Page 37 of Merciless Is My Crown

“Why did you choose today to shift, Tristan?” I asked softly, squatting down. “Of all times, this is the absolute worst.”

He dropped his head, those glittering eyes pinned on me, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so prey-like before. But he wasn’t ramming the barrier, or flinging those deadly spikes against it, trying to impale me.

“Here is what we are going to do. We are going to take a chance on each other. We don’t know each other well. At all, really, but we are going to take a chance. I won’t hurt you, so please don’t eat me.”

I wrapped a layer of magic around myself, my skin prickling from nerves. Barrier enough, maybe, to protect me from the venom in those sharp teeth and wicked spikes.

I sucked in a breath, opened up a small section of shield, and slashed the knife across my arm, the vicious flare of pain turning my vision white. Blood ran down my arm in a red river, tracing my fingers with warmth and dripping into the dirt below.

Plop, plop, plop.

The wyvern’s nostrils flared, claws scrambling across dusty stone as he tried to reach me, something like desperation pooling in his eyes. He hit the barrier and the thing heaved beneath the force before he went back to pacing, tail thrashing.

“You have to shift back, Tristan. I don’t know how that works, exactly, but find the part of yourself, the Fae part, and focus on that.” The beast shook his mighty head, fire pulsing over him in waves, gold and orange and red, like a living flame.

“You are beautiful,” I told him, crouching down so we were almost nose to nose. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful.” Indeed, his scales shimmered with color, the pulsing fire enhancing the effect, and he backed away, shaking his head back and forth like Tristan was trying to wrest back control.

Like he was trying to remember how to shift.

I drew in a breath and dragged the knife over my skin again, blood blooming. The wyvern released a high, keening cry, rattling the crypt, dust and debris raining down over us, the portal glowing brighter. I licked my lips, cursed myself for a fool, and dropped the barrier between us completely.

I expected him to lunge for me.

Expected a faceful of teeth and a blast of fiery breath to be the last thing I ever saw.

But Tristan—the wyvern—prowled closer, every step careful and slow, as if he didn’t want to spook me.

Or to keep me in place before he pounced.

“Give me back Tristan.” I met those golden eyes steadily. “I know what you saw in the vision scared you. I was scared, too. All of this”—I waved my hand at the crypt, the portal—“all of this scares me. I don’t know what to do next, don’t know if we’re making the right choices or the wrong ones.”

Again, he made that keening, desolate sound, and I stretched out my hand, cautiously, so very slowly, until my fingers brushed his nose. Cool. For a beast crafted from flame and fire…he was cool to the touch, and I sucked in a surprised breath.

“I don’t want any of this,” I said softly, voicing the fears I was too afraid to tell anyone else.

“I don’t want to be who I am.” I ran my fingers over his nose, the scales the size of a fingernail, glimmering in molten shades of fire.

“There are times I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to be a slave again. To go through my mindless tasks and drop into bed at the end of each day without worrying about the fate of the world, or if I’m going to turn us all into monsters.”

He huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh.

“Okay, into big, black monsters.”

Light flashed, bright enough to blind, and I reeled backward, expecting the pain of fiery flames, but Tristan lay before me, curled up, heaving his guts all over the dirty floor. I crawled to him, pulling his sweat-slicked body into my lap. His arms circled my middle, fingers digging into my sides as he hung on for dear life, wracked with shudders.

His usually clear eyes were glazed over, hair matted down with sweat, and I curled myself around him, making my body his shield, his protection against whatever was happening inside his head. “You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay, Tristan. I’m not leaving you. Just hang onto me and don’t let go.” I smoothed his hair back, wet enough it was dripping.

I wished I had something, anything to throw over him, but Tavion had taken my horse, and there was nothing left of his beautiful clothing but trampled shreds of fabric. “You touched the skull and were pulled into a vision. I went in to find you, but when you came out…you turned into a wyvern.”

“I haven’t…” His beautiful eyes were wild, unfocused, terrified. “I haven’t shifted in years, not since…not since…” Tristan’s mouth worked but nothing came out, as if whatever memory he was reliving was too terrible for him to put into words.

“It’s okay, Tristan. I’m right here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

I pulled him closer, folding myself around him tighter. He was so frightened. Spooked, like an animal that had experienced too much cruelty and couldn’t think around their terror.

I was still holding him when Tavion thundered back into the room, weapons in both hands, looking like he meant to carve Tristan’s head from his body. I curled tighter around the archer in case Tavion decided he didn’t like what he saw.

Tavion took one look at me, cradling a naked, shivering Tristan in my arms, and snarled, teeth flashing in territorial rage. Yes, he didn’t like this one bit. “Give him a minute to get his bearings, Tavion. It’s not like you haven’t been in this exact same position before.”

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