and shut the door behind me, latching the lock to be sure no one else can enter before I drop my illusion.

“I’ve been waiting for hours.”

I spin around, my hand over my heart as I spot the intruder standing in the corner. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall next to the balcony. Despite the chill in the air, he wears no cloak tonight. It’s absence provides me with a tantalizing view of the way the fabric of his shirt stretches tightly over his muscular form. It’s only now that I become aware of the familiar sensation on the back of my neck, the one that always accompanies his presence.

Despite the uneasy way we left things, I can’t seem to stop myself from drinking in the sight of Thorne. Here. In my room… Memories of his other visits send a wave of heat creeping up my neck. It’s been a week since I’ve seen him, and I hate how relieved I am to find him here. Dark hair falls across his forehead, obscuring his eyes and giving him an air of danger. Several days’ worth of stubble covers his cheeks, which hasn’t happened since the night we met. What’s kept him too busy to shave?

His full lips curve into a grin when he notices me staring. Suddenly, every candle in my room flares to life, their flames illuminating the dark chamber as they highlight the smug gleam in Thorne’s eyes. I latch onto my new annoyance, preferring it to the longing I was feeling before.

I scowl. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Thorne asks.

“Showing off. It’s impolite.”

“I noticed you were squinting, and I thought I’d make it easier for you to ogle me,” he says innocently. “I believe thoughtfulness is the opposite of impolite.”

My hands move to my hips as my voice rises several octaves. “I wasn’t ogling you.”

“There’s that lying tongue I adore so much,” he says wistfully, his lips curving at the edges.

I glare at him. “While you’re at it, stop sneaking up on me too.”

His eyes narrow as they rake over the cloak hiding my body from his view. “I believe you’re the one who’s been sneaking. What have you been up to, Angel.”

I open my mouth to tell him it’s not his business, but for some reason, that’s not at all what comes out.

“I killed Kaldar,” I announce, my eyes bulging at my own admission.

Thorne’s expression remains unchanged as he continues to lean against the wall, completely unaffected by my confession.

“In the woods,” I add, as if that somehow makes it better.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

“He tried to kill me first.”

“You don’t need to explain.” He waves a hand, pushing himself away from the wall as he meanders over to my bookshelf. “If you killed him, you had a reason.”

My head tilts to the side. “You’re processing this information in a very calm manner. You do understand I just admitted to murdering the king’s adviser, don’t you?”

He picks up one of the romance novels from my shelf and flips through the pages. “The second time we met, you were hacking a man into pieces while he was trying to take a piss behind a bar.”

Indignation flares through me. “I waited till after he’d finished, thank you very much.”

“And then,” he continues, a smirk kicking up one side of his mouth, “you used his blood to do some finger painting on the wall.”

I shrug. That was the least of my crimes. “Your point?”

He turns to face me again, his expression earnest. “I’m not frightened of the violence inside of you. There’s no crime you could commit that would turn me away.”

My pulse stutters as my heart trips over itself at his words. The heat at my neck races to my cheeks, staining them to match my hair. No one has ever made such a vow to me…

My body is rigid as I try to hide the puzzling emotions swirling through me. I put one hand on my hip and narrow my gaze, hoping the gesture doesn’t look as awkward as it feels. “Not even if I did something truly heinous?”

“No.” He shakes his head, still watching me with that all seeing gaze. “But you would never do something like that. You’re too good.”

My nose wrinkles as genuine surprise overtakes everything else. “Me?”

He arches a brow. “Do you see anyone else here?”

“Really?” I ask, ignoring his quip. “You think I’m good ?”

“I know you are.”

My head tilts to the side. “How?”

“Because I’m not,” he says as he helps himself to the chair in the corner near my bed. His tone is matter-of-fact, but there’s a hint of sadness there that tells me he genuinely believes what he’s saying. “The lines I’m willing to cross would shock you.”

“Name one thing that would shock me,” I demand, positive he won’t be able to.

The sadness on his face fades, replaced with something wicked and predatory as he leans forward. “Sneaking into an innocent angels room, hoping to get a peek at her in a nightgown.”

I offer him a bland look as I pretend to be unaffected by his words. “How’s that working out for you?”

His eyes fill with mirth as his lips pull into a wide smile. He leans back in the chair, making himself comfortable as he props his hands behind his head. “Yet to be seen.”

Biting my lip to stop my own smile, I turn around and make for my vanity to begin cleaning myself up. I cringe at the mud staining my cloak as I slip it off and toss it onto the nearby settee.

A swift intake of breath comes from behind me, and a moment later, Thorne is standing before me. His eyes cloud with shadows as he stares at the giant bloodstain marking my dress.

“You’re hurt.” Every ounce of humor has vanished from his tone as his body goes rigid.

I shake my head, moving to step around him. “It’s nothing.”

He blocks my path, his fingers bunching into fists within his gloves. “Was it Kaldar?”

I nod, dropping my gaze to my feet.

“Let me see it,” he demands, his voice deeper unnaturally deep.

“No,” I whisper. “I’d have to remove my dress to show it to you.”

“I’ve seen your body before, Ivy. The image is seared into my brain.”

My cheeks darken as my pulse skitters once more. “This is different.”

Unperturbed by my refusal, he grabs hold of the soiled material and rips the silk with his bare hands. Given the circumstances, it shouldn’t be attractive, but I can’t deny the fact that my breath is coming faster after witnessing that.

My hands fly to my chest, ensuring the rest of my gown doesn’t receive the same treatment. The fabric that once covered my stomach now hangs in tatters, exposing my entire abdomen to the night air. Shivers dance over my skin, and I tell myself it’s merely from the chill.

If he notices my reaction, he doesn’t show it. His gaze is locked on the ugly wound. “How long ago did this happen?”

“This morning,” I tell him honestly.

His eyes darken even more as they connect with mine again. “Then why is it still bleeding?”

“Kaldar poisoned the blade,” I explain. “Whatever he laced it with slowed my healing.”

“Fucking bastard,” he swears through gritted teeth. “It goes all the way through?”

I nod. “He snuck up on me while I was taking flowers to the veil for Leona.”

His eyes widen with understanding, and perhaps a bit of sympathy. “Today is the one-year anniversary? I’m sorry, Ivy.”

My mouth opens to tell him I don’t deserve any apologies, but I snap it shut when I realize that’s exactly the kind of behavior he recently accused me of. Maybe he was right , I think as Thorne disappears into the bathing chamber. Maybe I do have a tendency to punish myself?

He returns a minute later, carrying a small basin of water and a clean rag. He places them on the vanity before taking a seat on the stool. His hands land on my hips as he positions me in front of him to get a better view of the injury on my stomach.

“This needs to be cleaned,” he explains.

Despite the gloves he wears, his hands are a brand against my skin.

“I can do this myself,” I mutter, feeling like a helpless child.

“Let me.” His gaze lifts, connecting with mine. “I want to do this for you.”

Several moments pass as we stare at each other, both of us affected by our close proximity. Unable to do anything else, I agree to his request.

“You can take those off,” I say softly, nodding to his gloves. “If you want to.”

A thousand emotions pass over his face as he watches me. His throat bobs, and he swallows thickly as he removes the gloves and sets them on the vanity.

My head falls back as his bare fingers brush over my stomach, sending a thousand tiny shockwaves through each nerve in my body. His eyes are hooded as he grabs the rag and gets to work. Despite how gentle he’s being, I still wince as he dabs the wet rag against my wound.

He opens his mouth to apologize as he snatches the cloth away, but I cut him off.

“It’s fine,” I whisper between gritted teeth. “I can take it.”

With one hand, he resumes his task, while the other sits on my hip, his thumb softly brushing back and forth over my bare skin. The movement elicits more of those shockwaves, distracting me from the pain.

“You’re so strong, Ivy.” His breath coasts over my stomach, the heat of it sparking goosebumps. “You take so much, and yet none of it breaks you.”

My chest clenches. “Some of it breaks me,” I admit in a small voice.

“No, Angel.” He shakes his head. “You may get knocked down sometimes, but if you were broken, you wouldn’t keep trying the way you do. You wouldn’t be doing everything you can to help others.”

My breathing turns heavy as I process his words. The way he sees me is… staggering. The fact that he views me as something worthy of respect, even admiration. Has anyone else ever done that before? Maybe Leona and Remy. Possibly my brother too. But this is different, heavier, somehow.

After a few minutes, he finishes with my stomach and turns me to face the opposite direction as he begins the same process on the other side.

“If any of the poison is lingering on your skin, it will only delay your healing more.” His voice is rougher than I’ve heard it before.

“I know.”

“Some of these bruises are pretty bad,” he says as his fingers brush softly over my back, eliciting a mix of desire and pain.

“I fell.”

“Through the veil?” he exclaims, turning me again to get a glimpse of my face.

“I’d be dead if that were the case,” I remind him. “Kaldar tried to drag me through with him, but I twisted and went over the side instead. I ended up laying on the forest floor for most of the day, completely paralyzed from the poison.”

I don’t mention how the wound burned for hours before the pain finally began to fade. I doubt he’d take kindly to that knowledge.

“Gods,” he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re going to give me a heart-attack someday.”

I roll my eyes, not sure that’s even possible for a God. When the wound is finally cleaned, I feel the soft press of his lips against my lower back. I shudder in his grasp, unsure if I want to move away or lean into his touch. Instead of doing either, I turn around to face him.

Thorne stares up at me, his eyes shifting with a myriad of emotions. There’s lust there, but also so much more.

“Can I stay?” he asks softly.

My heart stutters.

“Just to hold you?” he explains quickly, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his tone. “Only until you fall asleep. Then I’ll go.”

From the sound of it, I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself. Still, I find myself nodding at his request. His eyes go round as his mouth falls open, as if he truly didn’t expect me to agree. My gaze flits to the door. Maybe I shouldn’t have… I know it’s not smart, but at this moment, I’m not sure I care.

Stepping into the bathroom, I shut the door behind me before I remove my tattered dress. Quickly going about the business of rinsing off, I wash away the dirt and blood that covered my body. My hands tremble as I think about who’s waiting for me in my room.

The idea of spending the night with Thorne is far more tempting than it should be. I open the cabinet that houses my sleepwear and find myself selecting a wine-colored nightgown. The thin material is practically sheer, hiding little of my body underneath. My palms sweat as I stare at the result in the mirror, searching for the boldness that usually comes naturally to me.

Forcing my feet toward the door, I crack it open slightly and peek through the gap. Thorne stands with his back to me, and my mouth falls open at the sight of so much bare skin. His shirt lies discarded on the nearby chair, but his pants remain on, hanging low from his hips. My eyes are immediately drawn to the dark ink splayed across his shoulder blades, the lines forming the shape of wings. My eyebrows shoot up as I realize this is where he hides them when they aren’t being used.

My heart cracks as I notice the slightly raised scars that linger around the top of the tattoos. It takes a lot to leave a mark on an immortal. Hatred boils within my veins, heating my skin as I think about how I’d punish the men who did this to him. They’d beg for death before I was through with them.

The savagery raging inside of me cools slightly as I notice the hunched set to his shoulders as he stares at my bed. He almost appears unsure of himself. Insecure…

Sleeping next to someone is something he’s probably never had the opportunity to do. It would be too dangerous since his skin could accidentally brush against theirs. The idea of him lying in bed next to some hypothetical person has my face scrunching up with a mix of jealousy and disgust. Gods, I need to get a hold of my emotions tonight…

He turns at the sound of my approach, his brows shooting up as his gaze crawls over my body, lingering in all the most interesting places. My cheeks turn pink as my nightgown has its intended effect.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes.

His words make me strangely shy. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who hands out compliments like that often, so receiving them from him feels important. Special.

And that makes me so deeply nervous. The last time I believed someone thought I was special, I was wrong. And I wasn’t the only one who paid the price for my poor judgment.

I lock those worries behind the bars of my mental prison. Scurrying over to the other side of the bed, I climb in and pull the blankets up to my chin. After a few moments, he follows my lead and slips into the other side. Several minutes pass as we both remain silent, neither of us touching each other as we stare up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I summon the courage to ask the question that has been weighing heavily on my mind all week.

“Why did you ask for my freedom?”

The bed shifts as he tenses next to me.

“I’m not trying to argue,” I clarify quickly. “I genuinely want to know why you choose that when you could have asked Baylor for anything.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before he responds, his voice brimming with soft sincerity. “Because I wish someone had stepped in to help my mother.”

The simple answer makes my heart ache for him. The guilt he still carries over what happened to her is palpable.

“What was she like?” I ask quietly, unsure if this is a subject he feels comfortable discussing.

He remains silent, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer me, but then he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“When she was herself, she was warm. Funny.” I can hear the smile in his voice, but it fades with his next words. “But once the enchanter started giving her his potions, she changed. She became prone to these sudden changes in mood. She’d swing from one emotion to the next, unable to calm herself down. It was like that for a long time before everything finally ended.”

“What happened to the enchanter after you got away?” I ask.

“He serves the God of Life now.”

“Leland?” I gasp, rolling over to face him as I recall the adviser who accompanied Foley to the ball. “It was him?”

He nods, his jaw tight. “He’s worked in many courts over the years, but right now, he serves Eyrkan.”

I wonder if the God of Life knows the history of the man he’s employing. Perhaps that’s where the tension between Foley and Thorne stems from?

We fall silent in the wake of the tense conversation, both of us lost in our thoughts. I roll onto my back again as my mind returns to what I learned from Maebyn. Does Thorne know who Baylor is going to ask him to kill?

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

“Alright.”

I take a deep breath. “What would someone gain from killing a God?”

He turns his head on the pillow, raising a brow at me. “Should I be nervous about this line of questioning?”

I roll my eyes. “Hypothetical, remember?”

“Of course.” He grins as he rolls onto his side. “ Hypothetically… I’m guessing this person already has the means with which to kill said God?”

“Let’s say for argument’s sake they do,” I say, turning to face him. My pulse quickens as I notice the limited number of inches separating our faces.

“I suppose there are many ways someone could benefit from the death of a God,” he muses. “But if a person were determined enough, there is a way they could take the God’s place.”

“What?” I ask as a cold chill creeps over my entire body, causing me to pull the blankets closer. “You mean they could become a God?”

“It’s possible.” He nods, adjusting his position to narrow the gap between us. “Very few know this, but when a God dies, their Heir doesn’t fully ascend right away. The process can take weeks or even months. And in that time, the Heir is incredibly vulnerable. Their body and powers are growing stronger, but they can often be unpredictable. If, hypothetically, someone were to kill an Heir during their ascension, they could claim the Heir’s destiny as their own.”

My mind buzzes as his words spark a myriad of thoughts. “That’s…”

“Terrifying?” He raises a brow.

“And more.” I shudder. “Has it happened before?”

“Only once that I know of,” he says as his leg brushes against mine. “I was told it was only a few centuries after the Gods first came to power. Supposedly, the one who intervened and killed the Heir was severely punished by the Fates.”

“ Some Heirs were fated to rise, others to fall,” I murmur, repeating Maebyn’s words.

“Hmm?” he asks as his hand slips under my nightgown to rest against the bare skin of my back.

“Nothing,” I whisper as my body erupts in shivers. “If the Fates killed that person, then so much for your theory that they appreciate a little defiance.”

“Maybe it’s a case-by-case basis,” he says softly as he pulls me closer, curling me into his body as he slides one of his legs between mine. “We never truly know what the Fates have planned for us. There could come a day when they want a new bloodline to take over one of the Isles.”

“I suppose,” I say, thinking of Foley. Would the Fates actually punish someone for saving the world from the likes of him?

His face nuzzles into the crook of my neck, avoiding my collar as he inhales my scent. I lift a hand, brushing my fingers through the soft strands of his dark hair, enjoying the sigh of contentment that escapes him.

“So, if I was wanting to replace a God,” I say, turning the conversation back to my original question. “I’d have to know the identity of their Heir?”

“Correct,” he murmurs. “Otherwise, you’d risk the Heir completing their ascension before you ever found them. Most Gods are extremely skilled at hiding their children…” His words trail off for a moment as his mouth parts on a wide yawn. “It would take years of searching to even find a single lead.”

Which means that if Baylor is finally ready to end Maebyn’s life, he already knows where her Heir is hiding. With that terrifying thought, my eyes drift shut as I wrap my arms tightly around Thorne. No matter what comes later, here in this moment I feel safe.