Page 78 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
I was on my knees, tears streaming down my face.
I couldn’t feel my hands. I was curled on the ground.
“The good news is that nobody will ever call you a helpless lamb again,” Adara’s voice rumbled from somewhere nearby. I could barely hear her from the blaring in my ears.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder. I flinched back, only to see Zandyr crouching beside me.
Blood dripped from his sword.
The blood inside the hilt whirled around.
But neither looked as menacing as his darkening gaze.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
EVIE
“Thank you for protecting my people.” Zandyr’s rough voice reverberated through my bedroom.
I was alone with Zandyr once again.
My body ached too much to fret over it. Whatever that gush of magic had been, it had drained and pummeled every fiber of me.
Zandyr had offered to carry me back to my house, but that had been a hard no. With those rumors swirling around, the last thing I needed was for someone to see me weak.
I hadn’t counted on him silently stalking beside me, though, like a sentry.
Then following me up to my room, a constant cloud of wrath.
He still stared at the door, his back to me, unmoving.
He’d mercifully shrugged on a robe; at least those well-defined muscles of his back wouldn’t torture me in this state. Once he turned and his abdomen would be on full display…
“I’m Protectorate.” I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the web of sculpted beams on my ceiling. The sweaty clothes were molded to my skin. I needed to change and bathe, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t move. “Protecting people is what we do.”
“For your own,” he rumbled.
Yes, we could be a selfish bunch. But not always. “And for those who need it. In a few short weeks, those people in the temple will be mine, too.”
Fury rolled off him. He had his hands clasped behind his back, fingers twisted so firmly, the grip looked painful.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Drained. Beaten. Burnt out. “Tired,” was all I said.
He nodded at the door, then turned. Anger pulled at his narrowed eyes and lips. He looked dangerous. Dangerous and pissed-off.
“Have you lost your mind?” he asked in an icy tone that skittered down my spine.
“No, but you must’ve lost yours if you think I regret doing that.”
He took a thunderous step toward me. “This is not a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You could havedied.” The composure in his voice cracked, anger seeping out. And something else, an emotion I was in no state to detect right now.
