Page 68 of Princess of Death

His eyes remained hard and still, but the energy around him changed, seeped out of his skin and infected me.

“Will you tell me?”

“It’s not my place to share.”

My heart stiffened in my chest. Whatever had transpired with my father was more than a simple feeling. It was something physical, something that Wrath could see. “I wish I could talk to him about it. Wish I could talk to him about this too.”

“This?” he whispered.

“Us.” Sleeping with Wrath one time was the extent of my obligation, but now I couldn’t imagine ever asking him to leave. Couldn’t imagine replacing him with another man…one who had a heartbeat.

His range of expressions was limited, but he displayed hints of thoughts in the subtle movements of his eyes. “And what would be the contents of this conversation?”

“Despite your title, I don’t believe you’re evil.” I’d seen no hint of malice since we’d met. All I’d seen was a man literally part the sea to keep me alive. A man make love to me like I was his wife rather than fuck me like I was his whore. “Before I left these shores on my journey, he made me promise not to travel to your island. Demanded my oath like it was life-and-death. Perhaps your predecessor was different?—”

“He was vile and full of malice and absolute evil. This is a job I’m condemned to have, but for him, it was a hobby.”

Pity rose in my heart because I could feel the sincerity in his words. I could feel his goodness every time I touched his chest. Could feel a heartbeat that didn’t exist.

“I can’t tell you how your father would react to that provocation. I can’t see the future. But I can relive the past—and I can show you his story. Or you can wait until he’s ready to share it on his terms.”

I knew the right thing to do was to be patient and wait for my father to share it with me willingly. But he’d told me he would tell me about the island when I returned, and he never did. Whenever I asked him for details, he gave none. I didn’t believe he hid the past from me maliciously. It was just too hard to talk about. Maybe experiencing the past was the only way I’d be able to get my answers. “Show me.”

We left the villa and stepped into the courtyard. It was vacant except for the lit braziers, the enormous fires continuing to crackle and burn as a gust of wind passed through. It was a clear night, the stars unusually bright without the cloud cover.

Wrath was in his uniform once again, the enormous blade across his back, looking like a king who was about to conquer foreign lands. His cape moved behind him as he walked, and he was so tall and enormous that he looked like every soldier’s worst nightmare.

He stopped and stared at one of the olive trees.

If anyone entered the courtyard, they would see me standing there alone, without any purpose for being there in the middleof the night. The castle stood tall in the background, most of the windows dark except one or two.

Wrath turned back to me and gave me a hard stare in silence.

I’d become accustomed to that stare, but its potency still left me weak.

“Shall I proceed?”

I nodded.

He faced forward once again, and for a heavy moment, nothing transpired. The nighttime air was still quiet, the braziers crackled as they burned. It was a peaceful night, reminding me of a warm summer evening…but without the summer or the warmth.

And then it suddenly changed.

Trees that had been there since I could remember were gone. The cloudless sky had suddenly become thick with smoke, so thick that the stars were hidden away behind the veil of destruction. Shouts and screams came from the distance, somewhere below the cliff toward the village. Luminous scales passed in the dark then disappeared.

I knew none of this was real, but I moved closer to Wrath anyway.

Then I heard a voice I’d recognize anywhere.

“Roooooooaaaaaaaarrrrrrr!”

I jolted as I looked up into the sky and pictured the black scales in my mind, the mighty dragon that loved me like his own hatchling. I didn’t see him until he landed on the stone courtyard—and upon his back was my father.

My father didn’t climb from the saddle. He jumped straight down and landed hard on the stone, but he was on his feet a second later, like the distance of the fall and the weight of his armor and sword were inconsequential.

He unsheathed his blade and walked forward.

I took another step back…because I’d never seen my father look that way. Since he didn’t age, his appearance was identical, but his spirit…was one I didn’t recognize. Angry tears glistened in his eyes and nearly broke past his bottom lids. His stare was an inferno that burned hotter than the fire in Khazmuda’s belly. Fully sheathed in the black armor with the dragon crest in the center and his cape behind him, he was the mighty king I’d heard of in tales.

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