Page 44 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
I snatched the quill out of his hand, face heating, and scribbled my name onto the contract.
No swish of energy crawled up my hand, no dire whirlwind engulfed me, and the ground didn’t shift underneath my feet.
But my veins…they throbbed.
I couldhearmy blood flowing through me, fast and hectic, as if seeking something I couldn’t describe. The quill and contract fell from between my fingers as I swayed on the spot.
My mind was light and scattered, eyelids fluttering as everything around me turned gray. Someone was calling my name. Shouting. No, whispering. But it sounded like a roar in my chest, beckoning. My body jerked.
No, someone was jerkingme.
“Evie.” Zandyr’s large palms circled my shoulders. He was the only speck of light in the gray. His icy gaze bore into mine.
“What’s going on?” I muttered, falling more into his grasp than I wanted to. But he was warm, while the rest of the world turned colder and darker.
“Surge of power,” he whispered, pulling me closer. One of his palms cradled the back of my head. His hot breaths warmed my forehead, instilling more strength in me.
“Breathe,” he whispered. The vibrations pulsed through my temples, as if he was speaking directly into me. It was strange.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, knees shaking.
“You’re...welcome,” he said, as if the words felt foreign on his tongue. He released a long sigh. “As lovely as you smell, the guards are watching.”
“So?”
“Why do you think they were instructed to keep an eye on you?”
My muscles seized. “To report.”
“Good girl,” Zandyr whispered. “The Blood Brotherhood abhors weakness.”
“I am not weak,” I hissed.
“No, you are not, but some people don’t understand what true power is. Prove them wrong.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m Blood Brotherhood. I know the show everyone is waiting for. Play with their expectations.”
“I’m not a puppet.”
“No, you’ll be a queen. Act like one.”
Rage rushed through me. It burned at the haze that had enveloped me, the colors slowly returning. Zandyr was no longer the light, he was as dark as the uniform he wore.
My fingers dug underneath my belt. The switchblade flicked–but he moved too fast once more.
He caught my wrist, holding the blade right against his armor. Pushing against it to show me it wouldn’t penetrate the thick leather.
A strange ripple of tension flowed between us as we stared at each other, neither backing down. I inhaled his breaths, and he inhaled mine, caught in this weird struggle.
“Good, but not great,” he said, icy gaze racing over my face. “If you insist on that little weapon, find a better place to hide it. You lose valuable time fishing it out.”
I fisted my free palm against his chest and pushed with all my might. I wouldn’t have been able to shove him, but he played his part as well, stepping back.
“Again,” he said, crossing his hands behind his back. “I’m unarmed. Show me how you can handle yourself.”
I didn’t think.
