Page 75 of Heart of Shadows

What was she wanting to return to? She stared at the stars until they blurred before her. She had no family, no prospects. Just a tiny hut, a worn book, and a forever depleting pile of coin that would be long gone when she returned. It was too much to contemplate. Her drive since arriving in Pelenor had been to return to Caledan, but what was that worth if there was nothing to truly return to? Where did she belong if not there?

“Don’t look so wan. That’s not such a bad thing. Family is overrated,” Dimitrius said darkly.

“I wouldn’t know.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know your family?”

“No. I’m an orphan. Do you have family?” It was impossible to imagine him with a wife and children—to imagine him capable of kindness and love.

“Unfortunately.”

Harper waited expectantly.

“I prefer not to associate with them whenever possible.” He shrugged, but she could tell it was a casual movement meant to hide an old pain, because he had a small crinkle in the centre of his brow that seemed out of place with his usually smooth expression. “So, what do you know of the Heart of Dragons, Harper of Caledan?”

She allowed herself to follow the change of topic. “Hardly anything. It’s a powerful thing, said to be the actual heart of a real dragon, but dragons haven’t been seen in Caledan for centuries, so it’s a myth, right?”

Dimitrius tipped his head to one side. “Not exactly. It is true. The Heart of Dragons is literally that. I daresay they are rarer in Caledan than they are here, where the king hoards dragons—both dead and alive.”

His disdain was clear, oozing from his tongue. Harper filed that away. She needed to know whatever little tidbits she could of him, if it would make a difference for her own survival. He hated the king, yet he served him. Interesting.

“Their magic is legendary. Not that anyone would know, given the king’s penchant for collecting them.”

“And what about you?” Harper asked. She felt cold to the core now. They were here to talk business, but she still did not have a way out of any of this mess.

“What about me?” His brow lifted, and the corner of his mouth tugged into a smile at the change of tack.

“What do you want with me?” Harper straightened, but she was no match for his height. He towered above her as he took a slow, deliberate step forward.

“You are in a great deal of danger—and it is best for both of us if that disappears. If you disappear, perhaps.”

The threat lingering in his voice had her moving. If she was lucky, she could leap the balustrade and climb down on the ivy that curled around the building. Harper slipped the knife from her sleeve and swept her arm up to his throat.

56

HARPER

Dimitrius moved faster than Harper could perceive in a blur of shadow and grabbed her wrist, the knife suspended between them at his throat. “My goodness. You are a murderous little thing, aren’t you? First you try to shoot me, now you try to cut my throat with my own silverware? That’s poor thanks for saving, bathing, and feeding you, little huntress. Or perhaps I should call you a wolf? Your bite is sharp and wicked, and it seems I shall not tame you today.”

“Let go!” She wrenched away, but his grip was iron as he drew her closer until they were almost chest to chest, so close that she could see the curl of those shadowy tattoos creeping up his collarbone. His smile was deadly as he looked down upon her with revenge promised in his heavy gaze. Lightning sang through every nerve and muscle in her, and she had never felt so alive as in the danger of that moment.

“To do what, precisely, hmm? Shall I help you?” He drew her arm closer and cocked his head. Then bared his neck to her and to that blade, drawing it closer until it nicked his skin. “Is this what you want? Please, be my guest. Put me out of my misery in this foul place—but be prepared to deal with the consequences.”

Harper stopped breathing. Her wrist throbbed in his grasp. He grazed his throat across the very edge of the blade—to no effect—and laughed as he twisted her arm. She dropped the knife with a cry of pain, and a moment later, the blade was in his grasp between long, elegant fingers. It clinked as he set it down next to his wine glass on the stone.

“What were you hoping to achieve?” he scoffed. “Oh, don’t bother answering. I suppose I cannot blame you for trying to escape—but do not mistake my courtesy for kindness, or my generosity for weakness, Harper. You are here because it serves my purpose. For now.”

Dimitri took her chin between his forefinger and thumb and tipped it up, forcing her to meet his eyes. This close, his stare paralysed her, the threat of the power brimming within enough to make her heart stutter. “Do not try that again,” he warned. “You will do as I say, or we will both die. Know that I am as invested in keeping you alive as I am myself, for at this moment, they are one and the same.”

At last, he let her go and Harper staggered back into the stone railing, crashing into it with a painful impact. She breathed heavily, unable to shake the dread that curled through her, nor the exhilaration of the moment. Her eyes darted over the railing. If she jumped now, would she make it?

“The answer is no, Harper,” Dimitrius said softly, watching her. He tipped his glass and drained the last mouthful. “If you try, you will fail, and we will both die. I cannot allow that to happen.”

She swallowed, and his attention flicked to the bob of her throat.

“I mean you no harm. Truly,” he offered. “I commend your pluck, that you would choose to take me on, despite the vast impossibility of your success. Turn that foolish bravery to your real chance of survival.” He watched her—but she could not respond, frozen against the stone, her chest heaving. “If you do as I say, I will ensure you leave here alive. I promise once. I promise twice. I promise thrice. Do we have an agreement, Harper?”

His magic caressed her, charging the feelings raging within her. Her legs shook, and she was glad for the stone to hold her up. Before her, he simply stood. The pure, raw power of him balanced in that moment, waiting for her choice. Those dark eyes were impassive once more, no feeling betrayed in his masked expression. She could glean no emotion from the preternatural stillness of that predatory body of his that oozed the promise of darkness.

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