Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

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B ACK AT THE CASTLE, MY EVENING BECAME UNEVENTFUL the moment Finnian and Saskia were pulled away to an advisor meeting. Time stands unnervingly still despite it being half past three o'clock in the morning. I'll dig a trench in the floor if I keep pacing, but Cayden hasn't returned and my anxiety beats through me like a war drum.

Cayden's tasks as Commander of Vareveth are shrouded in danger. He had to tie up loose ends at the border, but he said he'd come back. Ever since we've met, he's always shown up whenever he said he would; most of the time I feel like I can't escape his presence. But the quiet in the suite is deafening.

I can't stop envisioning him bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, knowing I possess the skills to both find and heal him. He's the only person I trust enough to pull off the dragon heist. Trusting him is beyond idiotic, and I can't do it fully, but we're united through our shared drive for vengeance. Assassins lurk around every corner, it seems, but I'm so tired of hiding and letting what if s define my choices. If the world is threatened by me, then I'll give them a reason to be.

The only solace I find within the bitterness of needing him is that he needs me, too. We're two independent, power-hungry people stuck together in this loop of codependency. Freeing my dragons requires Cayden to stay alive, and using those dragons in the war requires me to stay alive as well.

The door to his room is locked and deadbolted on both sides, but that doesn't stop me from strapping knives down my legs. People with a history of being locked in cages have a way of finding exit strategies no one else sees, which is why the guards at my door will remain blissfully unaware of the queen slipping through their fingers.

The night air engulfs me when I shove my balcony doors open. It's a deadly fall to the ground below, but I've jumped from rooftop to rooftop in search of information, money, or blood most of my life. Perhaps it'll teach Cayden a lesson on punctuality if I die.

I place the table and chair at the edge of my balcony for an additional boost and tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ears while staring down the gap. In my gut I know he would be here unless something important arose, and I won't sit in the castle like a docile princess waiting for him.

"Cayden Veles, if you're not bleeding then I'll make you bleed," I vow to the moon and stars before taking off in a sprint to outrun the logical side of my brain screaming at me to stop.

My boot hits the table with a loud clang before I thrust myself into the air. Wind whips at my face and through my cloak. I keep my eyes on Cayden's balcony as I propel closer, not entertaining the possibility of failure.

I land in a crouch and smirk over my shoulder, raising my middle finger and muttering a curse to gravity before pulling two small knives from my holster and picking the lock to his balcony doors. Not as efficient as Cayden's picks, but before long the door swings open and I'm met with the evidence of his absence.

I press my ear to the private door in Cayden's chambers to ensure that no guards will spot me when I step into the hall. It's the only other way to enter the suite and is mainly used by servants. I wrap my hand around the handle and cringe at the sound of the bolt retracting. The door softly shuts in my wake, and I keep my steps light and my head down. I've learned how to walk like a shadow over the years. Darkness can't scare you when you're one of the monsters that lurk in it.

The damp earth cushions my jump when I slip through a window on the lowest level of the castle. This is the most entertainment I've had since Cayden and I infiltrated the prison. I toss rocks to get guards to turn away from me and quickly make my way toward the forest leading to Ladislava.

My throat burns as I sprint through the forest as if a netherwraith were gaining on me. Years spent in the Terrwyn have conditioned me to stay alert as I move swiftly. I've spent most of my life running from danger, and I'm now realizing that I relish a chase. I'm not out for a fight, but I wouldn't mind finding one along the way.

I creep quietly through Ladislava, scaling a building and hiding above unsuspecting soldiers with a broad smile on my face. The moon is the only witness to my secret mission, and I revel in my dalliance with danger.

I drop into an alleyway and slide myself onto a golden mare saddled and ready to be ridden. Saskia informed me of the pens in Ladislava that always have rested horses at the ready in case a soldier needs one for an emergency. I click my tongue and lead her through the trees, not trusting the main road, and jostle the reins after a few moments to signal a sprint.

Time passes quickly here, unspooling like a rogue ball of yarn being chased by a kitten. I know time is precious and that we should hold on to it while we can, but forsaking a life in favor of safety seems like a waste. When I greet the eternal darkness, I'll go there knowing I lived.

The mare gets spooked when a loud boom shakes the ground. I run my hand down her mane and whisper soothing words to calm her while continuing our journey at a slower pace. Curiosity and trepidation mingle within me, causing my heart to pound and my throat to tighten.

I slide down from the horse and keep my head down while walking into the camp, tying her off on a post close to the main road. More people than I anticipated are awake and roaming. I clasp the satchel strap between my clammy hands and weave through the rows until coming upon the largest black and green tent.

It calls to me like a sailor staring down land from a storm-throttled ship.

I raise my chin, not caring if anyone recognizes me now, which I'm sure they do given the surprised whispers. But I pay them little mind as I rip open the entrance without announcing myself and find Cayden covered in blood.

"Oh gods." My knees feel weak as I rush toward him. He glances at his whiskey before removing his reading glasses and slowly blinking at me. "You should be sitting down."

He stiffens when I roam my hands over his torso. The blood on the fabric dampens them, meddling with my search, so I slide them under his shirt and continue. When I speak again, my voice is much more frantic than I intend. "Where is the wound? Why isn't there a healer in here?"

His large hands frame my face and tilt my head up once his shock wears off. A mixture of worry and suspicion swims in his eyes, accompanied by something dark. "Why are you here? Are you all right?"

"You're bleeding!" I trail my fingers through the divots in his muscles and find nothing.

"It's not my blood."

"Wh-what?" Now it's my turn to blink slowly.

"It's. Not. My. Blood."

I abruptly shove away from him, wiping my bloodied hands on my pants in hopes of erasing the feeling of his skin from my memory. My frustration increases when it doesn't work. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I liked feeling your hands on me." He smiles, but his eyes remain humorless. I throw my satchel at his face, but he catches it and places it on the desk. His eyes stalk me as I toss my cloak over a chair. "You shouldn't be here."

"Eagor ordered you to stay away, not me," I bite out, and his jaw clenches. "And it doesn't seem like you give any heed to that warning."

"It doesn't seem like you give any heed to several assassins making attempts on your life, considering you're roaming the streets like a commoner."

"I thought you were hurt!" I dig my nails into my palms to ground me. "If I could do this without you, I would. It would save me a headache."

"Likewise, princess," he scoffs. Ever since we met, we've pulled and pushed each other like the moon controls the tides, but tonight there's no pulling, only pushing.

"I can't stand you!" I suppress the urge to stab him when he gestures toward the several unoccupied seats in the room.

"Do you realize how close you're standing to Imirath right now?" The sound of his heavy boots coming closer fills the space between us. "You don't think that makes me worried?"

I refuse to let the way he stares down at me intimidate me.

"How about the thought of another assassin trying to kill you when absolutely nobody knew where you were tonight?"

I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me by lifting my chin with his finger.

"We can also discuss your brilliant idea of walking to a tea shop as if you're not the lost princess of Imirath with a link to five dragons." He walks forward when I step back, cornering me against his desk.

"If you're angry with me about that, then you should've said something earlier," I say.

"When?" Candlelight flutters across his face, illuminating the blood and anger. "You were drugged and scared, so I set my anger aside for you."

I flinch at his words. "Perhaps Eagor and Ailliard are right. Distance may do us some good. I want a different guard to stay in the suite with me."

"Elowen, so help me gods." He runs a hand through his hair, but the simple act holds my focus. "The only way another man is staying in that suite is if I'm dead, and even then, there will need to be some negotiation."

I wrap my hand around his wrist, matching his glare with equal venom. Dried blood is caked on every knuckle. I'm sure there's bruising beneath the mess. "You either tell me what happened or I'm walking out of this tent and finding out myself."

When he laughs, it's not with a smile but bared teeth. Papers crinkle beneath me when he abruptly reaches forward and lifts me onto the desk, standing between my parted legs and caging me with his body while I lean back on my arms.

"You're mine to protect, whether you like it or not."

"Likewise." He can handle my anger just as well as I can handle his, which is why even when his eyes shoot daggers in my direction, I know he'd throw a blade at anyone who wishes me harm. "You know just as well as I do that we're stuck together, which means I want to know where you are, if you're okay, if—"

"Watch your words, El. You're beginning to sound like you care about me."

"I care about my dragons."

He tilts my face toward him. "Then why did you drop your eyes to say that?"

Caring about him is a language I'm surrounded by but don't know how to speak. Meeting his gaze is like a dagger piercing my chest, and yet I can't stop. His eyes have claws that sink into my flesh and hold me hostage. My mind implores me to remember all the reasons why the way he's making me feel is forbidden, but he's so close, and all I can recall is how badly I wanted him to close the gap between us a few hours ago.

He leans closer to reach behind me and doesn't look away as he takes a sip of whiskey. "I found the assassin who ran." I absorb the news and release a shaky breath, digging my fingernails into his desk and waiting for him to continue. "It was one of my soldiers. They were working with assassins from Imirath and let them over the border. I suppose I lost track of time while educating my army on what happens if they even so much as think of harming you and betraying me."

I nod slowly while my stomach rolls at the mention of Imirath. "I suppose some of your soldiers will wish me dead for being the princess of Imirath."

His face doesn't change when he flatly states, "Then they will die."

If I didn't know him, I'd think he was calm, but his eyes give away the tight leash he has on his anger, ready to let go and weaponize it whenever he wishes. Sometimes I think his anger will burn him from the inside out.

I scan the dried blood on his cheeks, neck, forearms, and knuckles. My heartbeat increases as the silence stretches on and I come to a realization. He caresses my throat and slides his thumb over my pulse, looking eerily beautiful.

"You didn't come to the castle because you were torturing your soldier," I whisper.

"Finish the sentence."

I swallow. "For me."

"Good." He trails his thumb across my neck again, and his lips quirk when he feels the jump in my pulse. His face inches closer to mine, but I don't move, earning another stroke of his thumb. "Do you know what happens to traitors in Vareveth?"

"No," I answer steadily, despite feeling entirely unstable.

"A commander usually picks a soldier to fight in their stead, but I prefer to carry out my own sentences. The ceremony begins with the opportunity to physically fight the traitor without weapons or armor, and after that the commander can choose forms of torture and execution."

He looks down at me like he's waiting for me to push him away, but the thought of him fighting on my behalf to the point of busted knuckles caked in blood has the opposite effect on me. Maybe it's because I've never had anyone lose themself through avenging me or going feral at the prospect of my pain.

"What did you do to him?" I feel like I can hardly get air into my lungs as I wait for his response. He monitors my reactions like a predator watching their prey from the bushes.

"He said several things about you that I refuse to repeat, so I cut out his tongue to continue the execution without his abhorrent babbling. Then I carved those words onto his back very slowly. I gathered my army for the demonstration. He was a friend to some, but I ensured he ended this night as an enemy to all."

He takes another sip of whiskey.

My words are trudging through mud in my mind. I have nothing to offer him other than silence.

"I apologize for not sending a letter to the castle, but I was waiting for the gallwings after I dumped him in the forest." I've never seen the creatures, but I've heard stories of the serpentlike beasts. The venom in their fangs makes your skin feel like it's on fire and slowly paralyzes you. "I managed to wait for their frenzy to pass and cut off his head to bring back to camp. There wasn't much of a job to finish, but I ensured that he felt excruciating pain until his very last blink."

"But a public execution on my behalf would mean . . ." I shake my head, unable to fathom it.

"I took a vow to protect you, Elowen. You have my loyalty, and now everyone else knows it, too." He slides his hand to the base of my skull.

"But Eagor—"

"Stop talking about Eagor," he bites out.

"My people need this treaty to survive."

"And they will." The intensity of his gaze keeps me pinned in place just as much as his body. "But I won't stand by for the sake of diplomacy. I will always hunt down anyone who harms you even if you're repulsed by me. I don't regret a single scream I stole from him; I savor them."

I can't fathom how he thinks I could be repulsed by his actions when I know I'd do the same if I were in his position. I can show Cayden the darkest parts of myself, the twisted parts I hide, and find comfort in knowing that the same darkness resides in him. He's never been my enemy. He's the first person to take on my enemy both with and for me.

I'll deal with the consequences when I hit the ground, but tonight I'm tired of walking a fine line. I turned away from him after we infiltrated the prison, but I'm not turning away now. I lick my lips while straightening my spine to get closer to him. His lips part, and a shudder travels through him when I cup his scarred cheek. Cayden won't take from me, so I want to give to him.

His hand shoots to my hip, holding me tight. "El?"

My lips are inches from his, and the pull is nearly more than I can bear. "Yes?"

"Careful, angel. You give a man a taste of salvation, and he might keep coming back for more." His arms are shaking from restraint.

"Is that what I am to you? Your salvation?" I whisper, brushing my lips against his.

"If you are to be my damnation, it's an end I'll happily meet."

He closes the gap between us, and our lips meet in a collision of pent-up passion. Everything else around me disappears from the world as if it never existed; the only thing that remains is him. My hands snake around his neck and weave through his hair, deepening our kiss. A moan slips from my lips when his tongue enters my mouth, and any leash he had on himself vanishes. He pulls my hips forward and presses his hardness into the pulsing spot between my legs that aches for him. I whimper at the new sensation, and he groans against my lips. Gods, that's the best sound I've ever heard.

I arch my back, wrap my legs around his waist, and am rewarded with another delicious, throaty groan from him. He kisses me like I'm the last woman in this world. His body fits perfectly with mine as he lays me back on the desk, and I roll my hips against his hardened length. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down my neck, biting and sucking as he pleases while rolling his hips into mine, echoing the same needy movements I'm giving him.

"Cayden," I moan as he sucks on a sensitive part of my neck. My fingers tighten in the strands of his hair, and my legs tighten around his waist.

He groans into my neck. "You're going to be the death of me."

Gods, it's true that the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. I've been kissed before but never like this. It's the kind of kiss I'd kill for. I remove my hands from his hair and trail them under his shirt to grip his muscular back.

"Say my name again," he demands, nibbling on my earlobe. But his name catches in my throat from the overwhelming combination of his lips, our bodies grinding together, and the weight of him on top of me. I'm so close to pushing off this desk and dragging him over to the bed. "I told you to say my name," he commands again, sliding his hands down to firmly grip my ass and press himself into me harder.

"Cayden," I gasp, writhing beneath him.

"Perfect." His teeth graze over the sensitive skin on my neck, and his fingers weave through my hair. "Did you enjoy the sight of me on my knees, angel?" I moan when he bites down and dig my nails into his back.

My back arches off the desk as he licks his way up to my mouth. He crashes his lips onto mine again, and I pull on his shoulders, wanting him even closer. He bends farther to comply as much as he can, given that the desk is too small for him to get on top of me. His hands feverishly roam over my body like a sinner grasping at redemption.

He'll always echo my intensity and urge me for more. He's a challenge, an ally, and a rival mixed together. I trace the raised scars on his back with my fingertips, and I'm rewarded with another groan. The feel of his bare skin makes me feel alive. I've never reacted to someone like this. It's addictive, and I can't stop myself from wanting more.

"Commander, I have— Oh! "

Reality crashes into me, penetrating the universe we briefly escaped into, and my body stiffens. Cayden doesn't break apart immediately; instead, he lingers above me for a few moments, brushing his swollen lips against mine. I swallow the whimper that rises in my throat and force myself not to roll my hips onto his again, no matter how much I want to. He wraps his arms around my torso and straightens me up with him.

"You can leave the envelope by the door." Cayden jerks his chin toward a small table with a letter tray on it. His hands move in languid strokes down my spine.

"Of course, sir." The servant bows his head before turning to place the letter on the tray. "Would you like me to assemble any of the generals to discuss the details?"

I glance toward Cayden and sense him saying yes before he does. His eyes are shadowed with the same exhaustion as this morning; he needs to sleep. I poke him in the back, and he glances down at me, quirking a brow before turning back toward the servant.

"We need a few moments," Cayden states.

"My apologies, Your Graces." The servant nervously tugs the bottom of his tunic while slipping from the tent.

Cayden removes one hand from my back and tilts my chin toward him, brushing his swollen lips over mine and smiling when he hears the small gasp it wrings from me.

"Are you okay?" he huskily mumbles, dropping his forehead to mine.

"We'll take the meeting in the morning. You need to sleep." I match his quiet tone even though we're alone. His eyes are lighter than before, and the sight of that eases something in me.

"I think we're going to take it now," he says, stroking the back of my head.

"You'll get used to being wrong eventually." He halfheartedly glares at me. "You found and killed the assassin, so whatever is in that envelope can wait until morning. We'll both benefit from space right now." What I don't say is that he looks far too tempting to fall into again, and I don't trust myself.

He slides his thumb over my swollen lips before removing his hands from me. "Don't look at me like you wish you could regret me."

"You know we can't do this." I gesture between the two of us, but I keep glancing at his lips. "What if your servant tells people he saw us . . ."

"Kissing? Nobody will believe it. You're too pretty for me." The dimples deepen on his cheeks when he notes my blush. "He won't say anything."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'll know who to kill." He pivots on his heels to inform the servant of his decision before striding toward his wardrobe and grabbing a sweater. "Do you need help with your corset?"

"Excuse me?" I nervously laugh as an image of him ripping off my corset flashes in my brain before I shove it away.

"You're sleeping here. I doubt you want to sleep in that."

I gesture to the small silver hooks that line the center when he hands me the sweater and say, "I can unhook this one from the front."

"My offer still stands." I try to glare but fail miserably. "You're staying in there," he says, pointing toward two pulled-back flaps leading to a dimly lit room. My hands tighten on the sweater as jealousy rises in me when I take in the second bedroom filled with womanly touches.

"I'll sleep on the couch," I mutter in a flat tone without turning to him. He can do whatever he wants with whoever he wants, but a selfish part of me doesn't want to know about it. He walks toward me, and his heat on my back makes me want to curl into him like a cat lying in a ray of sunlight.

"I've received many compliments on this room."

"I bet you have." I want to swim in a freezing river until my sanity returns.

"Saskia really thought the bedding was your taste, but I'll be happy to tell her she was wrong. Ryder might curse me for not going with the fabric he preferred."

I whirl around and nearly crash into his chest. "What are you saying?"

His eyes dance over my face in a way I'm becoming accustomed to. "It was always my intention to bring you here, Elowen. Granted, you showed up earlier than I planned, but I had my bedroom moved into my meeting room while I was gone. I take meetings in a separate tent now."

There's no exit in here, meaning if someone gets into the tent, they'll have to get through Cayden first. I look down at my boots, embarrassed and overwhelmed. "You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't do it for entirely selfless reasons." He reaches out to tilt my chin up. "Sweet dreams, angel."