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forty-eight

Thylas

A s I rush into my tent, I can hear the men already fast asleep in their dwellings, their snores fill the air as the rain trickles down. I throw open the tent flap, certain that Anara will be waiting just inside.

One glance at her hazel eyes shows she’s been crying. Her eyes are rubbed red, tears staining her cheeks, and her complexion has turned splotchy. Her body stiffens when she sees me, and she hastily wipes her cheeks, trying to regain composure, while I make my way towards her.

“Do you cry for him?” I don’t need to say his name, we both know who I am referring to.

“No,” she says firmly, her voice resolute.

I pull her against my chest roughly. We’ve been here before, in a dance of sorts between the two of us. One not of passion and love, but of desperation and loneliness. For a few moments of panting, we receive a reprieve from the emptiness inside of ourselves. The emptiness I thought I could change tonight, but yet was confronted with.

Because she isn’t strong enough for you.

I reach up and grab her by the throat, my fingers digging into the soft honey beige skin. I pull her further into me. She meets my gaze, not flinching away, and her fingers scratch down my back.

“Do you love me?” I ask, applying pressure to her throat. Tonight, I am not the man who finds love in the stories whispered on pillows of unattainable dreams.

“No,” she answers, her fingers urgently pulling down my disheveled pants that I hadn’t even had time to properly fasten before leaving the royal tent.

“Good,” is my only response as I crush her lips against mine in a bruising fight of tongue and teeth. I don’t want love. I had it once and I let it slip through my fingers, and it’s something I’ll never get back. Watching them together — the ripple between them — I stop for a moment, taking a breath. Letting my hands roam Anara’s skin. She’ll accept me as the man I am tonight. No gentle caresses, but with an anger that fuels me. A man full of guilt .

Turning Anara around, I bite at her neck and she claws at my arms as they encircle her. “I’ll stop if you ask me.”

As she looks back at me, she tugs me towards her by placing her hand behind my head. She kisses me before she bites my bottom lip hard. The metallic taste on my tongue mixes with her sweet flavors of citrus and honey. “I won’t ask you to.”

I push Anara down and over the edge of the bed, her breasts landing roughly against the mattress beneath her. With a swift kick, I force her legs apart and firmly grasp the hem of her dress, shoving it up past her hips. A smile graces my face when I realize she’s not wearing any undergarments, my fingers trailing down her ass, reaching for the wetness of her cunt. A wicked laugh escapes me at the feel of her on my fingertips, and a moan leaves her lips as I rub against her clit. My fingers coated in her pleasure plunge in and out of her, making sure she’s prepared for me.

A moan flies from her lips and she pushes up against her forearms. “I’ll take all of your anger and mirror it with my own, Prince.” The words leave her mouth as I remove my fingers and plunge into her from behind. Her words taunt me, their cruel impact a constant reminder of the one I’ve lost, and the one who has her. If she wants the anger, that’s a sure way to coax it from me.

I thrust into Anara vigorously, the pressure of my left hand on her lower back and the tight grip of my right hand leaving bruises on her hip. Watching as Ereon and Caranaxa’s ripple ebbed and flowed between them tonight reminded me of the hollowness I feel inside my chest. A hole that was once full of the most magical light. I thought that with her memories back, things would return to how they were. I loved her before the evidence of the twin drop was there, and I still do. I would die for her if she asked me. But I can’t watch her with Ereon as he gives her his soul, and she gives hers in return.

A dark laughter filters through my memory from the vision I had, but I ignore it as I chase the high that I find right now between Anara’s legs. I pick up the pace and her hands clutch the blanket on the bed, her fingertips shooting sparks as she tries to control herself.

Leaning down, I press my lips against the curve of her spine. “Let go.” I want to feel her flames against my skin and I hope they burn me until nothing else matters. In one swift motion, she stands up, her body pivots to face me, and her gaze locks with mine as she forcefully pushes against my chest, causing me to stumble back in surprise, then she turns us, shoving me again.

The impact of her push sends me sprawling onto the bed, where I quickly sit upright. Taking control, she throws her legs over me and sultrily moves up and down. She teases my earlobe with her tongue and playfully demands, “You first.”

The anger inside of me swirls like a darkness blanketing everything. A roaring force filters through my veins as the flame begs to be released. With a simple thought, my body ignites. She smiles down at me as she continues to ride, lighting her own body with flames. Our flames intertwine, swirling and swaying in a seductive rhythm as she grinds her hips against mine. Our shared heat creates an intoxicating sensation that leaves me craving more. The flames rise above me, casting flickering shadows across the room and filling the air with the scent of burning wood. I lean up to look around for escaping sparks that may be causing the smell.

Her soft chuckle breaks the silence, grabbing my attention immediately. “A single ember will not leave this bed. I’ll make sure of it.” I trust her and wrap her long brown hair in my fist, arching her neck, and with a quick flick of my tongue up the side, the playful games between us resume.

We push on until the late hours of the night, our bodies drained and our bed reduced to nothing but charred remains. We lie in the ashes, feeling their gritty texture against our skin, our bodies intertwined in a tight embrace. The sound of our heavy breathing gradually fades away, leaving behind echoes of what we can never have. Magic lives in, and flows through me, as it does the others, but mine isn’t the graceful powers they wield — no, mine is an inferno waiting to erupt.

I left the tent early this morning, wanting to find food and return before having to face anyone. The soldiers are still waking and it’s the peaceful birds I see in the morning light that fill the air. The chirping, the normalcy of it all, it’s as if the battle that happened yesterday was just a dream, along with the night that followed. To forget all that has come before and start a day anew would almost be a blessing .

Heading to the watering station, I grab the green canteen from my hip. Leaning down to fill it from the spigot, I hear the gruff laugh of someone behind me. I turn, meeting Reph face to face. He walks past me, shoving me out of the way before filling his own canteen.

“And here I thought I would never have to deal with you again ...” He takes a swig, brushing his mouth with the back of his hands. “Even earned a promotion for getting rid of you.”

“No, you are here because you killed my mother.” I could pretend I don’t know who he is and hope that time has changed me enough that he wouldn’t recognize me, but it’s clear from his expression the first day he saw me that he knows who I am. When he ignored me inside the council tent I was furious. I wanted him to know that I had made it through the ranks even without his help, but now ... I would rather he just continue to ignore me.

“I’m here because I tried to murder her ... unsuccessfully, from what I hear. Reports say she ran back to her distant family in Midaeliea. Thankfully, King Atlas didn’t care about that. I still got my promotion.” He shrugs and tilts his head. “You look just like him.”

The weight of his words hangs in the air, leaving me in a state of shock. My palms get clammy as I let his words twist. My mother ... is alive. I used to dream of being with her again, when I was young. But as I grew up she became a thought I never wanted to remember. I wanted to put everything from before arriving in Antalis behind me — and I did. I quickly look back at Reph, his last sentence catching my attention .

“Him?” I stand up straighter.

“Surely you don’t think I would have killed my blood?” He squints, assessing me. “You don’t know. I thought by now you would have figured it out.” He comes to me, throwing his arm around my shoulder like he is about to offer words of advice. “Shahri was a whore and I couldn’t live with knowing that King Atlas’ bastard lived under my roof.”

I push him away, running a hand through my hair. No, that’s not true, it couldn’t be. Flames flicker, begging to be released from my fingertips. Ereon’s words from the meeting with Anara flit through my mind. “Felt like my body was on fire.” Fire. The King has fire — just like mine.

“The King of Shaston only ever has one heir, and that is Prince Ereon.” My words come out less confident than I expected.

“Yes ... a son that was already born. So one of you had to go. The King requested it was you. I was happy to oblige. Now here I am, leader of the northern camp.” He opens his arm as he bows.

I stumble away from him. No. That’s not …

“You should ask your father what happens when someone pledges themself to a woman, and then what happens when that woman chooses another.” The vision replays in my mind. My father. Not Reph — my father — the King of Shaston.

“I would keep quiet if you like your head, Prince. Wouldn’t want the heir to realize he has competition.”

Prince . Anara called me “ Prince ” last night. And the night I released her shackles, she said something else, “An answer to a question . ” She’s known .

The blaring horns pierce through the air, shattering the silence and jumbling my thoughts. With each step of the approaching kukhe , the trees tremble, and the ground quivers, filling the air with an unmistakable rattling sound again.