Page 61 of In the Ravenous Dark
Embarrasshim, he means.
I smile winningly at him for appearances’ sake and murmur, “Take your hand off me before I burn it off.”
“Come now, we know your guardian would never allow that.” His voice remains low, almost sultry. For all anyone can tell, we might be flirting with each other.
My guardian might not allow me to use blood magic. But another path springs into my mind. I suddenly know how to use mybody.
With a twist of my wrist, I break Kineas’s grip. I have his own wrist pinched at a brutal angle before he can blink. He staggers to escape me, and then catches himself in an attempt to hide it, lurchingawkwardly and in a very unprincelike manner. He massages the joint before he thinks better of that, too. His hands drop, and he glares daggers at me. I’m surprised he doesn’t actually draw a blade on me.
But I know precisely how to dodge him. I’m already bouncing on my toes, anticipatory.
Where on earth has this knowledge come from?
I’m suddenly aware of Ivrilos standing at my side, a dark shadow framed in a profusion of blossoms. Normally I would appreciate the contrast—whydoes he always have to look so starkly beautiful?—but I spare him only a glance or two. He’s busy staring in amazement. He never expected me to be able to do what I did, either, and yet there’s a glint of recognition in his eyes. He’s so focused on me that the bee flies right through his forehead without him seeming to notice.
And then I realize: I learned it fromhim.Or rather, I drank down some of his martial knowledge with the shadowy power and memories he gave me in his forbidden kiss.
“Perfect.” Kineas masks his fury with a laugh that sounds razor sharp. “I was just headed to my sparring session. I wanted you to watch, but now perhaps I can practice on you. You seem to have some training yourself. Only blades allowed, of course. None of that blood magic of yours.”
Shit, I think, as his attendants titter—some of them nervously, some in approval. I don’t knowhowmuch knowledge I’ve absorbed from Ivrilos. I doubt it extends to full-bore dueling. But that won’t stop Kineas.
He wants to hurt me. I can see it in his eyes.Thisis the man who will be my husband, and there’s no one here to gainsay him.
Ivrilos finally blinks as if coming back to himself. “Convince him this is a bad idea.”
“Be my guest,” I mutter.
“You know he can’t hear me,” my guardian bites out.
“After you,” Kineas says with a murderous smile, once again assuming my words are for him.
He assumes everything is for him.
He gestures the way forward, down the hall. I have no choice but to accompany him.
“Shit,” my guardian breathes.
“And I thought you were supposed to be my protector,” I say, picking my words carefully so Kineas won’t know they’re not for him.
“Rovan—” Ivrilos begins, almost desperately.
“We’re not married yet,” the crown prince interrupts without realizing. “What’s a little blood between friends? Although”—he leans for my ear again as we walk—“I hear there’s supposed to be blood on the wedding night, too.”
I laugh, but I still keep my voice down. “You think you’ll be my first? Besides, you must not have much experience yourself if you think all women bleed the first time.”
I hope that will fluster him, but he only smiles unsettlingly. “In my experience, it’s not difficult to make them bleed. Granted, with you, I might have to get creative.” His voice drops. “You wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve cut.”
I remember Japha telling me about the accusations of abuse from some of his lovers, and worse, the rumors of missing lowborn girls… all swiftly silenced.
“For the love of the goddess,” Ivrilos practically hisses in my other ear, “would youstopprovoking him?”
I could, but then I might lose whatever pride I have left. I wish I could extend my arms, or even just a sigil-weighted thought, and pitch both men into the walls on opposites sides of me. And then maybe strangle them with flowers. But I can’t hurt Ivrilos, and he would never let me hurt the crown prince.
“Rovan, you can pretend you don’t feel well,” Ivrilos says. “I canmakeyou feel unwell…”
“Don’t even try it,” I growl through gritted teeth. “Or else I’ll tell the truth about you.”
“And why would anyone care to listen?” Kineas asks lightly, carrying onourconversation. He adds, just as light, “I can’t wait to hear you change your tune. Someday, I’ll even make you beg for it. It will be music to my ears. Not this insufferable squawking.”
