Page 61 of Dark Fire Kiss

I drew a sharp breath.

She flinched as if he’d struck her. Which, in a way, he had.

And he knew it. Immediately, his eyes filled with regret. He stepped toward her—

“I need to be alone,” she said. The knuckles on her hand holding the bath sheet turned white. “Am I permitted to take a walk? I need some fresh air.”

He wanted to say no. It was there in the way his shoulders tightened and his brows pulled down. But how could he restrict her freedom after the insult he’d just thrown at her? It would simply add insult to injury.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should intervene. What was the etiquette here? My mates were arguing, and now one was ready to gut the other. Maybe I should keep my arse out of it. I made a mental note to ask my fathers how they handled these situations. If memory served, my mother had won every disagreement I’d overheard as a lad. I’d always suspected my fathers, who did not enjoy being locked out of their own castle, had engineered that outcome.

If there was ever a time to test that theory…

“Of course, lass,” I said. “Everything is open to you. This is your home.”

She looked at me, her eyes so stark a fist squeezed my heart. And as she turned and walked away, I wasn’t at all certain she believed me.

Chapter Nineteen

HALINA

“You’re so weak.”

Bram’s words tumbled around my head as I strode away from the castle, moving quickly through grass bathed in moonlight. I wasn’t sure where I was going, only that I needed to get away. To be alone so I could think about what had just happened.

The grass was wet, and dew quickly soaked my jeans up to my calves. Should have worn boots. Then again, I hadn’t been worried about my outfit when I fled Bram’s suite in nothing but a towel. I’d gone straight to my closet and pulled out the first clothes I touched. Besides the jeans, I wore a thin, long-sleeved shirt and a knit cardigan that fell to my knees. No jacket, though, which I regretted as the breeze picked up.

I stopped and looked back at the castle. Lights blazed from Bram’s window, and I knew he and Fergus were watching even if I couldn’t see them. There was no way they were letting me out of their sight.

Not that they had to worry. I wouldn’t get far on foot. The sun was just as an effective prison as any tower Bram might lock me in.

And where the hell did he get off threatening that?

I fumed all over again, anger rising so fast I nearly choked on it. Last night, when I’d knelt before him and said I accepted our bond, he’d told me we were equals. Apparently, that sentiment only applied when I was doing exactly what he wanted. The moment I pushed back, equality went right out the castle window.

The thing was, I hadn’t even been dead set on going to Krovnosta. When I suggested it, I’d still been reeling from Fergus saying the messenger had gone missing—and that my father’s status was unknown. If I was honest without myself, I didn’t really want to go back.

Yes, there was a small part of me that worried about Aleksander. He’d saved my life, and he’d seemed to harbor at least a little affection for me. He had shown me the occasional kindness through the years. An outsider might have dismissed his random bursts of benevolence, but any crumb of compassion was precious when you were starving.

However, I had no illusions about his true nature. Like our father, he cared more about power than any family connection. He’d been angry when Grigory insisted on getting the dragon tears. He would have preferred to let our father die so he could become prince.

But as ruthless as Aleksander was, I wasn’t convinced he could take on Grigory if our uncle decided to make a play for the throne. I wasn’t sure Grigory could get around the Blood, but it seemed naive to think in absolutes. Anything was possible, right? Aleksander was hundreds of years old and he’d never heard of Black Settanis.

But Grigory had. Was it that much of a stretch to think he might also know how to circumvent the Blood’s prohibition on killing the rightful prince?

It was a question I couldn’t answer. The only thing I was truly certain of was that I couldn’t help my brother. Even if I had a way to get home, what help could I offer?

“You’re so weak.”

I turned my back on the castle and kept walking. Bram was right. I was no match for the “leeches” in Krovnosta. Training in the gym was one thing. Squaring off with my father’s battle-hardened warriors was another. And if Grigory was in charge now, the best I could hope for was spending my life as a concubine to some minor prince.

The worst? Torture, followed by a slow and agonizing death.

Ice slid down my spine. With a shiver, I pulled my sweater more tightly around me. The loch sparkled ahead, and I walked faster, my strides eating up the ground. I wasn’t as fast as Bram or Fergus when they displayed those dazzling bouts of speed, but I was much faster than I used to be.

Another side effect of dragon blood. Its power hummed under my skin. Fergus claimed it would fade—or that I’d get used to it and stop noticing—but part of me hoped that wouldn’t happen. I’d been powerless for so long, it was refreshing to feel strong for once.

And maybe that was why Bram’s words cut so deeply. He and Fergus were effortlessly powerful. Even with my newfound abilities, I could never measure up. It was Krovnosta all over again. There, my human heritage had put a target on my back. I’d been the product of an embarrassing indiscretion, allowed to live only because I might one day prove useful.

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