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Chapter forty-nine

D ays passed and Astrid’s patience wore thin.

She waited for a sign. For one of Sterling’s spies to contact her.

He wouldn’t have tried to extract her while Dimitri remained in the palace.

Sterling would have waited for Dimitri to leave, trusted her to extend his next assignment and buy the necessary time.

Sorin must have sent the winged male, or worse, her dear husband’s enemies sought to punish him with her humiliation.

Astrid glanced at Dimitri as he shrugged into a black topcoat with understated crimson embroidering and fastened his sword belt. He’d been awake when Graymalkin’s lyrical chirps woke her this morning. She’d been confined to this room since they returned, and the tension between them steadily grew.

He’d kept his terms of their bargain, taking the letters she penned to Sorin each morning. Astrid signed her latest message and held it up with two fingers as he strolled past her. He took the folded parchment, not bothering to open it.

“Dress in your finest gown. The Ascension will start in an hour,” he said over his shoulder before leaving the room.

A Ledivite custom she had no experience with.

If Dimitri let her out of their room, she could have asked Viktor what colors were typically worn.

King Ambrose would lay a sword on his parents’ grave to honor their reign.

Dimitri dressed as though it were a funeral, but the accounts she’d read made it sound like a celebration.

Astrid walked into their shared closet. The earth weavers expanded it when they repaired the wall she’d carved the Mothers into. An array of tulle, chiffon, and silk gowns hung in neat rows greeted her.

She selected a sleeveless black gown of chiffon and lace. Following Dimitri’s lead would be a safe choice. Astrid slipped into it and caged her waist beneath one of Keres’s breathtaking creations. This one was gold with delicate, platinum lotus blossoms arranged over the thin boning.

The metallurgist enchanted each of her pieces to radiate heat, much in the same way Astrid could stitch a soul. The magic slowly drained out of the metal and Keres embedded her fire into them when she rejuvenated the hearth, keeping the room comfortable.

Astrid tucked her hair behind her pointed ear and opened the top drawer of Dimitri’s nightstand. Her jeweled combs, pins, and sticks were meticulously arranged beside his suede box.

Her gaze lingered on the container.

Dimitri stored the toys he used on her within it, but hadn’t opened it since their fight.

He’d clung to her these past nights, forcing her to sleep with his cock buried inside her.

Drank her soul and fucked her each morning, but the intensity between them was lacking—leaving a void Astrid refused to acknowledge.

She collected her jade pins and combs, before sliding the drawer closed. Dimitri would be in a bitter mood according to Keres, and the drug she’d given her was concealed in the gold-wrapped jade hair stick.

Dimitri returned as Astrid slid the last comb into place. Her irritation lifted when she caught sight of the red lilies in his hand.

“Neva,” he said, turning toward the door.

Astrid took her place at his side and controlled her expression when he didn’t offer her the flowers. They strolled through increasingly-busy corridors and the crowd parted for Dimitri as they had during her first visit to Viktor. The ambient chatter hushed, beginning again, louder, as they passed.

Sunlight poured over the steps she climbed, and Astrid’s breath caught at the expansive courtyard.

Her gaze shifted to the arena seating surrounding the meticulously manicured space.

Pillars supported three stories surrounding the orchard.

Winter had robbed the trees of their greenery, but there was an elegance in the way the skeletal branches framed a walkway to the matching pair of tombstones.

They were simple, curved stones embellished with Ledivion’s crest, intersecting swords. Her gaze averted to the railings wrapped in red ribbons.

Astrid’s attention was pulled away as Dimitri guided her to stand in front of him.

“Hold on to me,” he muttered as he bent, hooking his arm under the bend of her knees.

Astrid wrapped her arms around his neck and Dimitri lifted her against him. They shot upward with a hard beat of his wings and rose above the canopy. She squeezed him closer as they floated to the boxed seats on the second floor.

They landed softly in the box closest to the graves and Dimitri set her gently on her feet. She approached the railing. The ribbons she thought adorned the railings were… flowers. The same blood red lilies Dimitri held. Their sweet scent drifted through the space.

More than six seats were arranged on this balcony and Astrid couldn’t help but wonder if this box belonged to Dimitri or if he’d simply commandeered it.

He took to the air again and Astrid cataloged the crowd.

Gowns of every hue speckled the seating below.

She turned toward her neighbors and found them huddled at the far end of their box.

A trio whispered to each other in a cluster, while other winged guests openly pointed as Dimitri landed at the foot of the graves.

Murmurs and frightened glances erupted through the arena as Dimitri lowered himself to his knees. He bowed his head and pressed his hand to the snow-covered ground in front of the grave on the right. His mouth moved as he spoke to the frozen earth.

“He has no right to be there,” Astrid’s neighboring female hissed from her corner.

“King Ambrose should exile him,” the male behind her answered.

Astrid caught the male’s stare, and his charcoal wings shrank to his back. He was quick to usher the two females accompanying him from the seating area and Astrid shifted her attention back to her sword.

Dimitri laid the flowers in the snow, adjusting their position several times before he finally stood.

Betrayal festered in Astrid’s chest. How did this female maintain Dimitri’s loyalty years after her death?

It doesn’t matter , Astrid told herself.

Dimitri took to the air once more to rejoin her.

This volatile male was her sword, and his past was cold and buried.

Horns sounded as Dimitri landed. She stepped closer to the lily-covered railing and squinted against the sun.

King Ambrose entered the courtyard atop a massive black horse. Its mane and tail gleamed against the snow as it tossed its head and pawed the ground. Other winged members of the royal court were lined behind him as they marched beneath the curve of tree branches.

A scabbard with a jewel-encrusted hilt was strapped to the back of Ambrose’s saddle. Astrid studied it, curious if it was the sword Ambrose would lay before the graves.

The scrape of glass sounded behind her and Astrid was lifted off her feet the next moment.

She clung to Dimitri as they flew above the courtyard and towering spires.

The palace was much larger than she’d originally thought.

She searched the architecture, desperate for a wing to stand out, or for evidence as to where her mother was held.

Nothing seemed out of place and Astrid leaned into Dimitri, shielding herself from winter’s bite.

They landed in the white garden outside Dimitri’s room. Astrid rushed into the comfortable heat, leaving the window open behind her.

He entered behind her and rasped, “Take the gown off, wife.”

Astrid bristled. Her title lacked affection. It was a noose around her neck and Dimitri tightened it every time they fought.

He dropped the bottle of wine he’d stolen from their seating on his desk and began to strip. Astrid unzipped the side closure of her dress and let it pool at her feet. She moved to the desk in nothing more than her black lace thong and heels before opening the bottle of wine.

Her sword’s compulsion would force him to retrieve her dress and fold it before placing it in the hamper.

Dimitri did as expected while she poured his glass.

She removed the pins and combs from her long dark hair, extracting the jade stick last. When Dimitri turned his back on her, she opened the hidden vial.

Keres said a few drops would put him out until morning, but Astrid didn’t have time to measure the dose.

She upturned the gold-wrapped jade, emptying the contents into his red wine. This wouldn’t kill him, and should he sleep for a few days, it would be a welcomed reprieve. She could get her mother’s location from Dobromil and free her before Dimitri woke.

He returned to her, murmuring against her hair. “Get on the bed and spread your legs.” The seductive purr in his voice was laced with violence.

Astrid had no intention of laying still and letting him take his pain for a dead lover out on her. She pressed the glass into his hand and caressed his fingers when she pulled away.

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, sauntering to their bed. She arched her back as she crawled onto the mattress.

He approached as she sat back, swirling the dark contents of his drink in its glass. Astrid held his molten gold stare, willing him to drink his fucking wine.

Dimitri lifted the rim to his lips and drank deeply, emptying its contents. He set it on his nightstand and Astrid suppressed her victorious smile.