Page 101 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Out of all the sprawling mansions Phoenix Peak had, Zandyr had picked the most remote place to lay his head down at night. Until now, I hadn’t exactly been curious where he actually lived.
I’d noticed the tower during one of my first walks in the Citadel, but back then I’d been more concerned with the vines crawling up its ancient stones.
Rising in the most remote corner of the palace, it stood higher than any other building, even the Grand Archives glistening in the distance. Still on royal ground, but separate, almost blended into the jungle reaching for it above the wall, vines thirsting to invade the eerie stillness of Phoenix Peak.
Adara said the only official entrance to the tower was through the palace, which I wanted to avoid at all costs, and only Zandyr knew the secret access points.
So I scaled the strong, stubborn vines wrapped around the tower, not daring to look down. Adara waited disapprovingly at the base, ready to distract any guard who might wander this way, though there were none officially stationed near the tower. Zandyr liked to guard himself.
My muscles cried from the strain, but I put one foot above the other, sweaty palms grasping at every safe surface. Finally, when the sweat on my brows threatened to drip into my eyes, I made it to his large oval window overlooking Phoenix Peak. Guarding it.
My eyes quickly scanned the frame. Plain, no sculptures, indentsora latch. The glass shimmered with black and purple hues. I barely glimpsed a shadow moving inside, nothing else.
I strained my arms to knock on the glass.
The shadow stilled, then approached the window. The blood in my armor vials swirled out of control and my heart beat faster–
Then dropped somewhere near my swinging ankles as Zandyr almost tore the window open toward the exterior.
The frame cut into the vine I’d been grasping.
A frantic cry barely tore at my throat as his arm shot out, catching my hand.
“What are you doing?” Zandyr grit out.
“Hanging on for dear life!” I yelled back, legs swaying frantically to find any surface to cling to.
He pulled me up to safety and his arms circled my waist as he lifted me into his room. My knees still shook when my feet sunk into the lush golden carpet, but his palms felt warm against my skin, even through the armor.
“If you wanted to creep up and murder me, menace, there are more efficient ways of doing that.” An open smile played on his face. His beautiful, beautiful face that only had a scratch onit, cutting through his left eyebrow. “But I am so very glad to see you, deadly intentions or not.”
He was here, he was breathing, he was joking. He was safe.
My traitorous heart fluttered. I was so very glad as well, but all those sweet words caught in my throat.
“I’d be a really bad assassin if Iknockedbefore attempting to kill you,” I said instead. “Why does your window open toward the exterior?”
“To fling off the assassins foolish enough to scale my tower. You could have come through the door.”
“I didn’t want the palace guards to see me.” Not now, not ever. And they definitely couldn’t watch me train anymore. “I heard you had a secret entrance, though.”
“I do, behind the phoenix statue at the base. Pull on its twenty-third feather and the wall will reveal the stairs,” he said without a hint of hesitation. His beauty grew in tune with his smile. “Missed me, did you?”
Yes, damn him, but that was beside the point. “I had to talk to you.”
“And you couldn’t wait half an hour until I washed the blood and horrors off me so that I could come to you in a more presentable state?”
I opened my mouth to argue–I didn’t know if hewouldhave come to see me today. Or tomorrow. Or this week. He’d vanished the last night we saw each other.
Just thinking about his lips on my forehead heated my cheeks. I reluctantly detached my gaze from his face and I scanned his body. My heart thundered with every inch of damp skin I saw.
He only wore a pair of black trousers, his torso bare and delectable. The muscle ridges, flexed and sharp enough to cut, told the story of his training throughout the years.
But there were fresh scars.
Bruises.
Burn marks.
