Page 66 of Burning Heir

He opened his palm, releasing one shard of pure starlight that hung to a lantern. “Is that better?”

“No. Tell me where you were.” If Klaus’s death wounded him, what would his loss do to me? I was weak, barely holding on most days.

He sighed, his voice heavy. “There were a few attacks in Verdonia. We lost nearly a hundred guards today. An Autumn realm has been destroyed.” His shoulders slumped forward, and for once, I believed the mask he wore had slipped.

“Is Charles…” I couldn’t bear to finish the question.

“Charles is fine. The wards at Malvoria should hold for a few months.”

The tap dripped behind us, the sound echoing through the starlit room. Darkness had never appeared so radiant, prisms of light scattering across the stone walls. He hadn’t turned around yet, but I saw it—the breaking—within the slight tremble of his spine.

When power slipped, it was loud—the shakes, the quivers. Archer couldn’t hide misery from me. I’d grown up around it.

I couldn’t stop the pull to lean closer to him.

“And what about you?” I stepped toward him, daring to reach for his shoulder where deep lacerations bled. “Are you okay?”

He raised a hand. “I am fine, Blanche.”

I gave him a flat stare.

“Let me see your cut.” My fingertips skimmed the slice on his neck, and his eyes, like chips of ice, met mine. He didn’t pull away.

“Your hands are warm,” he muttered. “I’m not… used to it. Warmth.”

Built like a fortress, I couldn’t help letting my gaze wander as I took him in. If he were a statue, it would’ve been made from the finest clay, every muscle and bone perfectly chiseled. “It’s the flame,” I said softly.

Lowering my hand, he caught my wrist between two fingers. A silent yelp escaped me as he twisted my torso and pinned me against the wall. His shadow relic, rimmed with ash, flared beside mine.

“I don’t want you to care about me. I don’t want you around me,” he growled.

I stared at his hands gripping my wrist, my heart pounding against its cage. “I didn’t steal Klaus’s power, if that’s why you hate me.”

“I could easily kill you,” he said, leaning so close I could taste shadows—a mixture of coal and mist. “I want to kill you, but I won’t. Naraic’s bond is weak. Your life is in my hands.”

A cry broke through my tightened throat, flakes of ash dancing in the slim space between us. What was happening? He saw it, his eyes tracing the darkened flecks on my skin—our skin. His eyes lit like a fiery storm.

“How am I supposed to treat you?” I asked, my voice cracking. “You disappear for days… I…”

His thumb skimmed my jaw, brushing away a single drop of water. “You knew I was safe. You can start by pretending all you know is my name.”

I swore he stole the breath from me. Maybe I had known he was safe. Darkness loomed in his irises, the same dusted shade of ash coating our bodies.

“Let me go,” I hissed.

“And then what? You run to my brother?” His gaze flicked to the pendant around my neck.

I raised a brow, refusing to rise to the bait. He locked his hip against my ribs. “No, I’m going to bed.”

He stepped away, his figure nearly swallowed by the shimmering starlight. “Don’t use this bath anymore. It’s not safe.”

I couldn’t force myself out of that room quickly enough. Clutching the towel to my chest, I darted to my dorm.

What was that?

Chapter Fifteen

Damien arrived at dawn every day for the next week. We’d spent most afternoons on the fields with Naraic and Emerich racing through obstacles for the Skyfall tournament. We never spoke about that kiss, and I feared Damien regretted it—and I tried my best to forget it.

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