Page 96 of Song of the Heart Scale
When she left, I sat in silence for a long time. Downstairs, the music continued, the bard's voice echoing the words I hadn’t realized I needed to hear.
He took the heart not meant for his chest, With blood on his hands and gold on his breath. But storms are brewing where shadows fall, And the phoenix waits to burn it all.
I didn’t need the song to know the truth.
Thorne had taken everything from me.
But now, the world was starting to sing it back.
And that meant it was time to rise.
I had just arrivedat Uncle Bai's mansion, the air still heavy with the brothel’s perfume and spice, when I saw Cat, stepping out of the carriage like nothing was amiss, as if she hadn’t just shaken the entire foundation of Elaria with a single song.
I didn’t wait.
I crossed the stone path in long, furious strides, ignoring Maeve’s startled expression and the servant who tripped over hisown feet trying to bow and get out of my way at the same time. I grabbed Cat’s wrist and she barely had time to blink before I was hauling her through the front entrance, past the shocked faces of guards and attendants.
“What the hell, Damien?!” she shouted, trying to yank her arm back.
I didn’t stop.
We reached the corridor that led to our private rooms and I hurled the door open before shoving her inside. She stumbled back a step before spinning around with fire in her eyes.
“What the actualhellis your problem?!”
I shut the door behind us, the click of the lock echoing with finality. I paced the length of the room like a caged beast, fury burning through my veins hotter than dragon fire.
“Did you do it?” I demanded.
Her brow furrowed. “Did I do what?”
I stopped. Turned to face her. “The song,” I ground out. “Did you write it?”
A flicker of something dangerous danced in her gaze. Then came the smirk. The smug, wicked, beautiful smirk that told me everything before she even opened her mouth.
“Oh,” she drawled, sauntering closer, “you heard it?”
I growled.
In two quick strides, I closed the space between us. My hands found her waist and I lifted her onto the desk, pushing her skirts aside to step between her legs. She gasped, not from fear, but from the proximity.
“You’re playing with fire, Cat,” I said, my voice low and deadly. “If Thorne finds out it was you—”
She placed a single finger on my lips.
“Shh.”
I froze.
Her eyes held mine, fierce and unwavering. “I’m not afraid of him. And it won’t come back to me or anyone. Trust me.”
I stared at her, at the insane, infuriating woman who had no sense of self-preservation. But Immortals help me, I believed her.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Positive.”
I exhaled, dragging my hands up her thighs and resting them on her hips. My forehead dropped to hers as the tension seeped out of me. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I muttered.
