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Chapter forty-six

A strid closed her eyes. The warmth of Dimitri’s touch soothed a part of her that was never accepted in Clorea.

He stepped back. “I need to turn in my reports.”

She intertwined her fingers with his and they strolled out of her temple. “I want to send another letter to my cousins.”

He stopped suddenly and yanked her toward him. Callused fingers caged her throat, urging her chin higher. His teeth flashed as he spoke. Territorial and vicious. “They can’t save you from me, neva.”

“I don’t need saving,” Astrid purred, leaning into his grip. “I only wish to remind them I am the rightful heir, and tell them we are wed.”

His fingers loosened and he pressed a kiss on her forehead before releasing her. “I’m… sorry.”

The words were clumsy, but it was the first apology she’d received from him—and perhaps the first he’d ever given. He may believe he owned her, but during the passing weeks, he’d begun to value her.

They returned to his room and Astrid began writing her letter.

Dimitri lingered for a few moments before leaving her side.

She knew he read her letters before they were sent, but there would be no code to infer.

This letter was a tactful declaration. She’d married and adopted Ledivite customs. Her throne would no longer fall to the first born male. She was heir to the Serpents’ Crown.

A large shadow landed in the private gardens and Astrid smiled. Her besotted husband had returned unexpectedly quick. She stood, making her way to the window and froze.

The edge of a rust-colored wing was framed in the glass. Astrid stepped back and a male she didn’t recognize pushed the window open. His eyes darted over the room.

“We don’t have much time, Princess. Sorin sent me,” he whispered with his hand outstretched.

His empty hand.

Sterling would have told this male his name, not her cousin’s. Further, where was the snow plant to signal he was part of the plan? He should have carried it, or at least had a blossom pinned to him.

Dimitri’s warning rang through her mind.

If you’re captured, you can expect to be tied to a sawhorse and given to the legion.

Her magic snapped to her in an instant. The golden haze of tiny stars glimmered over the flesh and bone housing his soul. She hadn’t made a kill in months, but would happily remind him why males wailed her title when she approached.

“I don’t need rescuing. Save my mother,” Astrid hissed.

“The orders were for you.” The male stepped into the room and caught her wrist, tugging her forward. “We don’t have time; he’ll return soon,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I’m ordering you to save my mother,” Astrid commanded.

He dragged her forward, stepping onto the windowsill. Astrid’s temper spiked. If he couldn’t take orders from her, she’d send him back to the Vermillion Palace in bloody pieces.

Astrid clapped her other hand over his, squeezing it to her wrist. Her magic flared and she ripped his soul from his legs. The male crumbled to the ground and thrashed his wings in a wild panic.

“What’ve you done?” he cried, dragging himself onto the snow.

“Dimitri!” Astrid screamed, catching the male’s ankle in both hands.

He flapped his wings harder, sending loose pages flying off the desk.

“ Dimitri!” she yelled again, dragging her newest playmate back into the room. She raised her arms, making a dramatic show of dropping his useless leg. “I’m going to cut off your wings and use them to make a new pair of boots,” she said sweetly.

She toyed with him, stepping on the back of his knee and barring his soul from one arm but leaving him the other. He wiggled back and forth like a fish tossed onto land. He posted himself up with his good arm.

“Princess—” His eyes widened as he looked past her.

Astrid smiled, delighted to see the blood drain from his face. It’d been so long since she killed. His death would be a glorious thing of beauty. She took his limp hand, intent on introducing him to her husband.

The leading edge of his rust-colored wing snapped forward and she twisted out of its path. His talon tore her sleeve and sliced her shoulder. Before she could right herself, the rust-winged Fae managed to take flight and fled through the window.

Her scalp burned the next instant as Dimitri held her by a fistful of her hair. She gripped his hand, fighting his unrelenting pressure.

“Do you think you can leave me?” he bellowed before dropping her.

Astrid’s dark hair tossed across her vision with a powerful beat of Dimitri’s wings. He was in the sky the next instant.

“Fucking idiot, jealous male,” Astrid hissed, rubbing her stinging scalp. She watched their dark silhouettes against the crisp blue sky and her lips parted.

What was he doing?

Astrid squinted as Dimitri flew higher.

She leaned in the window frame as disappointment slumped her shoulders. Her prey was escaping, and Dimitri was as useless at hunting as Graymalkin.

Her sword’s silhouette tightened. Dimitri’s wings pulled tight to his body suddenly and he sang through the air like an arrow. Astrid watched, astonished, as he closed in.

Closer.

Closer.

The impact was brutal, and her prey tumbled through the sky in an uncontrolled spin. Astrid lifted her gaze to Dimitri. She recognized the steady beat of his wings but there was something large and flat covering his legs. Astrid stared, puzzled, as Dimitri tossed it.

It fell to the ground like a sheet of paper, falling after his opponent.

Astrid straightened as realization struck her. Dimitri had torn off the male’s wing.

He dove again and his silhouette steadily grew larger. Heat flushed her cheeks and Astrid backed away from the window, searching for a weapon. She drew one of his swords and stood so the bed was between her and his grand entrance.

He landed a moment later. Blood splatter and pieces of what she recognized as bone covered him. His eyes were wild as he stalked toward her.

“I wasn’t leaving you,” Astrid quickly explained.

Her words stalled when his wing lashed toward his desk. He hooked his talon through the ring on his twin scabbard and caught the weapon in a smooth motion. The slide of metal against its sheath rang as he drew his weapon.

Fuck.

Astrid instinctively stitched her soul and raised her sword. “Dimitri, this was an attack.”

Another step.

“I was calling for you,” she exclaimed, frantically.

Dimitri lunged. He struck hard, knocking the blade from her throbbing hand. Astrid choked as his grip cut off her air. He dragged her forward, lifting her feet off the stone floor. He held her so close, his lips brushed hers as he spoke.

“Your blood is mine. Your orgasms are mine. You are mine.”