Page 64 of Courting the Tiger King

Play dead,Neah begged mentally, hoping the other woman would somehow read the instruction on Neah’s face. Instead, her eyes widened as the guard flipped her onto her back and raised the knife.

Neah didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. If these were to be Romi’s last moments, she would be there for her and do her the courtesy of bearing witness.

Silver flashed and Neah yelled, the sound breathless and hoarse as the blade sank into Romi’s chest and thudded against the floor. Her cry of pain made the guard’s face tighten, as if he took no pleasure in the kill, but Neah promised herself that the guard’s death wouldn’t be so quick, nor merciful.

Something wet touched her pinky fingers and she flinched back, the warmth making her feel sick as she realised it was Romi’s blood. Her chest still rose and fell, but her eyes were shut—unconscious, Neah hoped.

“He’ll come for me,” she said, the words more slurred than she would have liked, and the other guard hit her again, the kick to the ribs swift and biting. Wren would tear apart the world to find her, just as she would do the same for him. “And when he does, you’ll already be dead.”

A final blow landed and her world was swallowed by darkness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

WREN

The pounding at the door mimicked the ache in Wren’s head and he groaned as he rolled out of bed and stepped into a pair of trousers, not bothering to lace them up before he strode to the door to his chambers.

“What?” he barked and then balked at the grey tinge to Skye’s normally warm, brown skin. By the Goddess. “Sonnet?” He swallowed, trying to mitigate the thickness in his throat. Skye had been assigned to watch over the witch for the night. Technically any human high priestess or witch could perform a binding ceremony, but this one, the one that would relieve his curse, was special. He needed Sonnet for it to work.

“I’m fine,” the smooth voice said and Wren peeked around the doorway to find the witch standing with her arms folded across her chest and in a similar bedraggled state to Wren. If she was okay, then why were they here?

“I had to bring her, it’s my watch,” Skye said, but his voice sounded hollow and Wren widened the door, ushering the pair of them inside. “Gabe is with Zennon.”

“What is it?”

Skye shook his head. “I don’t know. Goddess, I don’t know. But it’s bad. I can’tseeclearly. Not with her magic so wrappedaround everything.” The words were fact rather than accusatory but Sonnet frowned all the same. “I don’t know. There’s a pit in my stomach and a fire in my chest and my mouth tastes like blood.”

The silver gleam in the witch’s eyes looked like concern and Wren understood the feeling. He’d never seen Skye quite so undone.

“Where’s Neah?” Skye asked, whipping his head around to stare piercingly at Wren.

“Neah?” Wren’s heart thudded harder. “In her chambers. It’s tradition the night before the ceremony. You know that.”

Skye jolted, a wave of magic rolling off him and rippling through the air before his eyes turned white and his voice echoed faintly. “We need to go there. Now. Before it’s too late.”

Too late. “What do you mean, too late?” Wren swung open the door again, marching out and trying to slow the roll of his thoughts as they began the journey to Neah’s room. She could take care of herself and if something was wrong, he would know. Right?

Skye began to run and Wren’s eyes pricked, burning, as panic harshed his breaths and the pain in his head grew sharper. Sonnet struggled to keep up with their pace, her pants shallow, and eventually Skye scooped her up into his arms and continued on unheeded.

Wren had seen Skye in the depths of visions, or his feelings, before, but never like this. Even when Zennon had been attacked previously, it hadn’t been so eerie, like the Goddess herself moved within his body.

They rounded a corner and Wren growled, the scent of blood thick despite the ordinariness of the closed door. It burst open with a wave of Skye’s hand and Sonnet cried out as they spotted the crumpled form on the floor in a widening pool of blood.

The material of her dress was stiff, having absorbed most of it, and beneath her flaming hair the pallor of her face was extreme.

Romi, Wren realised.Not Neah.But his mate had been here, the scent of her rage and fear potent in the room, and Wren could smell two others, males. Human.

Skye held out a hand to Sonnet who suddenly seemed very small in the wake of the room’s horror. She clasped it even as her fingers shook and Skye inhaled deeply as the magic in the air amped up. The energy prickled his skin and ruffled his hair, a living breathingthingthat was as unnerving as it was impressive. A wave of blue light streaked with silver washed out of the two witches and fell over Romi’s form, the knife in her shoulder lifting out with an invisible hand and the skin knitting together.

The barely perceptible rise of Romi’s chest grew stronger and Wren allowed himself one moment of relief before his worry flooded him once more.

“She’s alive, but just. We’ve done what we can, but she needs a real healer.” Skye bent in half, as if the cost of all that magic had physically weighed on him. “Good job,” he murmured to Sonnet and she nodded as she reached for Romi’s hand. “One last spell?”

Sonnet squeezed Skye’s hand and any other time Wren would have been thrilled to see them getting along so well. “I have the energy. Use it.”

Skye obeyed, his magic arranging itself into a glowing net that encompassed Romi’s body, lifting her into the air and drifting ahead of them easily. The strain on Skye’s face suggested otherwise, though.

“I need to talk to her.” Wren scrubbed a hand over his face. “Neah was here. She wouldn’t have let this happen if she could avoid it. Something’s wrong.”

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