Page 94 of Dirty Hit

They were pulled to a stop, and Faythe’s chest raced with anticipation. A presence crept closer to her. Unmistakable. Reylan reached to the back of her head, pulling the tie of her blindfold under her hood.

Her eyes immediately watered and slammed shut at the first attack of daylight. She bowed her head, blinking to adjust and subdue the dull ache it pulsed in her head. The crystal stone beneath her feet was mesmerizing. This path had been flattened of snow for people to walk safely.

Faythe was roughly pulled from her moment of admiration by a firm grip on her chin, yanking her head up. Reylan maintained his guise of brown hair and different angles to his face, but those irises were the same, and every time she was forced to meet the vacant loathing in them, a piece of her heart cracked deeper.

“We’ll stop here for the night. Getting to the castle by foot will take a day in itself, and it’s nearly nightfall.”

Faythe’s gaze tracked over his shoulder, and she was taken by the sculpture of the buildings she could only glimpse the peaks of. It was like she was standing in a city of glass and white stone. It reminded her of High Farrow—Caius City, specifically—in some ways, but far colder, and with more ice. The other detail that set apart this kingdom was the accents of gold—Lakelaria’ssigil color. It adorned parts of the stone in elegant filigree, or was stamped on shop signs, or on the white fur cloaks of the few fae she caught passing distantly.

“Go inside. Try anything, and I won’t hesitate to do this again,” he said, sweeping his fingers across the bruised bite wound on her neck.

Faythe shivered with a break of pleasure at the contact. Despite everything, he was still her mate, and her body gave away her yearning for him.

The bruising was almost gone, but thanks to her Magestone shackles, it took longer to heal. She wondered if the small puncture wounds would stay, however. Even though he’d bit her in malice, she didn’t want it gone.

“I doubt the Lakelarian citizens would run to my aid if I called,” she grumbled, heading inside the inn they’d stopped at.

“You’d be surprised how far word of you has spread,” he said low from behind her.

That was genuinely surprising, but whether they’d heard of her or not, she wouldn’t expect them to care about her captivity in their kingdom. A Phoenix Queen without wings or a crown—pitiful, really.

Faythe skulked down the narrow corridor, her nose stinging at the notes of alcohol and wafts of musk. Before she could veer into the main room, Reylan’s firm hand pushed her the opposite way. She muttered her curses, but they fell on uncaring ears.

“You watch over him,” Reylan instructed. She cast a wary look at Kyleer, whose face fell in discontent. “But don’t kill him.”

Zaiana smiled with pretend sweetness, opening the door in front of Kyleer before pushing him inside. “If he doesn’t give me cause to,” she sang, following him in.

Faythe genuinely feared for her friend, doubting he’d see the dawn without injury at least.

It was her turn to be roughly handled, thrust into a room with one bed occupying the center. There wasn’t much else. Her craving for heat had her staring into the dark fireplace, but her stubbornness didn’t want to ask him for anything.

“You should rest. I reckon it will be the best you’ll achieve for a while.”

Faythe found him by the corner of the room, leaning into the shadows like he didn’t plan to move from them anytime soon.

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

“I don’t. Stand there all night if you wish—I will not interfere.”

Faythe sighed dramatically. If he wasn’t going to light the fire, the blankets alone would have to do. She sat on the bed, too tired to even take off her boots. Grabbing the covers, she awkwardly slung them around her shoulders, gritting her teeth with the burning against her wrists, then she sat against the headboard.

“You’ll regret the stiff neck if you fall asleep in that position.”

She ignored him. “Why didn’t you change your eyes with the rest of you?”

“Shapeshifting always leaves a trace. Trying to imitate another fae or human has the most noticeable distinction like a scar or eye color.”

Faythe wanted to believe that even if she didn’t recognize his eyes, she would have still known it was him as soon as she was close enough.

“Why the guise at all if she wanted me to find you?”

“You’re not the only recognizable face. The Valgard armies wouldn’t have trusted Rhyenelle’s leading general even less than they did this newly appointed façade.”

“It’s just us now. You can let it go. It must be tiring you to hold the ability for so long.”

“Nothing tires me now. Not with this,” he said, tapping his chest.

Faythe swallowed hard. She was trying to push aside the whispers of darkness that came from it.

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