Page 11

Chapter Eleven

TANYL

B riar froze in my grip. For one tense, shivering second, the scene before me was splashed in blinding white relief.

Sylvie in the bed, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

Briar under my hands.

The empty glass next to the bed. My fucking bed, where my wife gave me her body. But, apparently, not her loyalty.

“Did you fuck him?” I demanded, the words emerging as a growl as I locked gazes with her over Briar’s shoulder.

She paled, and her eyes went wider. “What?” she gasped.

Briar came alive, jerking and twisting against my grip. He was fast, but I was faster. But he was also bigger—and fucking strong, his body honed by almost seventy years of training. For a second, I held my own, and we scuffled, bumping the bed and upsetting the table. Glass shattered, and Sylvie yelped as Briar broke away and then shoved me hard.

“Apologize,” he demanded as I staggered back, barely regaining my balance. Fury clouded his gray eyes as he stood between me and the bed. Behind him, Sylvie scrambled from the mattress, her hair loose and her silk gown puddling around her bare feet.

“For what?” I snapped. “Interrupting your private moment?”

Color stained Briar’s cheeks, but the fury in his eyes stayed put. “You accuse your wife of infidelity, Tanyl. I assure you, the accusation is unfounded.”

Truth. It rang clear as a bell in his voice. But I wasn’t blind, and I liked to think I wasn’t a fool.

“Intention is the same as the deed.” I flung a hand toward the chain around one of his wrists, and I knew I sneered as I added, “Isn’t that what your god says?”

Briar winced, the barb landing precisely as I’d intended.

“Go ahead,” I said, the urge to dig deeper too tempting to resist. “Tell me you didn’t intend to fuck my wife.”

Sylvie stepped away from the bed. “Stop it, Tanyl.”

I pointed at her. “Stay out of this.”

“Don’t speak to her that way,” Briar snarled, menace rolling off him. And it shouldn’t have surprised me. He was a warrior. I’d seen him rip a Scarrok to pieces. But I’d never faced him when he longed to rip me to pieces.

No, our roles had always been reversed, with me taking Briar apart and then making him thank me for it. That was the agreement . It had always been the agreement, unspoken but as indelible as blood soaked in stone. And now he’d upended it, crossing the Covenant with his pretty gray eyes and his willing mouth and his hushed protests that turned so easily into pleas. Briar Finthir was temptation wrapped in vows and denial. A servant of Perun who hated his sins.

The most infuriating thing was he was exactly what he purported to be. There was no artifice in Briar. Just a raw, earnest desire to be good.

“So gallant,” I said, moving toward him. “Such a proper knight, defending the lady’s honor.”

He took a step back, then caught himself, emotions playing over his face. Confusion. Wariness. Determination. “There’s no need for defense, Tanyl.”

“Your Grace,” I corrected, letting magic build under my skin. Sylvie’s low cry joined my growl as I whipped a hand up and seized Briar’s throat. He was a split-second too slow blocking it, and he sputtered as I cut off his air. “You’re in the Spring Court, priest, and I rule every inch of it. Whatever familiarity we shared is over, although you’ve made yourself quite familiar with my wife.”

Sylvie rushed forward. “Tanyl, stop!”

“I told you to stay out of this,” I said, keeping my gaze on Briar’s.

He narrowed his eyes, and he wheezed as he struggled to speak. He clawed at my hand with both of his.

A storm brewed under my skin as I loosened my grip. “Something to say?”

“She…is…innocent.”

I squeezed again, and he gagged. “She’s mine ,” I said, “and you can get back on your fucking horse and return to Mistport. Stay on your side of the Covenant, Father. You’re no longer welcome—” I grunted, doubling over as the air whooshed from my lungs. Briar’s second blow caught me under the chin, snapping me upright.

He didn’t give me a chance to recover as he charged me, catching me by the shoulders and driving me backward with a warrior’s bellow. My back hit stone, and then my vision filled with a glowering Briar.

“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked you not to call me that,” he growled.

The storm under my skin roared. Summoning it, I slapped a hand against his chest. Lightning burst under my palm and flung him backward.

“No!” Sylvie screamed as Briar hit the floor. He was up before she reached him, one hand thrust toward her.

“I’m all right,” he rasped. “Don’t be afraid.”

“She’s not,” I said, my voice cold and flat in my ears. “She’s a power , and she could bring this fortress down around our ears with a snap of her fingers. She’s not afraid of anything.”

Briar glared as the three of us stood in a standoff halfway between the hearth and the bed. His voice was still hoarse from my grip as he said, “And yet you treat her like a bauble on a shelf.”

Sylvie wrapped her arms around her midsection, her gaze pleading and her hair streaming around her shoulders. “Briar, please .”

“No,” he rasped, his eyes on me. “He’s wrong to keep you locked away like he does.” He lifted his chin, his next words clearly for me. “She’s your wife, not your property.”

Magic flowed down my arms and into my hands. I didn’t need to look to know tiny bolts of lightning leapt against my palms, desperate for me to throw them at the solemn, steadfast warrior-priest determined to defend Sylvie. He’d picked her. He’d taken her side. A glance at her revealed she’d stepped just a little bit closer to him, perhaps unconsciously taking his side.

Or maybe it was a conscious decision.

“I’ll handle my marriage,” I said. “Go back to Mistport, Briar. We don’t need your help.”

Hurt bloomed in his eyes before he smothered it. But I’d seen it, and the wickedness that dwelled in me—the perversity my father had tried to purge by sending me to Saltvale—couldn’t resist thrusting deep for a killing blow.

“We’re done here, Father. Get your things and get out. You’re banished from Spring. Na-lunoi .” I banish you.

Sylvie sucked in a breath as the Old Language sparked in the air. Pure and wild, it was dangerous to use anywhere in Ishulum, where it could warp and take on unintended meaning. But it was especially volatile in Spring.

Briar’s nostrils flared. “You can’t kick me out. Banishing magic doesn’t work on my kind.”

The wickedness lifted its head higher. Studied him. And saw where to strike next.

“True enough,” I said. Closing the distance between us in a blink, I grasped his jaw. “I see now why your stepmother sent you away as a child. You just can’t see when you’re not wanted, can you, Father?”

His eyes widened, two perfect circles of slate gray overflowing with pain. Somewhere, Sylvie protested, but her pleading was just noise over the rush of blood in my ears. I’d gone too far. At last, I’d gone too far, and the blade I’d sought to thrust into Briar pierced me, ripping us both open as we looked into each other’s eyes.

Briar leaned into my grip, strangling himself even as he forced words from his constricted throat. “You seemed to want me pretty badly this morning when you got on your knees and sucked my cock.”

The rush stopped, both of us tensing as we realized what he’d said. I dropped my hand. Together, we looked at Sylvie, who stared between us, one hand pressed to her throat.

The door burst open, and Crispin rushed inside with knights on his heels.

“Your Grace?” he asked, swinging his gaze between me and Briar. “We heard shouting.”

Sylvie swayed, her eyes rolling back in her head. I moved without thinking, and I caught her just as she slumped to the floor. As I gathered her in my arms and turned toward the bed, her lips touched my ear.

“Crispin sees all,” she whispered.

My nape prickled. When I looked down, she opened her eyes briefly, a warning gleaming in them. Lucidity gleamed there, too. I gave a subtle nod as I settled her on the bed. Then I faced Crispin and the knights.

“The queen is well,” I said. “She only fainted.”

Crispin looked at the bed. “I’ll fetch a healer.”

“Unnecessary,” I said. “She needs rest. I’ll see to it.”

“But—”

“I’m fine, Brother,” Sylvie said behind me. “It’s late. Sleep is all I require.”

Crispin’s mouth tightened. Then he inclined his head. “Then I leave you in your husband’s tender care.”

I smiled. “She’s in excellent hands, my lord.”

He waited a beat. Then he turned and motioned the knights to the door. As they clattered from the chamber, his gaze touched on Briar. It landed on me last, and he bowed. “Goodnight, Your Grace. Perun protect you.”

“He always does, Lord Crispin.”

Crispin straightened. Without another word, he pulled the door shut.