Page 126 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Coming closer and closer, as a single, unconscious thought ran through my mind.
Nowhere is safe.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
ZANDYR
One kiss could be written off as a mistake, brought on by the relief of surviving the blood rite ritual, reuniting with Evie, and the sacred beach’s magic.
Tonight, there had been none of that. Only deep, raw desire. It still burned through my veins, blazing through my already heated blood.
The ritual’s effects still kindled through me, but I couldn’t blame them. I’d heard of legends of blood singing and dismissed them as nothing but the kind of superstitions a Clan built on violence could have. My parents had never been forthcoming about their bond, guarding the feelings between them as if I would steal them, given the opportunity.
Yet there was no other way to describe how my veins simmered now while tangled in the sheets with Evie. An ancient hum burned through them, reveling in our proximity.
She’d fallen asleep in my arms, as serene as the sky after a storm. She slept with her lips slightly parted, as if another quipplayed on her tongue even in her dreams. Her soft breaths were lulling me into slumber with her.
I had to resist.
I slid my hand from underneath her head as gently as I could. Still asleep, she frowned and leaned toward me, making me feel more monstrous.
I tore my gaze away and my body off the bed, every fiber of my worn, wretched being protesting it. This was ridiculous, the way my very essence begged to be near Evie. Among the many enemies I would fight in this existence, I never imagined one of them would be me.
The bedroom door shut behind me with an ominous click.
The night was too silent. No chitters, no growls, and no croaks. Only my shadow kept me company as I walked soundlessly down the hallway.
I didn’t knock.
I slid my nails on the door in one quick patter. She’d taught me that trick back when we’d been stationed up in the freezing northern plains during my first military year. Those who didn’t know the signal could logic it away as a draft or a figment of their imagination. Those who understood it answered.
A light tapping echoed from inside.
I opened the door to find Adara seated in front of the smoking fireplace. The flames illuminated her frowning face as she sharpened her favorite dagger, her back as straight as the day I’d met her.
There she was. The Grand General of the Blood Brotherhood.
FormerGrand General. Officially disgraced, yet more feared than ever.
The one who’d taught me how to fight to survive and protect others at the same time.
“It took you longer to seek me out than I estimated.” She didn’t turn, but the swipes of her sharpening stone screeched louder.
I closed the door, leaning my back against it. “You know what I’m about to ask.”
Adara nodded.
The fire crackled, filling the heavy silence. I never quite understood why Adara always insisted on heating her body to the point of discomfort. Perhaps she wanted to burn away the memories of that hideous avalanche that had caught us unprepared up the Veilstorm mountain. We lost thirty good warriors that day.
“How did you do it?” I asked, half-hoping and half-dreading the answer. “How did you break the oath?”
It was a feat nobody had managed in all the history of Malhaven–except for Adara. She broke her oath of loyalty to the Clan and went away to find her purpose with the mercenaries and their swift ships.
Her hand stilled. “You can’t do it, Dragon.”
“Tell me.” I clenched my jaw. “Please.”
