“What are you doing, Kael?” Cyrene asked, her voice hoarse.

“Did you think I’d just let you walk out of the city?” he asked.

“I suppose my answer should be no since you planned to cart me off back to Byern to claim your prize.” Her words were as cold as ice.

“And what is my prize?” he asked Cyrene.

Dean shifted an inch, and Kael embedded the tip of his sword into the front of Cyrene’s dress. One of the thin straps broke, and a trickle of blood pooled at the spot.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kael said.

Cyrene could feel Dean tense beside her, but he didn’t make another move forward.

“In fact, I would move back a few feet.”

Dean ground his teeth next to her and then did as Kael had said. Dean had no other choice.

“That’s better. I always like a little privacy with you,” he said to Cyrene. “So, tell me about this prize.”

“Do you think that, if you bring me back, Edric will give you the thing you want instead of keeping it for himself?” Cyrene asked.

“I’ll be a hero when I return. I’m quite certain I could have whatever I wanted.”

She rolled her eyes. Old habits die hard. “Oh, please. The whole reason you were sent here is because Edric believed I was kidnapped. He wants me back. But I wasn’t kidnapped, Kael. You and I both know that. I left.”

“And you didn’t say good-bye. How inconsiderate.”

“I didn’t say good-bye to anyone,” she reminded him. “Not even Edric.”

Her chest contracted but not like it had when she first made the decision to leave. With Edric, everything had been an electric pull, as bright and demanding as her magic hovering at her fingertips. She couldn’t let go any more than she could have earlier. The buzz was just as present around Kael. The thought irritated her and infatuated her.

But, with the distance between she and Edric, she didn’t feel that pull as strongly. Away from Byern, that pull to the Dremylon brothers felt like a strange, distant dream. As confusing as Serafina’s dreams.

Do I have feelings for Edric? Am I attracted to Kael? Or Is it just something that draws me to those damn boys…that draws them to me?

“And, if I return, I’ll decide whether or not I’m a prize to be won,” she stiffly told him.

“There’s something different about you,” he said, ignoring her last comment.

“I think I’m the same.” But she didn’t.

Her magic hummed in her veins, and her worldview had been opened in the last couple of months. Leifs existed. Braj and Indres existed. There was good and bad in everyone. No matter what she believed about Byern, Affiliates weren’t everything they were supposed to be. People looked down upon them in the rest of the world and disagreed with what she had been taught. Her education had only taken her so far. It hadn’t prepared her for hard travel, swordsmanship, magical training, meditation, hunger in the streets, starvation…women’s rights. She had so much to think about. Things she never would have considered before leaving her home.

So, yes, she was different. And she was glad. She never wanted to be that naive girl again.

“No, you don’t.”

She raised her chin. She had always been defiant at least.

“You’re coming with me, Cyrene.”

“No, I’m not, Kael.”

He reached out so suddenly that she hadn’t even seen him coming. He dragged her forward toward him until mere inches separated them. His sword was at her throat, and his bright blue-gray eyes bored down into her own. She felt that jolt pass between them, like a spark igniting a flame. Her head felt foggy…and everything went hazy.

“You’re coming with me.”

“What?” she whispered. Her eyes grew wide, and she had the strange sense of déjà vu.

“If I have to tie you to my horse and ride with you the entire way back to Byern, you’re leaving with me. Now.”

“Kael,” she breathed. Her voice was a mere whisper, carried away by the breeze.

She felt herself succumbing. Not just succumbing…she wanted to go with him. She shouldn’t have left in the first place. Kael knew what was right for her, and Byern could protect her and shelter her from harm. Nowhere else in the world was like Byern. It was her home.

“Come with me,” he said.

His lips were so close. Just a breath away. She could lean into that embrace and forget the world. Nothing else existed. Just her and him in that moment. All she wanted was Kael Dremylon.

“Yes,” she purred. “Yes, of course.”

She was desperate to clear the space between them. To feel his lips pressed against hers. Her mind could process nothing else in the world. She moved toward him and felt his sword bite into her neck.

She cried out, and before he could stop her, she stumbled backward a few steps. Her head cleared suddenly, as if she were coming out of a dense fog. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

Kael rushed toward her to regain his advantage, but Dean was there. He moved with a Leif-like grace, putting his sword between Cyrene and Kael.

“Give me a reason to kill you, pretty boy,” Dean growled. His voice was low and guttural.

He would do it. Cyrene could see it on his face. He would kill Kael in an instant if he made the wrong move.

Kael looked into his face and laughed. “The Prince of Eleysia, Cyrene? Do you bewitch men everywhere you go?”

Her response didn’t come. She just stared at Kael in disbelief.

What just happened? She had been yelling at him, and then as soon as he had touched her, she had lost all sense. She had been eager to give in to him and return to Byern. Forget her quest, and be with Kael. Creator, I tried to kiss him!

She couldn’t connect the dots. How did that happen?

“Cyrene, it’s time to go,” Dean said.

“What the hell did you just do?” Everything was coming into focus. “What did you just do?” she screamed.

Kael smiled slowly. It wasn’t the charming smile she was used to from Kael. It was something worse. Something more sinister. Dark and foreboding, like a black shadow sweeping over his elegant features. “You’re not the only one with secrets.”

Her head whirled. She didn’t know what that meant.

Kael turned his attention back to Dean. “Well?”

“Cyrene, go now.”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Kael said.

And then he started pacing his steps. They were fluid and crisp. The steps of a practiced swordsman. Cyrene had never seen him fight before, but she almost didn’t need to know how good he was. She remembered the way he danced. Light-footed, sure-footed. Competent and controlled. If he put half as much emphasis on swordplay as he did on everything else in his pampered life, then he was going to be good…great.

But Dean had just killed a Braj. That had to count for something.

She worried what it would mean if Dean and Kael were an even match…and even worse, if they weren’t. For as much as she didn’t want to return to Byern, she couldn’t bring herself to want to see Kael injured either.

“You think you can fight me?” Dean asked.

He sounded so sure of himself. She hoped that pride had been earned.

“No. I don’t think I can,” Kael said. “I know I can. Fight you and win.”

Dean laughed, but he was watching as Kael shifted and brought his sword down toward him. Dean blocked the touch, and steel clanged together. He ground his teeth as they fought against the weight of the blades. Kael barely looked like he was exerting any effort. In fact, he looked like he was having fun.

Cyrene felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped out of her skin.

“It’s just me,” Avoca whispered. “I left everyone else on the ship. We’re ready to sail. You should come with us.”

“I can’t until we have Dean.”

“Should we interfere?”

Cyrene had no idea. She wanted to stop this nonsense. The last thing they needed was bloodshed between the ruling nations. But this fight meant something. Her friends and Dean’s companions could overpower Kael, but this moment seemed necessary.

“Leave them,” she whispered.

“You believe this fight to be honorable?” Avoca asked.

“I believe it’s our way out.”

Avoca sighed heavily but didn’t say anything else.

Then, the guys moved. Quick footsteps, slicing movements, easy twists and turns. They were both practiced, seasoned fighters. Neither had the advantage, and each was straining to push back and overtake the other.

Kael spun to the right, crossing his sword and striking out at Dean. He missed by a hairbreadth. Dean dropped and rolled away from Kael. They rushed back together, and Dean pushed him backward. Closer and closer to the edge of the dock. The swords clashed off of each other. It looked like Dean was gaining the upper hand. He just needed to finish this.

Damn Kael for doing this! She just wanted to leave. It shouldn’t be this hard. She shouldn’t have to be this connected to him.

Then, something happened. And her heart stopped.

Kael whirled around so fast that he was a blur. Everything shifted. Even the night air changed directions, as if in connection with him. Dean couldn’t move fast enough. He tried to pull up his sword to block the stroke, but Kael was faster, impossibly faster, and his blade slid into Dean’s shoulder.

Cyrene jumped forward out of instinct, but there was nothing she could do. She cried out in disbelief.

“No, no, no!” she yelled, dashing to his side.

She didn’t even care that Kael was hovering over him. Kael yanked his sword out of Dean’s shoulder, and it made a sickening squelching noise. Cyrene shook at the sound. This couldn’t be happening.

Kael reared back to finish the deed, but Cyrene jumped in front of him.

“Don’t! Don’t kill him.”

Dean groaned on the ground, and blood was spilling out of his shoulder far alarmingly fast. He needed medical attention.

“Please, please, Kael.”

She had no idea how in a split second the advantage had changed. Dean had gone from winning to this. She could have stopped this. But, instead, she let the boys have their stupid battle. All for what? Nothing.

“And what will you give me to stop?” he asked.

“Kael,” she whispered, pleading. She only had one thing to offer, and she couldn’t go back home.

He took a confident step toward her, and she felt the hazy feeling sweep over her once more. He hadn’t even touched her, but she was losing focus. It hung just on the edge of her consciousness. It wasn’t quite as overpowering as before. More hesitant but still…there.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Showing you just how easy it would be.”

Black tendrils caressed her skin, pulling her toward him. The spark that was always there sizzled, and an oily grip drew her toward him. She shivered all over. Panic was laced as much with the need that she felt, but she didn’t understand.

“How are you doing this?” she asked. She knew he could feel the fear thrumming through her body.

“I think you know.”

Magic.

Creator! Kael Dremylon has magic. Something extremely powerful and completely awful! He shouldn’t be able to do this. It didn’t make any sense. Viktor Dremylon hadn’t had magic. That was why he couldn’t be with Serafina. It didn’t run in his blood. How else can Kael possibly have it?

“Me. Take me,” she said. Her heart broke at the words spilling out of her mouth. She’d do anything to save the people she cared about.

Kael held the sword, still slick with Dean’s blood, at his side and smiled like he had really just won a prize when the words tumbled from her lips. He circled her wrist with his hand and crushed his lips down on hers.

It was like a jolt of electricity. The touch seemed to amplify his powers, but it also brought hers to life. She had ignored the powers at her fingertips before. She had destroyed buildings and possibly killed men who were doing their jobs. She couldn’t risk it again. Even against Kael. Especially against Kael.

But he was pulling it to the surface, and for a second, she let go, and was flooded her with magic.

“There you are,” he whispered against her lips.

“You’re the rightful heir,” she breathed.

“Someday soon, everyone will know.” He smirked, triumphant. “Now, go.”

He shoved her away from him, and the fog lifted slower than last time. It hovered in her mind with a denseness that wouldn’t exactly dissipate.

“What?” she asked in confusion.

“You’ll come back to me,” he said knowingly. “And, when you do, I’ll be waiting.”

She shook her head to try to push away her confusion. “You’re letting me go?”

“You’ll remember this, Cyrene. You’ll remember and know…it’s all your fault. Everything that happens. You’ll remember, and you’ll come back to me.”

“Never,” she breathed.

But he just smiled before turning around and walking off the dock, like they had just had tea instead of fought with swords…and magic.