Page 116 of A Warrior's Heart
In my room later that night, I stared at the ceiling, wide awake. My grief over Troy had been buried deep in my heart, but his loss hit me hard right then. My arms felt too empty without him nestled in them.
Was Lorcan right? Was Troy still alive?
I closed my eyes and brought his face to mind. I recalled every dip and smooth curve, every light freckle. I recalled the soft pout of his lips and the gold powder he wore on his eyelids. My heart squeezed in my chest, beating with hope for the first time in over two months.
Please let him be alive.
Triton’s words bounced around in my head. He felt that the conflict with King James was about to be upon us.
I felt it too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Troy
Ezra obeyed the king’s order and didn’t hit me again.
No, what he did was worse. I would’ve preferred the beatings.
For the past week, he had tortured me with his magic. Though no physical wounds showed, he had set my blood on fire, frozen my lungs so I couldn’t breathe, and made me feel like my insides were twisting.
The worst of it though? He had toyed with my mind.
“Stop!” I cried as I saw Malik dead on the floor in front of me, blood oozing from a deep gash in his throat. I knew it wasn’t really him. Itcouldn’tbe. However, after constant mental torture and very little sleep, reality and fantasy were beginning to blend. “Please. Make it stop.”
Ezra yanked my head back by my hair and smiled down at me. “I quite like hearing you beg. It’s poetic justice. Your lover killed mine… and now I have you in my possession to do with what I wish. A mate for a mate.”
He dug his fingers into my jaw and forced my eyes back to the illusion he’d created. But instead of Malik dead on the floor, I saw him standing.
“Troy,” Malik said, holding out a hand to me. “I missed you.”
Tears fell from my eyes. “You’re not real.”
The illusion of Malik smirked before pulling a dagger from his hip and running the sharp blade across his throat. I cried as I watched his large body collapse, blood spraying from the wound. Then, as if time was going backward, the blood disappeared, and Malik stood back up.
I watched him die countless times. Sometimes he slit his own throat, other times he was decapitated, but each death was violent and gruesome.
Sobs shook my entire body, and I became ill from it, dry heaving on the floor.
“You can put an end to this, Troy,” Ezra whispered in my ear as I stared at Malik’s bloody corpse. “All you need to do is yield to me.”
Another tear rolled down my cheek. “Never.”
“I must admit I’m in awe of your strength.” Ezra walked over to his wardrobe. He removed his shirt before putting on one garnished with gold and gems. Looking in the mirror, he combed his pale hair with a silver brush. “I expected you to break by now.”
I held my tongue, not wanting to rouse his temper. I was too exhausted. He spoke of my strength when I felt like I’d shatter any moment. My sanity was hanging on by a single thread.
“All in good time, I suppose.” He placed the brush back on the vanity and turned to me. “Your resolve is weakening with each passing day.”
“You will never win.” My voice sounded off to my ears. Had it always been so raspy? “I’ll die before I surrender.”
“I almost pity you.” Ezra squatted down in front of me, turning my face from side to side. I tried to jerk away from him, but I couldn’t move. My muscles had given out on me. “You still have hope, don’t you? Yes. I see it in your eyes. A flame burns inside your heart, though it’s dimmed. Soon, those shadows will consume the rest of you.”
“Hope thrives even in darkness,” I said. “Nothing can snuff it out.”
Ezra patted my cheek before stepping across the room. It was evening, so I knew he was on his way to dinner. He always dressed nice for the occasion, wanting to look pleasing for the king.
“I’ll leave you with a parting gift,” he said as he opened the door.
