Page 136 of You Only Love Twice
"You need to sit," he snarled, towing her toward a nearby chair. "What the hell's going on? How did you get down here?" He looked around sharply as if a thought occurred. "Thequeen."
"Haven't you heard all the ruckus?" she asked in a bemused voice, still feeling. "I'm fairly certain someone set off an explosion near the throne room. And there's a body in the hallway. Your mistress, I think."
There went the last traces of his discomposure. Malloryn went shockingly still, reverting to his icy persona.
"Are you all right?" he demanded.
She nodded. "Hattie's out in the hall. I didn't want her to see."
"Good. Stay here."
Then he limped toward the door, his right leg dragging, as if he'd already forgotten her.
* * *
Light beganto penetrate her closed eyelids. A gentle hand stirred through her hair. Gemma blinked awake, the familiar shape of a man's lips bare inches from her own. Ashen brown hair fanned around his face like a halo.
"Dima?" she whispered.
Fingertips traced her cheek. "I'm here. I wanted to be here when you woke up."
Woke up?
God. She felt like every inch of her had been pummeled, and her throat burned. Gemma tried to lift her hand, but it was trapped against her body. What on earth—?
"Here. Take it easy." Obsidian helped her to sit.
Gemma swayed, looking at the heavy stone walls and the barred door. Her left arm was strapped across her chest in a leather sling somewhat akin to a straitjacket, and every inch of her body ached. Pain pounded behind her temples, like an ice pick straight through her right eye.
"Where am I?" she slurred.
What had happened? Was that blood on her split skirts?
"We're in Thorne Tower."
Thorne Tower?
Home to traitors, violent murderers, and dangerous political dissidents. And this time she was on the other side of the bars. Gemma's head jerked up, and suddenly it all came rushing back to her in a jumbled mess. There was blood splashed through her memories. Byrnes screaming at her. A flash of Ingrid's face. Thebang-bang-bangof the gun in her hand, and an odd image of Malloryn crawling away from her, leaving a smear of blood behind him as she stalked toward him, bringing the pistol up—
"Where is Malloryn?" she whispered hoarsely, because her memories ended there, watching him crawl for the forlorn pistol on the ground as she lifted her pistol and pointed it at the back of his head.
"I don't know. They weren't going to lock me up, but I insisted. I didn't want you to be alone. The last I heard he was missing."
The hot flush of not-tears swept through the back of her sinuses. A sound broke from her chest; a squeaky wheeze that sounded like something dying.
Damn it. She knew herself.
She didn't miss when she meant to kill.
Obsidian held his arms out.
"You shouldn't touch me." Not when there was blood on her hands. Not when there was so much darkness staining her soul—
"I'm not afraid of your darkness, Gemma," he told her, and she realized she must have breathed the words out loud. "There's nothing inside you that could ever make me turn away. Your darkness is but a mirror to mine."
He knew.
She looked up helplessly, but he merely held his arms open as if she belonged there.
