Page 45 of Duskbound

“The Queen’s condition,” Aether said, his voice low enough that I almost missed it. “It’s... complicated. And if Valkan knew the full extent of it...” He trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

“What is her condition?”

Aether’s eyes raked over me with irritation.

“I said I want to know everything,” I reminded him with an arched brow.

“Her mind fragments more each day,” he said, voice tight with something like grief. “She can’t bear to be near others anymore—their energy, it overwhelms her. She becomes... unstable. The Council knows she’s unwell, but they don’t understand how far gone she truly is. And they can’t. Not until?—”

“Until you have a new Duskbound?”

The look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

“Come on,” I said, shaking the thought from my mind. If I was going to be of any use to anyone—Duskbound or not—I had to get my performance back.

His lips quirked, not quite a smile, but close enough to make my blood boil. “Whenever you’re ready.”

My fists were up before Aether even finished his sentence, and I charged, determination burning through the exhaustion weighing down my limbs. I lunged for a left jab, then swung a right hook aimed squarely at his jaw.

He didn’t flinch.

Aether ducked effortlessly, stepping into my space like itbelonged to him. His hand shot out, gripping my shoulder like a steel vice, and before I could react, he twisted. My feet left the mat, and in an instant, I was on my back, the impact jolting through my spine.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I rolled to the side, scrambling to my knees.

“I thought you said you were good at sparring?” Aether said, his tone as unbothered as ever.

I glared up at him, brushing hair from my sweat-soaked face. “I just need more time.”

“You don’t have time,” he said, motioning for me to get back on my feet. The words hit differently now. Time. It’s what Valkan had weaponized at the conference, using the realm’s suffering to push his agenda. How long before desperation tipped the scales? How many more would choose his hospitality over starvation? Rage burned through me. Time. And we had wasted so much of it.

“You want to talk about time? If you hadn’t kept me locked away for six weeks trying to break me maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation,” I huffed, forcing myself upright. My arms felt like lead, and every muscle in my body screamed in protest.

“Well it worked didn’t it?” Aether replied bluntly, crossing his arms. His golden eyes locked on mine, calm but unyielding. “You didn’t have to let your body become so weak.”

Something snapped inside me.

Fuck this.

I launched myself at him, throwing my entire body weight into his chest, my arms curling around his neck like a vice. The impact knocked him backwards, surprise flashing across his face as we crashed to the floor. The wooden boards creaked beneath us as we rolled, my elbow catching his ribs as he tried to gain control. A chair toppled over as we tumbled off the mat, my knee nearly connecting with his jaw before he managed to grab my leg.

In a single move, he flipped us over, using his full weight toslam me onto my back. His thighs straddled my hips as he caught both my wrists in one hand, pinning them above my head. His other hand gripped my waist, fingers digging into my flesh as he held me down. Every inch of him pressed against me, hard muscle and slick leather.

“Now that’s more like it,” he said, a dangerous smile playing at his lips.

“Get. Off. Me.” I snarled, trying to buck my hips against his, but the movement only made him press down harder.

“Not until you stop acting like a child.” His face was inches from mine, jaw tight with irritation. I could feel every breath he took, mocking how helpless I was beneath him.

“I’d rather act like a child than an arrogant, piece of shi?—”

“Careful, princess.” His grip tightened on my wrists. “You’re in no position to be throwing insults around.”

Heat flooded my face—from rage, I told myself, absolute fucking rage. But my skin blazed everywhere he touched me. The proximity was infuriating. I wanted to scream, to keep fighting, but my body had turned traitor, limp and breathless and entirely too warm.

A beat passed between the two of us, locked in this maddening position.

“Are you quite finished?” I lifted an eyebrow, refusing to show how affected I was.

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