Page 151 of A Song of Air
The way Weylyn saw it, they both deserved to die.
“You’d still kill the king, even if you respect Prince Valerio?”
“Would you stop me?” This question seemed crucial. Like something that would determine how their future as mates would go. If she would try to temper the only thing that had brought him so much life. If she would try to stop him from fulfilling the one goal he’d strived for his entire life.
He held his breath as he waited for her answer.
Finally, she looked at him. “No,” she whispered. “I would not stop you.” Her hand reached for his shoulder, sliding over his skin. Her discolored eyes seemed to burn with conviction and rage. “I would help you push the knife into the king’s back. And I’d take joy in it.”
A smile pulled at Weylyn’s lips. Some would have called it cruel, but it was the most joyous thing Weylyn wore. He leaned down, unable to resist the pull of his mate’s bloodlust. He captured her mouth and her body curved against his almost immediately. His cock grew hard between them, weeping and eager for another taste of his beautiful mate.
His mate.
Mate. Mate. Mate.
He knew she would give in to him eventually. Not like this. Not in Unseelie. But it didn’t matter. She was his now. He had tethered them together. Forever.
Or for as long as they were alive, at least.
As soon as that thought took hold, he pulled away. Ideas had already begun taking motion in his mind, all of them wild and desperate. But he knew without a single bit of doubt that he would do all that was within his power and beyond to get them out of Unseelie.
He pulled away from his mate, and his magic reached out for her mind.
“I swear I will get us out of this court, little mate.”
“How?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
The immediate answer brought warmth to his chest.
“Then this is what I need you to do...”
It was with the taste of his mate on his mouth and his body that Weylyn slipped from their tent to go in search of the Unseelie Queen.
His mother was blessedly alone. She sat on her throne, chin resting against her hand, as she contemplated whatever evils lived within her dark, twisted mind.
When he approached, her eyes flicked with boredom.
“What is it?” she grumbled. “Have you come to beg for your mate’s freedom from Unseelie’s hold? Why waste my time with foolery that cannot be when we can spend it with far greater pleasures.”
“Like what?” He stopped shy of reaching her throne.
“A game of truth, perhaps.” She straightened to her regal posture. “You can tell me where Owyn has gone. I have not seen him since you took off for The Hunt.”
“I do not know.”
It wasn’t a lie. Though Owyn had died and Weylyn knew the exact spot, he did not know where the earth of Unseelie had sucked him to. He did not know what awaited his brother in the afterlife. He did not know where Mana had taken him. Perhaps his soul had been reaped by the Wild Hunt. Or perhaps he was in the human concept of hell.
He did not particularly care.
He could be food for the maggots.
His mother regarded him with suspicion, but he gave nothing away. It was not as if he’d killed the fool anyway. Though it didn’t matter if he told that truth. She would not believe him.
“Hmm,” she hummed. “What do you want?”
