Page 245 of Primal Bonds

The king hissed in pain as the iron seared into his flesh.

Inside, the cougar snarled to be let out. Kill. Death. The man had attacked their mate, and it wanted blood.

She pushed the sharp point in a little deeper. “I mean it.”

“Fine.” Sindre flicked his fingers.

Fane’s breath sucked in and she felt his pain lessen. She eased off the pressure of the point against Sindre’s throat.

Roald made a move toward them, and she whipped her head around, teeth bared. “Come any closer and I’ll shove this blade into his fucking brain.”

Gripping her wrist, Sindre forced the switchblade a little away from his throat. At the same time, Fane staggered toward them.

Hell. He was going to just keep coming until he either died or got her away from Sindre. He was that determined to protect her.

She had to do something. Now.

“Change of terms,” she gritted, her voice barely human. “Fane Morningstar goes with me. If we escape, then you free us both.”

“And if you fail?”

“We’ll both stay here and serve you. That is, if Fane agrees.”

“I do,” he managed to gasp out.

Behind her, she heard the hum of powerful magic. She glanced over her shoulder. A light glowed in Roald’s palm as he conjured up a fae ball.

Arne stepped between her and his father. “Let them work this out.”

“Get out of my way,” the warrior ordered, “or I’ll blast you, too.”

“No,” Arne drawled. “I don’t think I will. She won’t hurt the king. If she meant to kill him, he’d already be dead. This is her way of bargaining with him.”

Sindre squeezed her wrist. Her fingers went numb and ice spread from her hand up her arm. Then as quickly as it had started, the ice melted, and she realized it had been a demonstration, a taste of what he could do if he really wanted.

She stared back, unblinking. She was fast, and almost as good with her left hand as her right. Maybe he’d win and maybe he wouldn’t.

“Let me go,” he said, “and we’ll talk.”

She jerked her head in assent and released him, switching her knife to her left hand. Her right hand prickled painfully as the feeling returned to it, but she ignored it, her gaze locked on the king.

“I accept your terms,” he said. “But you both must escape the castle by dawn. If even one of you fails, you’ll accept my geas for a fae year and a day, and Fane will serve out the rest of his term, plus an additional ninety-nine years.”

She and Fane exchanged glances. Then Fane gave a firm nod. “Done.”

“Done,” she echoed.

“But Fane Morningstar still loses everything.” The king turned an icy stare on his envoy. “His wealth—and his Gift.”

“His Gift?”

“He offered, and I accept. It makes the game more interesting.”

Her stomach sank to the soles of those stupid satin heels. “No! That’s not part of the bargain.”

“Then he stays with me.”

Fane’s body went stick straight. “Take it.”

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