Page 216 of Golden Queen
He smiled down at me. "Just come."
I went, but I wasn't happy about it even as his level of excitement made some stupid bit of hope blossom in my chest.
When he led me into the room with the elderwood sword, I felt my face drain of color.
"Absolutely not, Io. You will not touch that thing," His ridiculously noble heart was giving him the mistaken impression that he could wield that terrifying, pain-inducing bit of elderwood and break my cuffs. He was foolish enough to believe himself capable of withstanding the pain for me—pain so great it could incapacitate a body for a full month at the least and kill at the worst.
"Quiet," Io said, walking around the chamber and closing the three doors that led out of the rounded room.
"I won't be quiet!" I hoped my voice carried to the smiths in the forge only a couple of doors away.
"Once again, my wicked, impatient Sera, you have to trust me."
I moved to block him as he headed for the sword in the center of the room. "If you touch it, so will I!"
"You will do no such thing.”
"You won't be able to stop me. You'll be on the ground, writhing in pain and crying for your mother!"
He gave me an irreverent grin as he approached. "I won't."
"You're not that strong, you fucking idiot!"
"It's not strength I'm after, Sera."
"What are youafter, then? Being unconscious for a month? Death?" I demanded, pushing against his chest.
He slid his hands around my backside and pulled me to him. "Generally, I’m after getting inside your...hot…” He punctuated each word with a soft kiss on my lips “...tight...sweet..." I didn't notice he’d been moving me backward until my back hit the edge of the pedestal, and I heard a scraping hiss, like stone against stone.
I gasped, turning to find his hand on the elderwood blade.
"No!" I shouted as he lifted it from the plinth. I reached for him as though to smack it out of his hands, but he raised his arm higher.
"Careful, darling. You really don't want to touch this thing."
"What the fuck, Io? How did you do that? Are you okay? It doesn't hurt?" I reached up, running my hands over his face assessing him, looking for signs that he was hiding the effects of the blade from me.
"I'm fine. And to answer your question, I don't know. I've been playing with this sword since I was a boy. Nothing has ever happened. I never told a soul, and neither will you, so we need to hurry."
"Why would you never tell anyone?" I hissed, letting him gather my wrists on the edge of the stone.
He chuckled. "Then, it was because I knew Cassius would be cross with me, and I didn't want him to tell my father. But now...I don't want to have to fight every king in the world when they won't take my word for it that I don't want or have any claim on the fucking crystal throne. Now, are you ready?"
I nodded. "I'm ready."
"I won't hit you," he promised.
"I know that," I said, glowering at him.
He smiled that wicked, dark smile. "My brave girl."
He stretched the fingers of one hand across my forearms, holding them together. A whisper of cool darkness ran down my wrists.
I closed my eyes, not because I doubted him, but because some unsettled part of my brain apparently did.
I felt nothing from his hand on my arm—not tension, not muscle contraction, not even a breath of wind as he swung the blade down and struck the cuffs.
I heard the muffled ring of the elderwood striking metal and opened my eyes to see the remains of the mellitrium on the stone table. Only a fine powder was left behind where the sword had shattered both cuffs into nothing in one swing.
