Page 158 of Vicious Is My Throne

“I don’t know.”

My gaze strayed to the open door. I mulled over my next words then decided fuck it. “Do you trust Bexley? Because if he turns traitor, we’re screwed. I know you like him, Anaria, but after what we heard today, I’m not so sure.” My wyvern snapped beneath my skin, straining to get out, to reduce this perceived threat to dust.

But the second Anaria’s hand landed on my arm, he settled, purring as I fell into her beautiful green eyes.

“Leave Bexley to me. If I have a single doubt, we’ll leave him here, though I honestly don’t know how much more trouble he can cause given what we’re walking into.”

I positioned myself at the edge of the wild garden on a half-collapsed stone wall overgrown with ivy while Bexley gave Anaria her magic lesson, chuckling to myself when his carefully laid plans were immediately derailed.

“Seriously, Bexley?” She set her hands on her hips. “I think the list of things you’ve hidden from us is longer than the list of what you’ve shown us.”

“I wanted to tell you the truth,” the mage pleaded. “So many times, but Vesper was adamant. I was here for support only, not to interfere. She said you had to accomplish everything on your own.”

“The Vitreglobe would have come in handy, Bex.” Anaria shook her head. “Like, about a hundred different times, that device would have saved our arses.”

“And yet you saved them all by yourself. Isn’t that better?” he said brightly. “Now sit down and make a flame. Hold it steady for five minutes and we’ll move on to bigger and better things, since I know you have the patience of a squirrel.”

“For the record, I despise making flames.” But she plopped down and crossed her legs. A second later, a flame floated in midair in front of her.

I leaned forward. I was curious about how her magic worked. Sure, I’d seen her perform the big, showy spectacles like decimating an entire realm, but in truth, I was more fascinated by the small, quiet part of her magic.

Her flame burned white, and I’d bet my last gilder if I touched it, that fire would be cold, not hot, yet would sear through my skin with ease.

“Well, that’s different.” Bexley squinted at the flame with the same intensity as me. “Witch magic at its purest. They say Sylvaria’s power was pure light. The heart of a burning star was what her name meant.” The old man’s face softened, and while I searched his face for any sign of deception, I couldn’t find a single one.

“I never thought I’d see the like again.”

The words meant nothing to me, but Anaria’s flame flickered out, her face pale. “Say that again.”

Bexley grew flustered, feet shifting, eyes dancing all around the ruined garden, finally landing on me. “I…never thought the world would see another power like hers.”

Anaria’s smile grew colder, her eyes like ice. “No, that’s not what you said at all, Bexley. You knew Sylvaria, didn’t you? You weren’t some apprentice to an old master who was obsessed with the conclave and the weapon. You were actually there. Did you…” Her eyes flared. “Did you have something to do with making the weapon?”

I slid off the wall and prowled toward them, the mage’s eyes darting between the two of us as if deciding who presented the bigger threat. News flash, that was me.

“Anaria,” Bexley pleaded. “I am not allowed to say. I told you, my instructions were very strict.”

“Tell her everything, Bexley, or I will toss you over my back and dump you in the middle of the blighted forest as fodder for whatever monsters survive that darkness.”

“Please,” he begged, twisting the ring on his finger. “I can’t.”

Anaria’s gaze fell to the ring at the same time mine did, both of us frowning. “You always wear that ring, don’t you?” His face fell as if she’d outed his greatest secret. “Take it off.”

“I can’t.”

“Take the ring off, Bexley.” Power spilled out around her, chasing the shadows away. “Or I’ll have Tristan carry out his very specifically creative threat. Whoever the fuck you are, you’re as susceptible to the blight as the rest of us, and I highly doubt you’d survive the forest.”

Both Anaria and I knew she’d never carry through on her threat, but Bexley paused.

And that flash of doubt gave me an opening.

“I’d listen to her, old man. Or I’ll rip your entire finger off to see what you’ve been hiding this whole time.” I straightened to my full height. “Your choice, of course, but whenever Anaria’s welfare is at stake”—I let my fangs grow longer, sharper—“I will always choose violence.”

“I want you both to know…” Bexley lifted his head higher, his chin wobbling. “That I was only trying to help under the very limited parameters of the conclave. Advice and aid only, no direct involvement.”

“You’re pretty damn involved, Bexley,” Anaria pointed out wryly.

“You have no idea,” Bexley muttered. And I braced myself as Bexley twisted the ring off his finger then dropped it into my outstretched palm. The second the warm metal hit my skin, nulling magic wound around me like a vise, gripping my magic, locking it down. I panted, eyes locked with Anaria’s.

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