Page 112 of Vicious Is My Throne

“The smell doesn’t bother me. I lived my entire life in Tempeste, remember?” He lit the candles on the candelabra. “If I’m not back by dawn, come find me. I don’t want to miss you dropping the wall.”

We discussed creepy Harehollow while I cleaned Raz’s wound, and I skirted his sneakily phrased questions about my past. I didn’t want to talk about any of that. Somehow, I felt like all that ugliness would taint today’s success.

I finally brushed his hair back from his face. “Someday, when all of this is over and we’re sitting on that beach, I’ll tell you everything. Until then…I’d rather let those memories lie.”

He hadn’t argued, just curled up around me and rubbed my back, both of us watching the fire burn lower until, finally, Tavion and Tristan returned just before midnight.

Tristan was grinning and covered in blood. Tavion loped into the room as his wolf, tongue lolling from his mouth. He transformed as Tristan dropped a heavy bag onto the bed then removed two engraved boxes, lining them up beside Raz and Tristan’s before he dropped a loose stone beside them.

“Here is Tavion’s, and this one’s marked with Zor’s symbol, plus that loose stone from Whitehall, but today was productive to say the least.”

That meant we each had a keystone.

Well, they had theirs and I had…someone’s.

The boxes—in various states of wear—were identical. Made by the same person, the artistry was exact, right down to the carved details on the sides. Tavion’s was already open, lined with pale-blue velvet, and I used my magic to unlock Zor’s box, his stone pulsing gently against a faded red velvet.

I blew out a long breath.

Five keystones plus the one in my pocket.

One for each of us plus a spare.

Who said we couldn’t get lucky?

But what did they do? Better yet, what could we do with them?

The stone in my pocket hummed, and when I touched it, I yelped. “Gods, that’s really hot.”

Tristan reached into his pocket. His keystone glowed in his hand like a golden fire burned at its core before he cleared off a spot on the desk and set it down.

“Isn’t that hot?” I tried touching mine again and yes, it practically burned my fingers.

“I have a high tolerance to heat.” He grinned, hooking a thumb at his chest. “Wyvern, remember?” He dug into my pocket and removed mine, then set all the stones in a row. Together, they glowed like miniature stars, though mine seemed to have a whiter color and Zor’s was more red. Raziel’s gave off a dark, shadowy aura, and Tavion’s…his glowed blue.

All well and good until smoke curled up around them from the coverlet.

“Am I the only one thinking we should split them up?” My husband hopped up and down, pulling on a pair of trousers, eyes bouncing between the stones. “Before we burn this place down?”

Maybe there was a reason these stones were kept in safes and magically warded rooms and boot closets.

Well-hidden and…miles apart.

In the end, we put them back in their metal boxes and stowed them in the furthest corners of the palace, then piled into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rose.

47

ZORANDER

It was still dark when we made our way along a road that had seen better days.

The hedges bordering the rocky dirt track were overgrown, every house we passed no more than a sagging hovel.

I’d forgotten how diminished this realm was. Solarys, at least, had possessed military might, a brutal, bloody alternative to raw magic. This place had no redeeming qualities. Only sad little huts bordered by tumbled stone fences filled with limp, pitiful gardens, scrawny goats and sheep, and a bony black cat that skittered across the path like the animal was fleeing for its life.

My belly rumbled, a hollow knot of hunger.

I’d been sucking on grass stems, but the sweet juices only reminded me I was starving. I counted my steps, then the sheep in the next field, then the stones in the wall running alongside the dirt cart path.

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