Chapter 31

 

“She’s gone.” Reggie stalked into the parlor, coat billowing wide around his long strides. “I went through the whole house.”

Only Magnus stood inside, a solitary figure black before the hearth. Firelight tinted the ends of his hair, creating a dark cloud almost as thick as the one hovering over his bowed head. It never lifted, not even when his brother joined him.

“She’s gone,” he repeated to the flames. “I told you she was.”

“Well, we have to find her,” Reggie said, waving widely towards the open doors. “It’s freezing out there and she has nowhere to go.”

Magnus remained unmoved by the urgency glowing bright in the other man’s brown eyes. His own stayed fixed on the fire, blank, despite the tension in his stooped shoulders. The hand braced on the mantel closed, his only outward reaction.

“Magnus!”

“You find her.”

Reggie recoiled as though those three words had physically assaulted him. He stared at his brother, mouth gaping, eyes wide in utter bemusement, but he caught himself quickly and shoved Magnus’s shoulder.

“What’s the matter with you? Zara is out there … alone! She’s probably terrified and lost, and you—”

“She’s better off wherever she is.”

Reggie blinked. “What?”

The empty void behind his eyes extended to Magnus’s voice when he raised his head and met his brother’s outraged glower. “We never should have brought her here, Reg. She made the right call leaving. She’s better off gone.”

Her heart was breaking even before her eyes opened. It twisted in her chest, a desperate wrenching of an injured bird trapped in its cage. She could feel it throwing itself against the bars of her ribs, begging to burst free and escape the pain. But there was no escape. Not for it. Not for her. They were both stuck reliving the nightmare, reliving the sight of Magnus letting them go forever.

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. Losing something she’d only had a few weeks shouldn’t have felt like red hot talons were tearing at her insides. She shouldn’t be waking up with a sob lodged in her throat and tears soaking into her pillow, but the pain was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was at a level she never believed possible.

Magnus was letting her go. He was glad she was gone. He regretted having ever met her.

Zara struggled to push upright. She fought against the weight pinning her face down on the mattress. Her stiff joints whimpered in protest, unwilling to move properly in defiance after having been wedged into one position the entire night. They creaked and cracked with every careful motion as she pushed off her stomach without trudging on her wings. Her neck kinked, refusing to twist back to forward and the sharp ping made her cry out.

The wings hadn’t vanished as she’d hoped. They hadn’t returned to whatever place they’d come from. They remained strapped to her shoulder blades, enormous pains in her neck … literally. Not even the sight of her new room was enough to distract her from their continued hindrance. She barely noticed the buttery glow of warm sunlight shimmering through gossamer drapes or the unfamiliar space blurred on the other side. The finely woven threads of gold glistened with every gentle brush of early morning breeze sweeping in through the open French doors. The scent of roses settled in the air. It washed over what remained of her nightmare, fading it into a distant memory, one that no longer even seemed real. She hung on to it, needing it to help her forget, but it merely clouded the pain. It was still all too present when she shoved the drapes back to reveal the room she hadn’t bothered to survey the night before.

It was as grand as one would expect of a royal chamber. Every sliver of furniture adorning the cavernous space was a piece of artwork, beautifully crafted slabs of ivory and marble veined in gold. Crystal dripped from the ceiling, cascading ropes gracefully looping in tiers. They reflected off the walls, rainbows of color shivering on the roses and thorns stamped into ivory. The gold pattern shone in an intricate knot along three of the four sides. The fourth was a blank canvas showcasing only a door.

Zara slipped off the edge of the mattress and stood. Her toes sank into the plush bed of carpet. She nearly lost her feet to the ankles and part of her wondered if one could sleep on the downy jungle and if it would feel like sleeping on a cloud.

She carried the thought with her as she made her way to the door with the empty walls. But once her feet moved from carpet to cool marble, the novelty of it faded for the glittery streams of gold woven into smooth stone. They ran in shattered edges all across the floor, all the way into the bathroom.

It wasn’t exactly like the bathroom at the Maxwell’s. It was larger and brighter, but it had the familiar tub and smaller tubs bolted into the wall beneath the mirrors. There was the porcelain bucket of water Kyaerin had explained was for personal business and the indoor rain maker. Everything required for cleansing, except for the hole in the center of the room, a gaping chasm with tiny holes along the inside and a silver faucet. It could have been a tub, except it was imbedded straight into the ground and there was already a tub. Why would they need two?

“Miss?”

Zara yelped and spun to face the owner of the intruding voice.

The girl in the doorway jumped as well and blinked big, green eyes. She recovered quickly and snapped forward at the waist in a deep bow.

“Forgive me, miss. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

She was small and slender with a riot of dark curls and soft, creamy skin that complimented the shards of gold embedded in the soft moss green of her eyes. She wore a loose, flowy wrap in a grayish-purple tone that emphasized her complexion. It was held in place by a band of gold around the throat, leaving her shoulders and back bare before cinching around the middle and cascading over the hips to the floor. The material shimmered slightly, and when she moved, Zara could have sworn it was transparent. But that could have been a trick of the light.

“Please.” Zara motioned her to rise. “It’s fine.”

Her name was Lae, from what Zara snatched from the girls rattled mind. Kyros had sent her to help Zara get ready, but she’d been given strict instructions not to disturb her if she was still sleeping. The other instruction was to report how Zara seemed, which would have been endearing if she had yet to make up her mind about her dear older brother.

There were other thoughts, random snatches of stray images that flitted in and out of focus, too fast to get a grip on. The girl’s mind seemed to be a highway of speed, always in a rush, always getting tangled and overlapping each other, but one thing was very clear — her desire to please Kyros. Her king. Her lover.

That caught Zara’s attention.

She couldn’t have been very old, certainly not old enough to have been with a man. Zara was by no means an expert, but even she knew when a girl was too young.

“I’m Lae,” the girl stammered, nervous enough to make Zara nervous. “His Highness has sent me to prepare you for breakfast.”

“I’m Zara.”

Lae didn’t seem to know what to do with that information. She glanced at Zara, then quickly swept a gaze over the room as if inspecting it for something.

“Would you like a bath?”

She was already moving into the room before Zara could answer, but rather than go to the tub, she went to the hole in the floor. The slit in her dress parted when she bent at the faucet, revealing a large portion of thigh. She didn’t seem to notice as she snapped on the water. She tested it with a small hand, adjusting the temperature until it met her standards. Several bottles were twisted open and large amounts of liquid were poured in, followed by several scoops of something gritty that reminded Zara of pink sand. The same wet hand plunged into the rising pool and swirled until the top frothed with foam and filled the room with the scent of something sweet. Honeysuckles, maybe. Zara couldn’t be sure, but it was lovely.

“There.”

Satisfied, Lae pushed to her feet. The square bodice tightened across her small chest when she rose and Zara realized it really was transparent. Everything from the dark circles of her nipples to the triangle between her legs was perfectly visible in certain angles, but given that the men barely wore anything at all, maybe less clothing was just how things were done in the south.

Zara pushed her shock aside and focused on the hole.

“What is the purpose of this?” she asked, gesturing to the rapidly filling cavity.

Lae ran small hands down the tops of her thighs. “It’s a bath,” she explained, darting Zara a bemused flick of her eyes, but her thoughts contradicted the softness of her voice. “Can’t she talk? Koa never said she couldn’t speak. Is there something wrong with her?” She swept a hurried once over down Zara’s front before respectfully turning her gaze back to the roaring faucet, but her thoughts continued, rushing forward as rapidly as the water tumbling into the bath. “She doesn’t look like us. She certainly doesn’t look like His Highness. Maybe she’s a traitor. A spy.”

Zara started to assure her, non-too gently, that she wasn’t a spy and that her thoughts were rude, but decided against it. The last two groups of people she’d revealed her secret to had seen her as a threat, as something to be feared and hated. If nothing else, this could be her third chance at something passing for normal.

“What is that one for?” She pointed to the claw-footed tub beneath the wall of windows overlooking a lush garden in full bloom.

“That’s also a tub,” Lae stated a bit hesitantly, as if realizing how ridiculous that actually was. “It was added later,” she went on quickly, attempting to justify the rationality of the situation. “Her former Highness modernized a few of the rooms, but originally, this was the bathing area.”

“I see.” She didn’t, but who was she to point out the flaw in the design? “How long have you been serving here?”

Lae frowned in deliberation. Zara could hear her counting the years off in her head, calculating from the time her mother had brought her in to see the cook for a position as a prepper in the kitchen. She’d been about eight, she surmised.

“Ten years,” she concluded at last.

“That’s a long time. Do you like it?”

She hesitated, not out of uncertainty, but wariness of the question. “Why is she asking so many questions? This has to be a trap.” But to Zara, she nodded slowly. “Yes, very much.”

Zara dropped any other questions she may have had. The girl was already suspicious enough and she didn’t want to scare her off; whether Lae knew it or not, she could become a great asset to her and Zara could use as many of those as she could get.

“Thank you,” she said instead. “I can handle it from here.”

Relief flickered over those green eyes, but was quickly concealed with a lowering of her lashes and a small bow.

“I’ll set out your clothes.”

Zara started to tell her she had no clothes, but Lae was already gone and the door was being closed quietly behind her.

Her dress was beyond ruined, Zara realized with a swarm of mortification. The hem was stained black with gray fingers creeping up the skirt. The underarms were ringed with a sickly yellow tinge that filled her with a surge of melancholy. This was a problem she’d never had back at the temple. Stains were never an issue. It wasn’t permitted. Their clothes needed to be as pristine and pure as they were. Anything different was a clear disregard for the gods. The other girls would have been horrified if they could see her now.

But what could she do? She didn’t have the luxury of having new fabrics delivered every other week. The bag she’d smuggled out of the temple with her was lost when those men grabbed her. Her spare change of clothes was no doubt lost somewhere in the sands. How could that be her fault?

Yet, staring at her filthy garments, all she felt was disgust at her circumstances. She’d allowed herself to fall so far from the creature of divinity that she was. She’d allowed herself to be belittled, ridiculed, and even betrayed, but to what end?

It was a question she couldn’t answer, not even in the privacy of her own mind. She had lost herself somewhere and that was on her. She couldn’t blame others for the way they treated her when she’d simply turned the other cheek every time. Grace was a luxury people in her position should never allow themselves. It was easily mistaken for weakness.

Well, no more.

She’d been used and cast aside once too often. It wouldn’t happen again.

Resolved in her decision, Zara stripped and stepped gingerly into the rising steam. The heat coursed up her naked flesh, a shower of shivers that made her stomach muscles clench. Her nipples hardened into sharp points that prickled tiny sensations down her spine. She gasped as she submerged fully in a single dive. Water rose up over her head and the world plunged with her into blissful silence.

She stayed there, letting the roar of the water and her own heartbeat become her only source of companionship. She closed her eyes and drifted in the lull. If only she could make everything else in her life so simple. Maybe there was a place out there, surrounded by water and sand where she could just live out the rest of her life without…

Whatever she wanted to live without never became known when the vision grasped her by the throat and slammed her into battle. All around her, chaos rumbled. The ground trembled beneath the thundering feet of men and women, demons and angels. Weapons clanked, a shrieking song of death. Bodies dropped, already forgotten before they even hit the ground. The sky bled, thick droplets of blood that ran in whole rivers through the streets. Buildings burned, sending coils of thick, black smoke up to join the cyclone descending from the heavens. Lightning splintered the earth, releasing forks of fire into the air. Figures tumbled into the fissures, their screams worse than those being sliced by claws and swords.

Zara gasped. She couldn’t breathe. The air was a solid mass lodging itself in her windpipe. Something held her as she flailed. She tried to scream, tried to fight. The world was clapping between reality and vision, flickering mid war and the swaying foam in the tub.

She was dying. She could feel her lungs screaming, her heart struggling.

A face appeared above her, distorted, but close. She had a split second to think, Magnus! When hands had her. Hard fingers bit into soft flesh and she was ripped free. Air, beautiful, glorious air, surged down her throat, and she was coughing, sputtering, and gasping. The lip of the tub collided with her kneecap when she was hauled out, but the pain was nothing to the fire in her chest.

“Zara!”

Something thick and warm was twisted around her, tight enough that the little oxygen she’d managed to draw in stayed locked in her lungs.

The same hands that had pulled her out grabbed her face. They pushed back strands of hair to peer into her watery eyes.

“What happened?”

Kyros was staring down at her, golden eyes bright with concern. They were much warmer than Magnus’s, she noted faintly. Even in the midst of compassion, Magnus’s eyes were always hard, always too dark. There was never softness in his eyes, only in his touch, which was the complete opposite of Kyros, whose touch was iron, possessive and unyielding.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “I don’t know what happened.”

It was a lie he didn’t seem to believe. He glanced from her to the tub and back as if waiting for one of them to tell him the truth, but Zara knew she couldn’t. She had trusted the Maxwell’s when she told them what she was. Divulging a secret like hers hadn’t worked well for her in the past. Revealing she could see the future had kept her imprisoned to a sadist for two years of her life. She doubted she would be offered a chance to escape by becoming an oracle a second time, not when she’d given away her only ticket back into the temple.

“I slipped,” she continued her lie. “I think I got caught in my wings and couldn’t figure out which way was up.”

The tub was barely large enough for such a fate, but if Kyros thought so, he never let on. Instead, the pressure where he held her arms loosened and he took a slow step back. His head turned to where Lae stood a few feet away, hands over her mouth.

“I’m okay,” she assured them both.

“I’ll be in the dining hall,” he told Lae.

The girl inclined her head once, but he was already moving past her.

He closed the door lightly behind him. Then it was just her and Lae in an awkward silence. Zara adjusted the heavy towel draped around her shoulders and tried to straighten her spine, but there was no pretending dignity when she could see her own reflection in the mirror and she looked like a drowned rat.

Resigned, she decided to simply go with it. “Is there a place I can wash my dress?”

Lae blinked once, but even she wasn’t quick enough to conceal the subtle flicker of confusion that flitted through her mind.

“What does she mean wash? Who would want to keep that thing?” Outwardly, she offered Zara a small smile, the kind one reserved for children and idiots. “I can have it sent down, if you like. I have some dresses laid out on the bed for you, if you want to see if one fits for now.”

The dresses were fancier versions of the one Lae was wearing but in white or gold. That seemed to be the colors of choice where royalty was concerned. Zara chose a white one with hints of threaded silver. Lae helped her drag the fabric into place over her head. The gold loop was fastened around her neck and the cord tugged tight around her waist. It was much lighter than her gown and felt a lot more revealing given the sheerness of it, but unlike Lae’s, hers came with a light slip sewn underneath for an added bit of privacy.

Her hair was combed out and twisted into an elaborate half up, half down creation Zara knew she could never pull off on her own. It was threaded through with fresh flowers and spritzed with a perfume that reminded her of a meadow.

When Lae started on her makeup and jewelry, Zara shook her head.

“This is fine. Thank you.”

Lae stared a moment, not entirely sure Zara was being serious, but the idea of having her body and face weighed down by anything made her skin itch. Cold stones and metal had never appealed to her, nor did the idea of being splattered by paints. The flowers in her hair were enough.

“Can you tell me which way the dining hall is?”

Deciding that Zara really meant it, Lae closed the jewelry box and motioned her to follow. She was quiet for most of the way, face set in a perfect line of submissive pride, but her mind roared with her questions, her doubts, and even a slight glimmer of envy.

“What kind of princess doesn’t wear jewelry?” she kept wondering in absolute bafflement. “Or makeup? How is she supposed to represent the kingdom if she looks so common? She’ll embarrass His Highness for sure. I better not get blamed for this.”

Zara cut her off, her temples beginning to throb. She allowed her attention to wander to their surroundings, to the ivory and gold that seemed so popular. Not so much the ivory once they descended the steps from the royal chambers to the main area of the castle. There, it was solid gold everywhere. Whole walls crafted from the precious metal. It dripped from the ceilings and carpeted the floors. Paintings were framed in it, vases were dipped in it. It gleamed with blinding urgency. It was just too much.

“Where did all the gold come from?” she asked the girl, wondering how an entire village could have so much of it that they built their homes of it.

Lae studied the passing décor as if only just noticing what they were made of, but maybe to her, it wasn’t nearly as fascinating.

“The gold has always been here,” she said simply. “The first Draconian king, King Noi found it when searching for a new home for his people after they were nearly slaughtered by humans. He traveled across the ocean with only twelve men, leaving behind his wife and child and braving a new world. But everywhere he went, the climate remained too cold for our blood. It stayed that way for months with no end.” She paused and glanced back at Zara. “We now know that’s because they’d arrived in the winter, and if they’d waited a few more months, it would have been summer, but they didn’t know that.”

“Where did they come from?”

Lae pursed her lips. “There’s mention of an Eden, somewhere where it was hot and summer all year round, but no actual location is ever given. We think it might have been Australia, or somewhere in Europe since that’s where the majority of Dragon lore seems to come from.”

Zara had no idea where those places were, but she nodded.

Lae continued. “We don’t think they’d ever seen winter before arriving, which was why it seemed to surprise them so much. But King Noi stayed, determined not to return without something. He lost men to the elements and starvation. He probably would have lost all of them if he hadn’t found the mountain.”

“Mountain?”

Lae nodded. “It’s not there anymore, but when King Noi wrote about it, he described it as a sight to behold. It went up into the clouds and, from a distance, resembled a dragon’s head.” She chuckled. “I think that parts a bit exaggerated. He was half crazed by this point. He only went into the mountain to get away from the storm. Next thing you know, he comes out on the other side and its summer. The trees are blooming, birds are singing, the whole place was a replica of the home he’d left behind. He returned to his homeland, packed up his family and the rest of his people and brought them here. It wasn’t until years later that they discovered the volcano underneath their paradise … along with all the buried gold.” She gave Zara a smirk. “You know dragons and their gold.”

She didn’t, but she smiled back like she did.

“That’s the story.”

“Is there any gold left in the volcano?”

Lae scoffed. “Tons. We could probably dip the whole world in the stuff.” She paused, wrinkled her nose. “Okay, not the whole world, but there’s a lot … and heavily guarded,” she added with an edge that had Zara glancing sideways at her. “Only two people know the location of the entrance; the king and the guard.”

Zara wondered if the girl thought she wanted to steal the gold for herself, which was laughable. She had no use for it.

There was no more talk of it as they reach a set of enormous doors stamped at the entrance of a cavernous terrace built into the side of the castle, overlooking a rolling valley. A single table was placed in the center, long enough to sit twelve comfortably, but only two spots were actually set.

Kyros occupied one. He sat in the high back seat with one arm propped on the armrest, the hand loosely curled at his chin as he looked out over the valley below. He was still in a loincloth, his hair a dark cape around his wide shoulders. In the daylight, there was no missing the swirling pattern marking his torso and the whole of one shoulder, or just how incredibly enormous he actually was. Even Octavian seemed small in comparison and up until that moment, the eldest Maxwell had been the biggest man she’d ever seen.

He turned away from the scenery when Zara approached. His gaze flicked from her to Lae standing just over Zara’s shoulder. It was quick, barely a second with a perfectly blank mask, but Zara didn’t miss it. Not his glance. Not her glance. Not the silent, fuck, I miss her, nor the way Lae broke a little when she turned away.

He loved her.

The realization stopped Zara inches from the seat being held out for her by a guard. Her head turned from one to the other, unable to close her mouth or conceal her wonder.

“Zara?”

She shook free of her discovery and took the chair on his left. The guard tucked her in and stepped away discreetly. There were two more stationed around the chamber, but Zara only noticed how silently Lae had slipped out.

“Are you hungry?”

Thankfully, he didn’t wait for an answer. She wasn’t sure she could keep her secret if she opened her mouth. Already the need to ask was an instant push at the back of her mind, but it wasn’t something a normal person would know to ask.

He motioned to the guard who had helped with her chair and the guard vanished through the door.

“Do you have everything?” Kyros went on, sitting back in his seat. “Lae can get you anything you need.”

Knowing what she knew, she didn’t miss the little catch in his voice when he said her name.

“She’s very nice,” Zara hedged, leaving her mind wide open.

To his credit, Kyros merely nodded. “She’s been a loyal servant for years.”

Ten years, Zara remembered Lae telling her, but whatever was between her and the king was less than that. Two, maybe three years, if Kyros’s memories were anything to go by. The Lae in them was younger, but not by much. They mostly consisted of them together in dark corners and in the privacy of his bedroom. Their stolen moments were filled with hot, frenzied passion and enough heart ache to make Zara want to weep. It made her want to ask why they weren’t together if he loved her so much, but she couldn’t.

“Thank you for taking me in,” she said instead.

Kyros frowned as if she’d spoken another language. “This is your home, Zara. This is where you belong.”

“But I’m not really family,” she reminded him.

His frown deepened. “We share a mother. That makes us family.”

We share a mother.

Zara had always known she had a mother. Every creature did. But she always had a hard time believing the woman actually existed. She never thought she’d hear anyone say, we share a mother.

“I never knew about you,” he said after a moment of silence. “I would have looked for you if I had.”

It was said with such genuine regret, it almost made her reach for the hand curled on the table between them.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t know you existed either.”

“But I should have known,” he thought miserably. “I’m the eldest. How did I never see her? How did they hide her from me?”

“There’s another,” she told him. “Our … mother had another child.”

Kyros nodded. “She was before me. She was taken by demons.”

“Do you know who the father was?”

He shook his head. “Mother was very … liberal. She had many lovers, much to grandmother’s chagrin.”

Tiana, the woman who sold Zara to Baron. Zara had only met her once, but there was no love lost there.

She did, however, briefly wonder if she should tell Kyros about Liam and the long, lost sister. She wondered if it would make any difference. After what Kyros did, sister or not the Maxwell’s wouldn’t welcome him. She wondered if Liam would want to meet his daughter after what happened. After all, she was still related to the man who killed his wife.

“Why did you kill Kyaerin?”

It didn’t seem to matter how often he answered, or how often the reasoning was made clear, she never seemed to understand it. It infuriated her nearly as much as her constant asking was annoying him.

Nevertheless, he replied, “I had orders.”

“Magnus was your friend.”

It wasn’t a question. She saw it in his mind every time Kyaerin was brought up. Even now, he still saw Magnus as a brother, a friend. And it wasn’t that he was delusional. He understood what he’d done and he knew that bridge was burned to the ground, because like her, he knew Magnus would never forgive him. Magnus was incapable of turning the other cheek, even if Kyros saved the lives of every one of his brothers and his dog, Magnus would never welcome him back.

Yet, for Kyros, nothing had changed. He would still ride into battle with Magnus. He would still trust the other man with his back.

It baffled her.

“He will always be my friend.” One, long finger traced the smooth curve of his plate. “We have been in battle together. Men who have shed blood together will always remain friends.”

Zara considered that and wondered if Magnus would feel the same. Somehow, she doubted it. If there was one thing she knew about Magnus Maxwell with an outstanding amount of certainty, it was the fact that he held a grudge like nobody’s business. If he made it his mission to kill all demons because of what his lover did to his children, what would he do to Draconians because of what Kyros did to his mother? What would he do to her because she knew about it? For the first time since Magnus stepped into her life, she was actually terrified of him.

“Are you okay?”

Zara nodded and turned her attention to the majestic scenery stretching out beyond the terrace lip. The flawless blue hovered over the perfect green. It was a beautiful day with just the right amount of calm to almost make her forget, just not everything.

The food arrived and nothing more was said until the last of the dishes had been cleared away. Zara couldn’t even remember half of what had been placed in front of her. She barely recalled eating, but breakfast ended with Kyros offering her his hand and helping her to her feet.

“I should give you a tour, seeing as how this is your new home.”

It occurred to her to tell him she had no plans to stay there for longer than she had to, but a tour sounded like a great way to learn more about her mother’s family. Plus, she still had questions and Kyros was the only person who could answer them.

“Can you show me how to get rid of the wings?” she asked.

His gaze went over her head to where the bends in her wings peeked up. The right corner of her lips twitched upward, mirroring the amusement glimmering in his eyes. He ran his tongue over his top teeth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen an adult with their wings out before.”

Zara frowned slightly. “Up until yesterday, I didn’t even know I had wings.”

He gave a snort that must have been a laugh and motioned her to follow.

They walked down a series of stairs and several corridors to a set of beautiful glass doors. A light breeze greeted them before they stepped through.

They stood on a terrace looking down on a garden of roses and marble statues. There were other pathways leading away to different sections, different gardens, different clusters of flowers.

She wondered how the vegetation grew year-round. There had to be more to their existence in the winter than simply some volcano. It didn’t seem possible for a whole valley to cause a full seasonal change based on something underground. It should have still snowed there, yet there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

“Don’t you like roses?”

Zara realized she’d been glowering at the bushes and quickly righted her features. “No, they’re beautiful.”

Kyros studied her a moment. His narrowed eyes searched her face.

“Why don’t you talk?”

She almost sighed. She hated that question. Every time someone asked, it made her feel just a little dumber, like she was somehow too stupid or too lazy not to know how.

“I wasn’t taught,” she said, struggling to contain her annoyance.

He considered that while he surveyed something over her head. He did it for so long, she almost looked back.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said at last. “You tell me where you’ve been and I’ll answer all your questions, and teach you everything you missed, including how to be a Draconian.”

A part of her wanted to refuse. Those were private memories, nightmares she didn’t want to share with anyone, but what he was offering her was a chance she may never get again. Besides, who said she had to tell him everything?

“Okay.”

Satisfied, he took a step closer.

“Controlling your wings is like controlling any other part of your body,” Kyros began, taking Zara by the shoulders and turning her to face him. “If you can move your arms, you can move your wings.”

“I don’t want to move them,” Zara said. “I want them to go away.”

“You need to move them first.”

He took a step away from her, and with a flex of his arms, extended his wings, massive, leathery spans. They burst from his back, longer than even hers with crimson veins crossing the ink surface. They flapped once in a fluid ripple before folding lazily around his shoulders.

“Why do you put them away?” she asked, eyeing the majestic lines.

“They can be a hindrance.”

She couldn’t argue that.

“How do you put them away?”

The wings unfurled from around him, stretching wide before closing tight against his back. He turned so she could see them slide into his shoulder blades, shrinking until there was nothing but smooth skin once more.

For the sheer length and size, realistically, it shouldn’t have been possible. The body wasn’t equipped to hide such things, and yet, she’d seen it with her own eyes.

“You have to feel it,” Kyros said, moving around her.

She felt him at her back, but she didn’t turn, not even when he slipped a hand around her waist and flattened his whole palm across her stomach.

The gesture unnerved her. The uncomfortable sensation had her muscles stiffening. She shifted, but he stayed firmly in place.

“Here.”

He ran the pad of two fingers on his free hand on either side of her spinal column, between her wings. The calluses scratched bare skin, sending an odd chill through her. Goose bumps quickly followed, making her nerves prickle and the place he’d touched itch. It wasn’t at all how Magnus made her feel when he touched her. It wasn’t even how Reggie made her feel. She knew the difference. Kyros’s touch didn’t thrill her, nor did it put her at ease. If anything, it made her want to shake him off.

He rubbed the spot again, slower, with more deliberation. A feather light caress that mirrored the whisper of his exhale brushing the curve of her neck. The fingers splayed across her abdomen burned through the light fabric of her dress, making her acutely aware of their heat, their weight … and his nearness.

She jerked away before she could stop herself, untangling him from around her. The immediate loss filled her with an inexplicable need to leave, to return to Magnus. She had never wanted anyone more than she wanted him in that moment.

“Come. I’ll show you the library.”

He didn’t wait for her to follow. He didn’t even question her reaction. It was as though nothing had happened.

Maybe it hadn’t, she thought, her mind a mess. Maybe it was all in her head. Maybe she only felt strange because Magnus was the only man who had ever really touched her and having someone else’s hands on her skin just didn’t feel right. She probably would have felt the same if it had been Reggie.

Despite her own assurances, she was no more at ease when she started after her brother.

They slipped back into the castle and its echoing rooms and endless corridors. The awe she’d originally felt passing through the place felt less grand. If anything, she had no desire to see any of it, let alone remain there.

“You have as much freedom as you like here,” he said. “No one gets in without the guards knowing. You’re completely safe so long as you stay in the village. I’ll have guards assigned to you by morning.”

“Why do I need guards if I’m safe?”

He didn’t look at her, but she caught the shrug. “I want to be careful with you. You’re the only female royal blood. The princess,” he added when she frowned. “There are no others left. Just us.”

She tried to understand his logic and did to a point, but there was something nagging at the back of her mind, an unease she couldn’t shake.

But she never got the chance to press for answers when a guard came sprinting towards them.

“Your Highness.” He bowed quickly to Kyros. “There’s been an intruder.”

“Who?”

The guard raised his head. “It’s someone from the north, Your Highness.”