Page 66 of Given

He hovered. From under my lashes, I saw his hands twitch at his sides. Then his boots scuffed against the floor as he returned to his chair.

Eventually, my blood cooled. When I lifted my head, he was watching me. The fire popped and hissed, warding off the creeping chill. But it couldn’t do much about the coolness between us.

My fault. I’d put it there. But, gods, he didn’t help.

“Would you have done it?” I asked.

“I didn’t.”

I swore viciously under my breath. “If you were trying to scare her off, it won’t work. I can’t send her back to Sithistra.”

“I know.”

“Then why do it? You sliced your arm open and threatened to kill yourself because you don’t want me to marry? I’m thirty-four years old, Varick. Marriage was always going to be a necessity, and it was always going to be political. I need an heir.”

“Yes, but not from her. Thanks for telling me you were going to propose, by the way.”

“Oh, because you would have supported it?”

A muscle leapt in his jaw. He glanced at the door, then stared at me intently. I knew what was coming but I still winced as his voice flowed into my head. “You can’t wed an elven-born. If you cross your bloodline with hers, you could unleash a monster on all of Ter Isir.”

We couldn’t have this conversation out loud. I stood and went to him. Climbed into his lap and straddled his thighs. I put my lips next to his ear and spoke several degrees below a whisper. “You are not your father. Neither is Given. You have these suspicions, and they’re wrong.”

His heart thumped against my chest. One big hand settled on my thigh, the other on my back. He didn’t need to pull me into him to answer, but he did it anyway. “Everyone with roots in Eldenvalla is dangerous. Nothing good came out of the Thicket. Nothing.”

I shook my head, my lips scraping his stubble. “Valen hurt you because he was a murderous tyrant. Because you didn’t fit his vision of what a perfect son should be.”

Varick gripped my neck. He turned my head and spoke aloud in my ear, his raspy voice tinged with impatience. “He hurt me long before he knew I liked to fuck men. He hurt everyone, all the time. Because he could. Because it was in his blood. You saw it yourself.” He squeezed my nape, and his growl rumbled in my ear and right down to my chest. “Gods, Laurent, open your eyes. If I hadn’t stopped him that night by the Bitter Sea, he would have killed you. You are more powerful than any priest in the Sanctum and even your blood rites failed to contain him. Because he could not be bound.”

I pulled back, a realization stealing over me. “You wanted to know if I can bind her. You set tonight in motion the moment I asked you to come to dinner. You tried to make her angry, to make her snap and break the blood binding.” Anger twisted through me. I climbed off him, and for one tense, terrifying second, I wanted to hurt him.

He saw it. Something that might have been regret flashed in his eyes. “Laurent—”

“Be silent,” I hissed. I glared down at him with my heart pounding and my memory supplying me with images of his blood mixing with the ocean tide. His pale body lying broken on a beach. “You put on that whole farce. You let me think you were going to kill yourself after you fucking swore on an elven blade that you would never try that shit again. Do I have that right?”

His gaze was steady.

My anger burned hotter—searing claws that sank into my flesh. “Stand the fuck up and answer me.”

Slowly, he got to his feet. His big chest expanded as he drew a breath and let it out. He loomed over me, but his posture was deferent. In this moment, there was no confusion about which one of us was in charge. Even so, I took no pleasure in his submission. I didn’t want it to be necessary. And the fact that he’d made it necessary with his actions stoked my anger that much higher.

“Answer your king!” I growled.

“It’s right enough, Your Grace,” he said quietly.

“And?” I snapped. “She did everything you said. You must be satisfied.”

Silence. He was a whole wall of it, and I wanted to scream.

But we weren’t in the Rose Room. The walls in the palace had eyes…and ears. So I stepped into him and dropped my voice to a furious snarl. “You’re never going to be satisfied, are you? You made up your mind to fight this, and you’re so fucking stubborn you can’t let yourself budge even a little.”

“You can have any female in Nor Doru. Probably any woman in all of Ter Isir. And yet you insist on her.”

Suddenly, I had his shirt in both fists and my face in his. “Because I don’t have a fucking choice,” I said in a furious whisper. “The Deepnight isn’t just moving south. It’s disappearing.”

His pupils blew wide. He pushed me away but kept a grip on my shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Spots of it are burning away, shriveling up, whatever you want to call it.”

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