Page 10 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Hang onto me, Anaria. Use me.” He wound my fingers around his wrist. “Use me to anchor yourself. I don’t care if you hurt me. I don’t care, just hang on. Hang on.”

You’re babbling and you’re going to hate yourself later, I wanted to say, but nothing came out except a long, pitiful hiss followed by more pathetic, breathless panting.

This was…oh fuck, this was horrendous.

Worse than Solok, worse than the Mistress, worse than any torture I’d ever endured. I was being flayed from the inside out, fire and lightning and knives carving me hollow, one piece at a time.

The air in my lungs grew sticky, like there was too much moisture. Something crawled across my skin in a golden haze of light, like the pointed claws of a million skittering insects. I writhed, trying to escape the onslaught, fingernails digging into Tavion’s skin so deep I had to be hurting him.

“That’s it, use me, Anaria. Hang on,” he coaxed. “Your legs are looking better; the magic is working.” He sucked in a breath. “Keep going, you fuck, or I’ll gut you.”

I wanted to tell him to stop threatening people, but I could barely stay conscious.

Then the fiery pain eased off, enough for me to take stock of my surroundings. The Wynter Palace, the room where we’d—they’d—gotten drunk. Inexplicably, Torin’s owl shifter was here, along with a very naked, light-haired stranger casting waves of burning gold, devouring fire magic over me.

Freezing air blasted through the room, extinguishing the candles and plunging the room into shadow. Boots stomped toward us, the sound of arguing growing closer. Tavion’s body stiffened as he curled closer around me, his head flying up, eyes narrowing at whatever came through the door.

“How are you?” Torin asked, white eyes catching the fading glow of the fire. Then Raziel took up all my vision as he smoothed the hair back from my face. Even Tristan leaned closer, his widening gaze fixed on my legs.

I tried to find the words, tried to answer…

“Better,” Tavion admitted, raw emotion thrumming in his voice. “Much better. There were some…” His gleaming eyes met mine. “Corvus’s magic was still inside her, but once that was gone, her wounds started healing.”

“You’ll end up with faint scars,” the healer apologized, glancing warily at Tavion. “But I’ll do the best I can to make them fade.”

“See that you do, Bexley,” Torin said coldly. “You wasted valuable time trying to evade Simon to save your worthless, miserable hide. Your delay could have cost Anaria her life.”

Torin sounded genuinely concerned, but then again, I was an integral part of her master plan to eliminate the two kings. Without me, everything fell apart.

“Zor?” I husked, my mouth like sandpaper. “Adele?”

“On their way. They hung back, should be here within the hour.” Raziel leaned close enough for me to see the tears lining his dark eyes, then laid his warm palm on my forehead. “Fuck. You’re burning up.”

“That’s good,” the healer asserted. “Means the magic’s working and her body is repairing itself. The healing will take all night if you ever expect her to walk again.”

“Careful how you speak to her, mage,” Raz warned, his tone dangerously calm. “She’s worth a hundred of you, and if she doesn’t walk again, I’ll make sure you don’t, either.” The mage wilted beneath Raz’s dark stare, and I sighed.

“Don’t be an arse, Raziel. Bexley’s been very kind.” I tried to push up on my elbows to get a better view of my legs, fear writhing in my gut at what I’d see. “Tavion? Is that true?”

“The wounds were bad, Anaria.” His face had that look. The one where he didn’t want to scare me. “Things have been touch and go since you collapsed.”

“Tell me what happened,” I demanded, though the order came out a breathless whine. “The last thing I remember was riding for Nightcairn Castle, then I fell off the horse. How long was I out?”

“You were only out for a few hours. We’re in the Wynter Palace; this was the safest place we could bring you. Torin knew a healer in the city.” From the way Tavion’s lip curled, I knew his opinion of this healer.

“Well, whatever he’s doing is working,” I declared in the poor healer’s defense as I wrapped both hands around Tavion’s. “You can ease off on the threats, Tavion. I’m alive, and if he says this will take all night, then let the poor male work.”

“Thank the gods. Finally, someone with common sense,” the male muttered.

“You’re welcome,” I said, then turned my head because when he stood up, he was still very, very naked.

“For fuck’s sake, Bex, cover yourself up.” Simon already had on a robe, a frilly purple silk one that dragged on the floor.

The owl shifter tossed an equally ridiculous pink and white robe at the mage, who rolled his eyes but hastily belted it around him. “Do you really think I want to be here, naked, with you lot? I was safe and happy in my own godsdamned house when Simon broke down my front door. Made enough ruckus we’re lucky those Reapers didn’t take us both over.”

I pressed my hand to my racing heart.

Tried to ignore the painful itching taking over my lower legs.

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