Page 31 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)

“Diemos doesn't have as harsh of a sun, does it?” I ask as I, too, take in the cavernous space.

The cathedral-like ceilings are art within themselves, layers of windows forming a flowering peak in the center of the huge dome building.

It's one of the most fascinating structures on the palace grounds.

It's always much cooler inside than it is anywhere else.

“No, it doesn't, but that’s not really what I meant.” He walks forward without explaining what it is he did mean. “The king keeps a place such as this but kills for the use of magick daily?” He asks, turning to face me again.

“My father kills for less.” I say, and he nods. “This is one of my favorite places in the palace.” I say, looking around again, I can't help but smile as I let myself be completely enveloped by my surroundings.

“Like the hidden space in the library?” His voice startles me as his proximity is much closer than before; whereas I am taking in the surroundings, Kyros is taking in me.

His eyes dance over my face, standing merely a foot in front of me.

“Another place you come with no expectations.” I gasp, taking a step back on instinct and losing my balance.

Kyros’ arm wraps behind my back as he helps me find my feet before I fall on my ass.

“I—” I am lost, fallen into a pool of water so dark and stormy, I can't find my way back to the surface. My breath, stolen from my lungs. “I expect nothing less than magick every time I come to the conservatory.” I say, unable to speak anything other than the truth.

“Mmmm, is that so?” He steps closer, leaving his arm behind my back even though I can stand on my own now.

“So you do not share the same values as the man who has raised you? You would accept magick?” His body presses into mine as he leans forward, hovering just a hair's breadth over mine.

If someone were to come in… this would be the end of him.

The end of me. My father would kill him for overstepping.

His death would be my eternal punishment, because as I stand here lost in the darkness that is Kyros, I think I can finally see a future that is more—

My eyes are as heavy as my body now feels as I let him support my weight.

His hand creates a warmth across my back, only the thin material of my dress separating him from where my scars are.

“ Or would you condemn those who speak of magick and all the good it could do for this kingdom just as easily as he would?” His lips brush mine just the faintest, but his words hit me like the kick of the stool at the gallows.

Hard and quick. The cloud of lust that surrounded my head clears instantly, and I push his arms away from me.

“Kyros, you can't talk like that here.” I look around to see if there is anyone here that would run and tell my father. Of anything that just happened. Whatever that was... “Talking of the acceptance of magick is a death sentence in Eathian. As is touching the princess.”

“Yet your father keeps a place like this?” He steps back, gesturing to the room we are standing in.

“This room is kept this way by magick .” I shake my head, not understanding.

“And as for touching you ,” he boldly steps forward once again.

His thumb and forefinger pinch my chin, and his thumb presses to my bottom lip as he brings my face toward him.

“Only you can stop that, but I have a feeling you wouldn't. I think you want it.”

“Kyros,” his hand drops, and his forehead comes close to pressing against mine.

My breathing is as erratic as my heart pounding in my chest. He’s right .

I want to close the space between us. I want his hands on my body, exploring and finding how drenched I am between my legs for him right now, but to allow that…

I don’t know what it would mean. How it would change everything…

“Think about what I asked, Shula.” He turns and strides away without a backward glance, leaving me panting and needy, questioning everything this life has been to me.

Why would my father let tonight be a night of rest for the castle?

He couldn’t care less that these men should be resting before what could be the journey that leads them to their death.

No, my father has been busy discussing the future with the men and their families, gaining promises from all, no doubt.

Picking through them like a glutton and making promises on my behalf just as before.

“Sit still, Astraea. You’re fidgeting.” He growls through a fake smile so people don’t see that he is frustrated with me.

He sent a red dress up for me to wear. Pravin said that it would be provocative and would get the men even more excited to win a one-on-one audience with me.

I took one look at the dress before nearly hurling it into the hearth and setting it on fire.

In an act of defiance I instead wore the dress that was given to me by Cole, though my hair is twisted up into a tight twist just as my father likes.

I feel the throbbing ache that has not dissipated since the last nightmare.

But most importantly, I can't get the conservatory out of my head. I am all nerves waiting to see him.

“They should be resting. It’s late. The men have a long journey and a challenge ahead of them—”

“Hush, daughter!” This time his smile is less friendly and more like a rabid animal baring its fangs.

“You have already disappointed me once tonight. Do as you have been taught. Shut your mouth, sit there, and be pretty until you are called on to dance. I don’t want to hear another word out of you, unless it is agreeing to do as I say.

Do you understand?” His words invoke the fear in me just as they always have, but this time feels different.

I feel as though it’s not just myself or Cole I need to protect.

The tiredness I’ve felt from my restless nights and emotional days creeps in as the fight leaves me, and just as I have my whole life, I retreat into myself.

“Yes, father,” I say, looking down at my hands.

I want so badly to pick at the skin along my fingernails.

I want to cross and uncross my legs and search for something to latch onto that will keep me from being in the present.

But I don’t do any of that. If I do, it will only serve to make things worse for me and for them, so I stay still just as my father wants, in hopes that this doesn’t last long.

A throat clearing pulls my attention, and as Kyros and Mavros stand before me and my father, only Mavros gives a slight bow.

Almost too slight to be considered a bow at all, but Kyros doesn't bow at all.

He doesn't even look at my father. It seems as though a scowl is permanently etched onto his face when he is around the king, and I can't help but smile a little at the thought.

His eyes flick to mine at the movement, and heat builds in my chest, creeping up my neck and into my cheeks.

“King Connard. Princess. I would be honored if you would give me the first dance of the evening.” Mavros states, reaching his hand out in offering.

“Actually,” my father says, “Princess Astraea was just about to dance with Prince Cadoc.” Pulling my bottom lip into my mouth, I chew the skin nervously. In an effort to please my father and pull attention from the men in front of us, I nod.

“I’m sorry, perhaps the ne—”

“You know, being as I won the last challenge and my night with you was cut short, perhaps the more appropriate choice would be to dance with me first. Don’t you think so, Connard?

” The use of the informal title in such an open way has me bracing myself for the blast that is about to come from my father, but Kyros does not give my father a moment to respond.

He steps between the bodies, taking my hand and pulling me from my chair.

I gasp as I fall into his chest, and he twirls us to the middle of the large open space of the formal dining hall.

The musicians' tune slows as Kyros and I reach the center of the room. I can feel my father’s eyes on me, and I swallow my nerves as I watch my and Kyros’ feet move. His fingers hook under my chin, and he lifts my gaze to meet his.

“Don’t let him do that.”

“Do what?”

“Dim your light.” He says, and the heat that bursts in my chest takes up its space once again.

“Right now, you don’t have to worry about him.

You don’t need to worry about anyone else in this room but me.

Okay?” I take a deep breath and blink slowly.

Keeping my eyes closed for a moment longer than necessary, and when I open them again, I release the breath, and all I see is Kyros.

His black eyes boring into mine and blotting out everything else.

His warm, spicy, and smoky scent engulfs me as he leans down, whispering in my ear.

“That’s it, Shula.” I feel my body relax as his breath brushes the shell of my ear.

“I don’t understand you.” I finally say, and he brings his head back so he can see my face clearly .

“Do you want to understand me?” He asks, confusing me further.

“I don’t know what I want.” The way he is looking at me makes me feel small and more unsure of myself than I have ever felt, and I don’t know whether I want to embrace it or hide from it.

“Maybe it's time you figure that out. I know that you have been told to choose someone else, but you and I both know that you want to make your own choices. Like you did with me.” Our feet stop moving, and it's the first time that I notice there are others moving about around us, dancing to an upbeat tune.

I thought the music to be slow for Kyros and me, but the pounding rhythm instead matches the beat of my rampant heart.

“I—” I whisper, but Kyros’ hand trails up my arm and presses into the side of my neck. His thumb pushes the angle of my chin up so my eyes clash with his.

“Choose for yourself, again. Who is most deserving of your favor?”