Page 22

F or the next few days, Theron was no better than an injured dog, liable to lash out and bite anyone who got too close. His heart was a raw, gaping wound that refused to heal. Aurora had slipped through his walls, and with unexpected violence, she’d thrown every nightmare, every crippling memory, into stark relief. Her words had cut him to the bone and then served him his bleeding heart on a silver platter.

He hated her for it.

With only a few words, she’d stripped him of his strength, his control, his sense of equilibrium. No one had ever done that to him and lived to tell the tale.

Except her.

As much as he’d wanted to stomp down that hallway and beat down her door so that he could rail against her, give some outlet to the ugly, fetid swamp of emotions riding him, a small rational part of him knew she was not to blame for it. Not really. Those wounds had been inflicted by his parents in their darkest hour and then left to fester for a lifetime thereafter.

As Theron lounged in the courtyard, soaking in the sun, he had a sinking feeling in his gut. His anger had abated, leaving remorse in its wake. It was uncomfortable, and every time he thought he’d managed to cleanse himself of it, her angry tears invaded his mind.

The benefits of being a king meant never having to apologise to anyone beneath you. And as a king, everyone was beneath him. But if he wanted to salvage some connection with Aurora, he was going to have to. Her value had not diminished just because he’d lost his temper. She knew things no one else did. Theron was still convinced he was going to need her before his trials in Boreas were through, and his intuitions were rarely wrong.

The problem was that by the time he’d calmed down enough to know what he needed to do, he couldn’t find her anywhere. She no longer slept in the room she’d been in. Like a ghost, she seemed to pass through the walls of the guest palace unseen. Only his spies had been able to detect her. According to them, Aurora moved rooms daily, snuck into the kitchens at odd hours, and slipped between guard rotations to bathe at night. He tried to catch her one evening, but she’d never showed.

His only consolation was that she hadn’t managed to relieve him of her pack of ill-gotten goods. Theron was confident she wouldn’t leave the capital without them, and so he’d taken to keeping them on his person at all times. Naturally, he’d sorted through them many times during the interminably dull days in the vivarium. Stolen treasures from the other prisoners, a coveted bar of soap, a few gowns, her foreign clothes, her ancient artefacts, and her scroll. He turned to it again, unrolling it to see her drawings.

He recognised the woman, the same face that the spirit had taken. Phaedra. Rendered in loving detail, this one had an air of mischief about her. The next was a man with long, pointed ears, much like her own, and a kind look in his eyes. Lover? Family? He didn’t know. The next was a sword, the hilt drawn in intricate and precise detail. Something about it bothered him, scratching at the back of his mind, like a forgotten word trapped on the tip of his tongue. The last was of a fearsome beast—a great serpent, a multitude of horns curling from its head, eyes wide with madness, gaping jaw full of endless teeth. It looked exactly like something Batea would create, if she hadn’t already. With a striking resemblance to her most recent giant serpents, he couldn’t help his unease. Perhaps the ambition to soar through the skies on the backs of dragons was one better left to the imagination than brought to reality.

He tucked the scroll back into her sack and pulled out her small circular artefact, marvelling at his handiwork. With nothing better to fill his time, aside from thinking up all the retorts he wished to lob at both the princess and her wretch of a mother, he’d turned to repairing it. But the metal bands around it had resisted his every effort and refused to bend even when heated. It was only when, in a fit of pique, his magic had swirled around him and latched onto the artefact that he’d uncovered something truly unique.

That was when he knew Aurora would forgive him. The inquisitive little fairy would no doubt be fascinated to learn her artefact was in some strange way a living organism. He planned on trading that information, along with her fully restored artefact, for her forgiveness and continued aid.

It would be enough, surely.

As a servant came up the covered walkway, Theron slipped the artefact into the crudely stitched satchel at his side. This servant wore a red bracelet. She made to clean up his morning dishes.

“Word is the queen has something humiliating planned for a party to celebrate the end of the plague and the reopening of the city.”

Perhaps this time she would force him to appear in nothing but a soiled loincloth. Though it was bold of her to risk humiliating him in front of an audience. Even one as hostile as the nobles of Boreas could be made to turn on her with the right invective. No monarch ever rested on their laurels with such bloodhounds as usually stalked the courts.

“Typical. Anything else?”

“No word of weddings, if that’s what concerns you.”

That was the first bit of good news he’d heard in a while. If Flora hadn’t convinced herself she’d just come up with a brilliant solution for a fourth time in a row after allowing Epicasta to escort him, he should thank the Triad. He would pray that it remained so. Much as he blustered the other day, he had no desire to test his mettle against a magic foul enough to deprive three men of their will. Nor did he have any illusions that his refusal to hand over the Dragon’s Flank wouldn’t result in a more dire situation.

“And the magic?”

“No word on what it might be.”

Theron cursed.

How was he to protect himself against a magic he knew nothing about? How was he to circumvent it so that he could assure himself that he could kill his potential black widow of a bride? It was clearly not Epicasta’s magic. The bitch princess could suffocate him all she liked, he would abdicate long before he allowed such torture to sway him into ceding the territory. But her mother? From what he understood, she had the ability to paralyse her victim for a short time. While possible that she’d used it to allow Epicasta to consummate her marriages with unwilling husbands, the very thought was so repellent to him that he couldn’t imagine Flora would still be queen if she’d used her magic in such a way. Surely her own nobles would have deposed her long ago.

“Have someone look into what Flora was doing while Epicasta’s husbands lost their will to fight.”

The servant’s eyes widened as she piled up his dishes on her platter.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He needed to know how Flora or her daughter had subdued the princess’ late husbands into total submission. After all, it would’ve had to have been lasting in effect for Epicasta to thoroughly bankrupt them all before they’d faced execution. He’d always assumed it had been accomplished through fear alone. But if the princess hadn’t been lying to force his hand, then he would have one more weapon in his arsenal for dealing with Flora. If he could uncover it.

“And have you been able to find my lit—Aurora?”

“I believe she is on the grounds somewhere at present, as all her usual hiding places within the building proper were searched today.”

That didn’t account for unusual places she might know of that no one else did though. How was he supposed to regain her aid if he couldn’t find the slippery woman? Theron sighed. At least he had her satchel. She would never leave without it. He reached down to grab it as the servant left.

His gut sank to his knees.

The satchel was gone.

Theron scanned the surrounding garden but there was no one in sight save for the retreating servant. The little minx must have used her magic to grab it before he could blink, the same as she had the first day he’d met her. That meant her escape was imminent. He launched into action, racing towards her little hole in the wall. Theron sent his magic out in a wave before him. If there were a living body anywhere in the thick foliage, he would find it.

Luckily, he didn’t have to go far.

When his magic found her scampering through the greenery in almost total silence, she gasped. No doubt she could feel it coursing through her. If he allowed it to reassure him that she was in good health, he would never breathe a word of it.

Stealth forgotten, Aurora picked up her pace.

His blood sang in his veins as he raced towards her. When he caught sight of her blonde head, his smile was irrepressible. Fast as she might be, he had the longer legs. Within a few strides, he was in front of her. Aurora skidded to a halt, winded, her cheeks flushed and her hair in disarray. And she was wearing the clothes that fit her like a second skin. It felt indecent, staring at her and feeling the strangest urge to devour her. To take her to the ground and press his teeth into her neck and make her submit. He swallowed.

Why were those trousers of hers the most erotic thing he’d ever seen a woman wear?

Her green gaze was uncertain, as if she expected him to lash out. Unease crept up his throat. An unpleasant thing, to know he’d caused that in her.

No, he wasn’t supposed to think this way. He was acting like a fool. Aurora was a means to an end, one he was certain would be well worth the effort. Physical attraction was one thing, but this weakness in his heart needed to be scoured out of him. Only by ridding himself of it would be able to maintain control of her. Of himself.

“Hello, my little fairy,” he purred. “I’ve missed you.”

When her cheeks heated with more than just her exertions, he knew he’d chosen the right tactic. She was weak to him, whether she liked it or not. And a weakness like that was begging to be exploited.

She’d been so close.

But Theron had realised her theft almost the moment her magic had failed her. She shouldn’t have stopped to put on her trousers and top, but she didn’t want to risk losing them again. That she’d been able to use her magic at all had been a minor miracle. One she credited to the artefact that had called to her from inside her satchel. It had been calling to her for days now. She’d tried to convince herself to leave without it, to hide out in town, to find another artefact from the veritable hoard inside the temple of Knowledge.

But she couldn’t.

The artefact was her only link to her own time. It was also the only thing that had managed to draw out her magic. Magic she was going to need to stop Drakon in this ancient era. Aurora had prayed Theron would leave it in his room unattended, but the clever bastard had taken to carrying it with him at all times—even to the baths.

But as he stood before her, the scent of his perfume lingering in the air between them, his seducer’s grin lighting up his eyes, her heart clenched in her chest. Wariness was mixed with something more she didn’t care to name. All she knew was that she’d not managed to extricate him from her thoughts in the few days she’d managed to stay away. Nor was she able to forget that while she had been maimed, he’d been busy flirting with another woman. He’d said dreadful things to her, and she in turn to him. In her fragile state, she’d trusted him without even meaning to. It was no wonder that she’d suffered the consequences for such foolishness shortly thereafter.

It was a foolishness that needed to end now before it became something…complicated.

“Please move aside,” she said.

“And if I do? What then?”

“I’m leaving, Your Majesty. If I’m to survive long enough to do what I came here to do, it’s clear I must be somewhere the high priestess is not.”

“You think you can hide from her?”

No, not really. Not for long. The Temple of Knowledge boasted a wide network of informants, even in the ancient past. But long enough to find the avatar? She had to hope it could be possible.

Aurora glared at Theron. She didn’t need this right now. If what the servants were saying was true, then the gates to the city would be opened soon. There hadn’t been a new case of torchlight fever for two days now. A few more without incident, and the gates would open. Aurora intended to leave the moment they did.

In the meantime, she’d made drawings for Orithyia and prayed she would never see the woman again. Even now, the clash of banging doors and stomping through the halls set her heart racing. All the nightmares of the lashing, of Drakon, of Phaedra’s last moments—they haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. There was no peace to be had in this cursed place. And there were certainly no true allies.

Theron had sat beside her as her walls had been torn down, had provided some small measure of comfort when she’d needed it most… and then abandoned her. She hated that he’d made his way into some small corner of her heart and then proven himself to be unworthy of it. She hated it even more that it hadn’t diminished the effect his presence had on her. At best, he was a distraction she didn’t need, and at worst, a liability.

“What I think is that the only person I can rely on is myself.”

“Have you decided you no longer need my military? My support? My protection once I leave Boreas?”

In past cycles of calamity, the hero of the holy sword was said to have slain Drakon alone. Now she knew that the hero required her assistance, or someone like her. But would they also need an army? Had the aid of other warriors been left out of the histories in order to bolster the hero’s fame? She didn’t know. But the longer she remained here instead of searching for the hero, the likelier she was to face Orithyia again. Another beating like the one she’d endured could not be allowed to happen again. After all, there was no guarantee Theron would heal her.

“And if I stayed, will I get them, or will you turn on me as you did the other day?”

“That was…regrettable. As an apology, I repaired your artefact.”

How had he managed that? She’d done her level best to warp the metal bands no to avail. But there was no denying that it was drawing out her magic as it had done when she’d first found it in the dualist museum. The question was on the tip of her tongue. She mentally shook herself. No, this was just another way for him to delay her.

“Apologies usually begin with the words ‘I’m sorry’ and continue with acknowledging one’s transgressions.” She frowned.

No doubt a man like him would balk at such a demand. Let him prove himself unworthy of her trust once again. Let her heart and mind be in accordance.

“There are better ways for a man to apologise to a lady,” he purred.

Aurora fought a blush.

“You overestimate your dubious charms, Your Majesty.”

“You’ve never experienced my charms, dubious or otherwise, Aurora.”

“I will only be satisfied with a proper apology. If you can’t give me that, I have no reason to stay.”

“And if I promised I could satisfy you with an improper apology?”

“I would tell you to please move aside.”

He stepped closer then, making it impossible to ignore him, the heat of his skin, the sheer width of him. It was getting harder to ignore what an improper apology might entail.

“ Aurora ,” he said, his deep voice rumbling.

She clenched her fists at her sides, refusing to back down from his hypnotising gaze. It didn’t matter that the sound of her name on his lips made her insides feel like jelly. It didn’t matter that he physically appealed to her every feminine fantasy. He was a snake.

And he’d already bitten her once.

“Tell me you don’t want me. Make me believe it,” he said, his eyes pulling her in.

No, that way lay madness. If she kept playing this game, she would lose—and they both knew it. It was time to stop playing by his rules.

“Is this how you charmed that other lady, Your Majesty?” she said with more venom than she’d meant. A mistake. He seemed far too pleased.

“As gratifying as your jealousy is, there is no other lady.” He smiled indulgently.

Aurora all but growled. It took a great effort of will not to spit at him.

“I may have been missing one eye at the time, but I clearly saw you in the gardens with a lady. The one you snuck out of the room to meet while I was busy getting maimed.”

That wiped the grin from his face. Replaced with a haunted look that was gone in the blink of an eye. He settled for a scowl.

“I didn’t sneak out of the room.”

“Call it whatever you like. I woke to two paladins barging into the room to drag me off and you were nowhere in sight.”

He furrowed his brows.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Then we have nothing to discuss,” she said, moving to get around him.

Theron shifted to intercept her. Goddess, if only she could properly control her magic, then she could do as she liked with ease, or at least without so many obstacles.

“Your Majesty—”

“Theron. I asked you to call me by my name.” He raised his chin.

She returned his scowl.

“And I asked for an apology. It seems neither of us is getting what we want today.”

A vein at his temple began throbbing. Good. He should share in her frustration. He tried to glare her into submission but she wouldn’t bend.

“I was called to an audience by Queen Flora. Afterwards, she set her daughter on me. There was no flirting. There was barely even a discussion, merely a great number of threats. Now then, I have explained myself.” He crossed his arms, clearly put out that he had been forced to do so.

Now it was her turn to feel a little sheepish. That did explain why he wasn’t there when the paladins had come…but it didn’t excuse how he’d treated her afterwards. In fact, it didn’t explain a damn thing about how abominably he’d acted. So what if she’d been upset with him? He’d acted like she’d defaced his family mausoleum.

“I…fine. But what about after that? You treated me horribly for no reason.”

There again, that haunted look, quashed in an instant, replaced by another impressive scowl. What was he hiding?

“I… You made spurious accusations! How was I supposed to react?”

It was a weak excuse. She pressed forward.

“You could have told me what you did just now!”

“And you could have been more reasonable!”

She all but shrieked with indignation. Reasonable?! He’d expected her to be reasonable after the trauma she’d endured? He was lucky she’d been lucid!

“After everything that had happened that day and the night before, I wasn’t in my right mind! What’s your excuse?!”

“My excuse?! Do you think you’re entitled to an explanation for my every word and deed just because you want it?”

Merciful Triad, spare her from arrogant swine.

“And you? Do you think you’re entitled to my forgiveness just because you want it?”

“I am a king ,” he snarled.

“And I don’t give a damn,” she hissed. “If you want my help, you’ll treat me with respect.” She punctuated her point with a finger to his chest. He brushed away her hand.

“And what of the respect I am owed? What of your apology to me?”

Aurora curled her lip.

“Fine!” She stomped her foot, glaring at him and wishing she could burn a hole through his thick skull. “I’m sorry for thinking you owed me anything at all. I’m sorry for thinking you cared about anything more than what you could get out of me. I’m sorry for thinking you could be trusted. I’m sorry for thinking you were capable of true kindness. I’m sorry for thinking there was a man beneath your mask instead of a snake! Now get out of my way!” She pushed passed him, eyes misting with foolish, angry tears.

He grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

“We’re not done here.”

“I have nothing more to say to you!” she retorted.

He searched her eyes, as if looking for a surrender. It would never come.

“You can’t seriously mean to leave. Where will you sleep? How will you purchase food? Even if you get out of the city, what then? Do you know how to light a fire? Do you know where it’s safe to camp and where it isn’t? What if you meet bandits on the road, or worse, monstrosities?”

He didn’t really care. He was just trying to keep her from leaving. As she ought to.

“Why do you care? As you said, you’re a king. I’m no one. My fate should be immaterial to you. Unless you’re merely asking in an attempt to shake my confidence?” she taunted.

“Why must you be so bloody stubborn?” he growled, advancing on her.

“Why won’t you just let me go?” She tried to wrench her wrist from his grip.

“Because it’s dangerous out there.”

“It’s dangerous in here .” She finally succeeded, pulling away from him.

“You said you would stay.” He narrowed his eyes.

“That was before. When I thought you could be trusted,” she huffed.

“Then I demand you repay me for healing you. Or are you someone who doesn’t pay their debts?” He smirked.

That rat bastard! She gritted her teeth, certain she was going to fracture them with her pique. Was it still considered regicide if he’d died thousands of years before she was born?

“Fine! But after this, I want nothing to do with you,” she warned him.

Aurora grabbed a spare piece of paper from her satchel, charcoal, and marched to the wall encompassing the vivarium’s garden. She held up her paper against a smooth brick and started drawing. When she was done, she shoved the drawing at Theron.

He took the drawing and stared at it, brows furrowed in bewilderment.