Page 34 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“Amazing.”

He grinned. “Helpful stuff, though costly. Leave it on overnight if you can. It will reduce the swelling and help you heal. By morning, the pain should be gone.”

His fingers lingered long after the pain receded. My mouth dried as I stared him down, a thick bubble of silence constricting the air between us. When I could bear it no longer, I spoke again. “Did you learn how to use your magic at a citadel?”

Those blessed with magic were invited to train and hone their skills at one of the citadels consecrated to the God or Goddess whom their magic represented. In the exceptionally rare case that a person was doubly blessed, they chose where to train. Surely, we would have heard if the emperor had plucked his captains from such respected sources, but I couldn’t help but ask.

“No.” He wiped the excess ointment from his hand using the damp towel and replaced the lid upon the jar. “I learned mostly from trial and error with some instruction from Emperor Ryszard, our master-at-arms, and the other captains. We help each other as much as we are able, though our skills vary greatly.”

“Do you ever wish that you would have?” It would have meant a different life. Perhaps one far from war and conquest. Independent of any city or country, the citadels were a people unto themselves.

A hint of sadness touched his eyes, so fleeting I almost missed it. “It’s not wise to consider what might have been, only what is and what can be.”

“And your master-at-arms?” I didn’t know who that could be. One of Ryszard’s advisors?

“He died several cycles ago.” The sorrow that colored his wounds was unmistakable.

I expected him to leave. He’d tended my wound. The job was done. Instead, he turned back to me, assessing. Those grey eyes dug into my soul, reaching for something. “Do you wish you’d chosen a different path? Not been the heir to your mother’s city?”

My brows scrunched. Not have been the heir? But I was. “I was born into it,” I mumbled. There was no choice, no other option.

“Then you know how I feel.”

Emptiness bloomed within me. I wanted to be the heir…didn’t I? My whole life advanced toward that end. Even now, I struggled to regain the title I’d lost despite the odds stacked against me. A touch of sorrow chilled me too. But not for myself. For him. What could he have been if he’d had the chance to study under masters of magic? Now that he’d taken up arms in service of his emperor, he could never go to the citadels to train. They wouldn’t take someone who’d pledged themselves to a side in war—it was how they maintained their neutrality. Already Lucien had many skills I could admire: intelligence, strategic thinking, command, and a level of care for others I never expected. If only the emperor didn’t claim his service.

Dark terror gripped me as a different image snapped into place. “Are you…” Racing thoughts nearly strangled my words. “Are you related to Ryszard?”

Teeth flashed amid a quick grin. “Is that what had you turning ashen on me?”

I had? I didn’t know.

“No,” he said after a weighty pause. “But I remember very little before he took me in.”

“How did you come to him then?”

“He found me. All of us. Orphans of war, famine, unfortunate circumstance…” He shrugged.

Orphans, all gifted with strong magic. Something was missing, a piece I’d yet to uncover. I needed more, so much more.

“He only took in blessed children?” My back straightened as Lucien cupped my undamaged cheek in his hand. Lightning zipped between us, hot and fierce where his bare skin touched mine. Without the goop between us, his calloused skin rubbed against my delicate flesh, particularly where his thumb traced an almost infinitesimal line up and down.

“So many questions tonight.” His steady gaze tugged me toward him like a moth to flame. “What do you want, Ilya?”

To free Sorrena. To take down Ryszard. To learn your secrets. To kiss you.

The truth in my thoughts hit me like a vicious wave. Icouldn’twant that. Not with him. Seducing him was my plan—an easy one when I didn’t care, when it only advanced my agenda. Actually wanting him? It couldn’t happen. Emotions would ruin everything.

He inched closer, eyes boring into mine, stormier than the seas that crashed against our cliffs, ones I could easily drown in, carried under by a current I never saw coming.

One more tug of the tide, and I’d be a goner. Lost.

“I should get some rest,” I said.

The moment vanished faster than a retreating wave. His hand slipped from my face to fiddle with the discarded gauntlets at his side.

“I wouldn’t want your good work to go to waste,” I continued, pointing to the mark on my face. A poor excuse at best, but the only one my turbulent thoughts could come up with. He’d been kind to me, yes, but I couldn’t forget who he was, what he’d done.

“No. We wouldn’t.” He shoved to his feet, gathering up the jar but leaving the rest.

---