It’s both a warning and a caution. Kaithar knows me too well.
I don’t say anything. Cold anger makes me silent. And part of me is afraid of what I’d do—if they harmed her.
I’m not so sure I can make any promises to Kaithar right now. “I’ll do what needs to be done. And I’ll seek out and strike at the heart of whatever’s causing the undead to rise.”
Kaithar’s expression turns solemn. “I believe Kinnivar and the guards were being controlled. There’s no way they would have betrayed you otherwise.”
At the mention of the betrayal, my anger burns ever colder. I remember Kinnivar’s strange behavior when we last met in my office. Was he already planning on betraying me, or had his mind been corrupted by dark magic?
And to think that he was the one that found my father’s message scroll.
That was genuine, though. Nobody can duplicate my father’s handwriting.
My mind spins. None of this makes sense. And I know for certain that outside of my innermost circle, I can’t trust anyone.
“Some can be infected,” Ciel says softly. “From a bite or scratch of an undead, the living can be infected, and controlled by the same one that commands the undead horde.”
That would make sense, and it would be the most reassuring explanation.
The implications are terrifying. If more of my men were to be turned…
“Make sure command and all the soldiers are aware of this,” I order. “They must wear protective attire and avoid being bitten or scratched at all costs. If an injury from an undead is to occur…”
“If your men are infected by the undead, we can attempt purification,” Sylhara says gently. “But a cure isn’t guaranteed. It depends entirely on the will of the infected individual. The only other alternative is death.”
I meet her pale-and-dark eyes. “See to it that whatever needs to be done is done.”
She offers the slightest of bows. “Your will shall be done, O’Kral.”
Her words are deferent, but there’s a warning in her wintry gaze.
Uphold your end of the bargain.
There’s always a condition. I must continue to keep the lands of the Khatur safe. The Rahavan Empire will never invade beyond the mountains again.
I glance out the window. The moon casts a silvery glow across the land. Cold seeps through the walls, overpowering the warmth from the glowing hearth.
It’s quiet.
Unnervingly so.
And I’m about to walk into a trap, with Finley by my side.
48
FINLEY
We stand high on the castle walls, watching thin clouds scud across the night sky, momentarily dampening the bright glow of the moon.
The wind whips around us.
Energy ripples through my body. It feels like sparks are dancing in my veins. I can barely hold myself together. I fear that if I lose my composure, the wild dryad magic will spill out of me in all directions, tying me down to the earth itself.
The trees sway in the wind, whispering their dark secrets to me.
Release our daughter from the prison of iron and stone, which reeks of corruption and decay. Release her. She must claim her dues. He must take it all.
And our child will come unto her own.
He must take it all? Are they talking about him? I steal a glance at Corvan, who is looking out across his lands. His expression is cold and distant, his face inhumanly flawless. He could be carved from marble right now. Since I met him, it’s almost as if… he’s changed a little. Become more unearthly, less human. I suspect that I’ve contributed to that change more than a little.
Not that I mind. Underneath it all, he’s still the same old Corvan, and his presence beside me is the most reassuring thing ever.
“Ready?” he says softly. He doesn’t need to say much more. He’s already explained it to me in detail—what to expect when we enter the Lukirian palace; the seat of all power in Rahava and the place where Corvan was raised. He’ll go straight to the emperor—his father.
It doesn’t matter if they try to stop him.
He’ll kill anyone that stands in his way.
The thought of it fills me with horror and dread, but I don’t dare hold him back. I know what’s at stake. I know what he’s been through.
I know what I want.
And Valdon Duthriss—Emperor of Rahava—isn’t exactly a saint himself.
Neither are the nobility of the Rahavan court.
In fact, they plunder, steal, and kill with surprising regularity.
My father included.
Steeling myself, I nod.
I’m ready.
With great tenderness, Corvan takes me into his arms, and I’m used to it by now; the feeling of weightlessness, of his immense and impossible strength. “I’m sorry, Finley. This is unorthodox, and rather infuriating, I’d imagine, but it’s by far the quickest way for us to move. Consider it an aerial tour of our beautiful country.”
“The calm before the storm,” I say softly. “I’ve never been to Lukiria, so I’m rather intrigued by it all. If it weren’t for the circumstances of our visit, I’d be quite excited.”
“Really? No matter the size of your family’s estate, you’re still a lady of the peerage. I can’t believe you were never afforded the opportunity to visit the capital.”
“You’ve met my father.”
“Fair point.” His brow furrows in consternation. “I should have dismembered a limb, at least. Let me make it up to you. When I’ve brought the empire under control, I’ll take you on a personal tour of the capital and the surrounding regions. I know that place very well. It’s where I grew up, after all. I’m quite certain I can find a few spots that will take your breath away.”
I stare at him in mild disbelief. How is it possible that he can speak of dismembering my father and yet be so sweet within the same sentence?
You’ve already taken my breath away more than once, you know. You infuriating, magnificent man.
“I’ll be content with just the view for now,” I murmur, pressing into his unshakeable form; his familiar, comforting warmth. “When things have settled down, you can take me wherever you want.”
A tiny thrill courses through me as I imagine the possibility of a life without threat; with Corvan at the height of his powers and I, free from the shackles of my past.
Ruen Castle, which once felt so vast, suddenly feels very, very small.
“I’m sorry our first trip away from the castle has to be this, but I’ll make it up to you.” Corvan tightens his arms, making me feel safe against the cold and the whipping wind and the terrible unknown.
Then he leaps up onto the parapet, soundless and light, as if he’s floating in the air.
“Let’s go,” he whispers in my ear, his tone both deep and featherlight, sending a ripple of goosebumps across my skin.
How delicious he is.
How can I be afraid of anything when I’m with this man? When he backs me up with his heart and soul?
And he’s swift and resolute. Always constant. Never wavering.
Together, we step into the frosted, moonlight night.
We’re in the sky, amongst the glittering stars, and the trees are whispering my name.
Could darkness’s embrace feel any more seductive than this? And if the world, lying at our feet, falls away, what would I do?