Page 60 of Claimed In Darkness

Yet my feet do not take me toward them.

Instead, I move through the halls like a specter, my fingers trailing against cold stone, my breath too quiet.

I hear him.

Not speaking. Not moving.

But breathing.

I don’t mean to step forward, don’t mean to let my own curiosity betray me, but I do.

I move toward the open doors of his private chambers, toward the glow of the fire flickering against the far wall.

Zephiran is sitting at the corner of the bed, elbows braced against his knees, his hands curled into fists. His tunic is loose, his hair disheveled, strands falling into his eyes as he stares at the floor as if it holds the answers to every fucking thing wrong with him.

He looks?—

Unmade.

Something twists inside my chest, but I ignore it.

I should leave.

I should turn back before he?—

His voice is quiet, too quiet.

"You’re awake."

I stiffen, my body caught in the threshold like a deer beneath a hunter’s bow.

He doesn’t look at me, but his voice is steady, deep, filled with something I can’t quite place.

"You didn’t run."

I hate that my throat tightens.

That my fingers twitch at my sides.

That he says it like he knew I wouldn’t.

Like he always knew.

"Why would I?" I say, forcing my tone into something sharp, something cutting. "We both know what happens if I do."

His shoulders tense, just slightly.

"Because of the poison?" he murmurs. "Or because of something else?"

I stay sient. What can I even say?

I cross my arms over my chest, shifting my weight to one foot. "What are they going to do with me?"

Zephiran leans back slightly, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes are shadowed, unreadable. Dark pools of something dangerous.

"What do you think?" he asks.

A bitter laugh scrapes its way up my throat.

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