Page 2 of The Faebound Trials (Mates and Madness: The Phantom Prince and The Bloodweaver #1)

I frowned.

“I didn’t do anything.” I looked him straight in the eye.

His rough hands squeezed my arms. I pulled away but he didn’t budge. I knew that look. Anger and disappointment flashed in his eyes.

“You killed a man.” A statement not a question.

I couldn’t hide the guilt when I took a step back. As if his words burned my skin.

“No. I didn’t.” A defensive tone laced my voice.

I gulped down and looked away.

“And you’re still a liar.” Accusation dripping in his every word.

My eyes narrowed, a flash of anger in my eyes.

I twisted out of his grasp as I felt a lump formed in my throat. I pushed him away, and saw him stumble from the force.

Then I turned my back, the weight of his stare felt heavy with guilt or something else.

I walked towards the crowd. He followed me like a dog like he always did.

I kept myself from the memories of that night. Of my first murder. I wouldn’t do that again. I promised myself.

But if circumstances forced my hands again. I would do it to survive.

Beggars, merchants, and thieves populated the Central Mistfall.

I wished to misdirect Asael. But he was the best assassin of Embergrave for a reason.

I remembered Sally, Caran’s sugar peddler, her words rang in my head. And she was right, I shouldn’t have slept and fooled around with an assassin.

I slipped to the side when I felt him reach for my neck, but then who am I to even attempt to get away from the best?

A sudden force pulled me out of my thoughts. He pulled me to a corner and rammed my back against the dirty bricked walls. I gasped.

Heat flared in my eyes. My breath was tight. A bitter taste lingered in my mouth.

Fucking Asael.

He had always been rough, likes it rough, does it rough.

His face compensated for it, a beautiful raven-haired assassin. His eyes were a combination of mischief and violence.

But I hated it when he was like this. Rough and unruly. Unforgiving and intense.

He stopped to stare at my face. His mouth was slightly agape as it fell down to my lips.

His pupils dilating, he was unblinking. A silly assassin captivated by the beauty of a scarred girl living in the ruins of Mistfall.

He was lost for a moment, committing the image of me into his memory.

“You love what you see?”

I heard him hum to my question. Distracted.

And I took that chance to elbow him, flipping him like I’d taught myself.

I pushed him against the wall and he let all that happen with a ghost of a smirk in his face. I grazed the familiar scar across his left neck.

The same scar I gave him when we escaped the Zalen Guards.

“Calm down. Just listen to me.” His tone was so low that only us could hear it.

He was pulled back to reality.

I didn’t let go as I slammed him once more on the wall.

“I told you to stop following me. We’re done. My ties with Embergrave ended when Verity died. Tell Zairan Nikolai to stop.”

He laughed as if it was impossible.

“But he was obsessed with you.” His eyes flickered with bitterness . “Last night, the meeting ended with blood dripping from our hands because he wants you back.” He exaggerated. He breathed out as if annoyed I would never understand it.

“And because he couldn’t get over the fact that we fooled around and you chose to play with me instead of him.” He tipped his head to look into the sky. He looked at me through his lashes. “I wonder why I’m still alive. If he only knew the things we’ve done. He’d sob for hours like a fucking baby.”

I slammed him once more and this time his nose started to bleed. He laughed like a madman, blood dripping down his teeth.

“You really need to work on your temper, Miss Ma’am. You’ve killed enough men to last a week,” he mocked playfully.

“Just shut it, Asael. Stop following me like a dog.”

I pressed my lips together.

“How could I not? You make everyone around you insane. Obsessed. And I wonder what makes us want you so much? Was it your beauty?” He just wouldn’t shut up.

The back of his hand was not touching me but he moved it as if marveling at the presence of a god before him.

He was that dramatic.

“Was it the mystery that clouds your beautiful eyes?” He broke away from my hold. Fixing his black fitted cloak. “Or was it the way you move like a thief of the night?” Now he stood tall above me. His posture, straight.

His eyes held more weight than his words.

“How was it that making us obsess over you was so easy as if it was breathing for you?”

He choked on his blood as if it was for show.

I’d no time to joke around, let alone listen to his nonsense. The Faebound Trials were about to start.

“And Good God. Why are you so strong? That the biggest crime lord of Enara practically begged me last night to bring you back,” he said the last words with sarcasm. I could even see him rolling his eyes to the back of his head. This bitch.

“I don’t have time for this. Now tell Nikolai, I’m going to Enoranthas. And he would never see me again.”

His face changed so fast my sweat went cold.

This time he squeezed me so hard. My full attention was on him.

His snarky and sarcastic mouth was now a thin line of worry. Gone was the playfulness in his face.

He pulled me closer to him. His familiar woody fresh scent stirred something in my memory.

“Don’t ever tell that to his men. Don’t ever let him know you’re leaving for Enoranthas. We both know how much his fixation on you ruined everything.” His eyes were filled with grave intensity as he warned me. “You don’t play with a man who’s consumed by your every being. I ended things with you because he forced me. Remember, he carved a scar on my sister’s face using your favorite knife to warn me.”

Panic arises in me. I almost stumbled on my feet when he grabbed me by the elbow.

“Zairan Nikolai was there. The night you murdered that lover boy. He was so proud of you like a lover drowning in ecstasy. He was blinded with pride that he hadn’t pieced the reason you killed that loser.”

I shut my eyes and exhaled loudly.

“That’s why before he comes for you and your sister. Make sure to pass the trial. You need to get out of here.”

I was silent for a minute. I found myself just staring at his face.

“Thank you. I will. Promise.”

He looked away, a habit of his whenever his heart would skip a beat for me. He once told me that.

“Don’t thank me,” he grumbled. “You only do that when you fuck me like your whore.” There was no mischief when he said that.

I could see how he struggled to fight off his feelings. How he tried his best to keep his hands from touching me. How his chest was rising and falling from the overwhelming feelings he had for me.

We had a silent understanding about his feelings. We were more than friends but less than lovers. And I knew how much he hated how he couldn’t have me all for himself.

“Then I take it back.” I shrugged.

He regained himself and slightly angled his body toward me. He grabbed me by the arm. And his touch was hot and slightly needy.

And we both knew he lost to the demons he tried to fight off. He couldn’t help but give in to his body shouting at him to touch me.

“Oh right. Before you go you need to know something.”

He didn’t know what to do with his hands when he’d let go of me as he looked around. His shoulders were still tense.

“What is it?”

“Your uncle petitioned to claim your mother’s title. And the council appointed him as the Chief Commander of the Bloodweaver’s Order while the heir is gone.”

I clenched my fist. I looked back at the makeshift home I created on the land my mother owned. That was all we had.

“Conniving bastard.”

“Take it back. It’s yours. The Bloodweaver’s Order wants you.”