Page 124 of Merciless Is My Crown

Zephryn’s and Simon’s eyes gleamed, but neither of them moved, as if they were waiting for their next cue. Fuck, I supposed we all were.

“Thank you.” Torin wiped her nose and eased onto her feet, the dark-haired male on the table huddling tighter into himself as if the light hurt. As if the air was too cold, everything too, too loud after being locked in that shard of stone.

“There. Desperation makes people make mistakes, Torin, and you just made a grave one.” Trubahn jerked his head toward the door. “Simon, wait for me in the carriage. I shall join you shortly.”

“Yes, Trubahn,” Simon said in a broken whisper before he made for the door, head bowed.

“He is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to get him back. Simon breaks that bond, and he dies. I wonder what he’s feeling right now knowing you traded him away for…that.” Trubahn sneered at the sight of the dark-haired astrologer.

All I could picture was the tip of my sword pressed over the mage’s cold, dead heart and the satisfaction I’d feel at shoving that blade in deep.

Not often had I experienced this depth of rage, but if Torin hadn’t guaranteed this bastard’s survival, he’d already be bleeding out on the floor.

“Simon trusts me. And I trust him, something you wouldn’t understand,” Torin said evenly “Can you sit up?” She offered her hand to the male curled so tightly into a ball. “I know…I know it’s been a long time since you’ve been free. But you must try.” Her voice trembled, that part, at least, not an act, when he took her hand, his fingers curling around hers.

I frowned.

This male didn’t look like an astrologer.

This was a battle-hardened warrior, his powerful body layered with muscle, every brawny inch peppered with scars. The kind that came from brutal, hand-to-hand fighting.

Who the fuck was this?

Torin helped the astrologer slowly sit up, his tangled hair hiding his face, while Zephryn threw a moldy blanket over him, one he’d found upstairs, no doubt. Torin adjusted the fabric, whispering the entire time.

Trubahn snatched the pendant off the table, cradling the brightly colored stone in both hands, his face a mask of barely restrained greed. Which meant the mage’s back was to Cosimo when the astrologer raised his head enough for me to fully glimpse his face.

Pure, unadulterated savagery lurked there, his blue eyes glimmering with hate and a fair amount of madness when they met mine.

The madness, I understood from being locked away for so long, but I set my hand on my sword and shifted so I blocked his path to Anaria in case he decided to go rogue. Zephryn noticed and warned me off with a barely perceptible shake of his head.

“Hello, Trubahn,” Cosimo purred, turning that cruel smile toward the mage, who looked up from his prize then reeled back in shock when the astrologer leapt gracefully off the table.

“It’s been a long time.”

49

ANARIA

Tavion and Tristan followed a seething Simon back into the dining room where we all watched Trubahn cartwheel away from the astrologer with such shocked terror I almost laughed.

I would have, except for his attempt to force Simon back into servitude and his arrogant blackmail of Torin. She’d planned tonight down to the very last detail and now…I wouldn’t miss what came next for anything.

“I believe you remember Cosimo,” Torin said serenely as the male in question arranged the blanket over his broad shoulders. “Though it’s been a few centuries.”

Cosimo was no astrologer.

He was a beast of a male, like Raz and Zor, his handsome face set with grim determination, blue eyes flashing with barely restrained violence that was, thankfully, not directed my way.

The mage looked between Torin and Cosimo, his expression bleeding from confusion to fury.

“You tricked me.”

Torin’s mouth quirked. “I outplayed you, Trubahn. And as for your blood oath with Simon…” She glanced to Cosimo, who snapped his fingers. The air in the room tightened with otherworldly power, my ears hollowing out as magic swept through the room like ice-kissed thunder.

Fuck, he was powerful.

I flexed my now-numb fingers. His magic was touched with a dark, depthless cold that would suck you dry if he commanded it to.

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