Chapter 22

It's well past first light when I wake in the empty bed. Pain spears through the crack in my rib as I roll over, sending the memory of yesterday's embarrassing incident to the front of my mind. I ease my legs over the side of the bed and out from the warm blanket.

The blanket I distinctly remember sleeping on topof last night.

I may live to see a million suns and still not understand the Black Art. Threatening the very air I breathe one second and sheltering me from the morning chill the next. And letting me sleep hours past the time I'm sure he would have preferred to leave, having seen his urgency to return to Scarwood yesterday.

I find him outside the tent, shoving the rest of our dried clothes into the saddle bag attached to a large ebony horse. Sin scans me in a single glance, his eyes hovering on my side as if he could assess the damage there through my loose-fitting shirt.

Neither of us bother with forced pleasantries, but when he waves me forward to lift me onto the horse, careful of my broken rib, I don't object.

"Front or back?" he asks with a sly grin.

I shoot him a disapproving glower as I step up to the horse. "Back," I answer, not liking the thought of riding injured with him at my rear.

Sin lifts me to the back of the saddle, then hops onto the steed with the speed and grace one only achieves through experience. "You're full of surprises, little witch. I would have thought you'd prefer me behind you," he hums darkly.

"In your dreams, Blackheart."

Sin cracks the reins, and I wrap my hands around his waist as the horse he commandeered takes off in a violent gallop, his soft laughter lost in the thundering of hooves.

We're only a few hours out from the castle, having made it most of the way yesterday before the storm left us stranded in the downpour. The skies are calm this morning, but the wind on my face stings like a horde of bees. I press my cheek to his back, his large body a perfect barrier to the assaulting wind, and the smell of steel and cedar and sword oils wraps itself around me, tangling in my hair and flirting with my tongue. As much as I may hate to admit it, his scent is mouthwatering.

If Sin takes problem with my hands clutched around him, he doesn't vocalize it. He's probably too lost in his thoughts of who's next on his ever-growing hit list to even realize how tightly I'm forced to cling to him. And I can't help but wonder just how high my name is on that list.

* * *

Scarwood's southern courtyard is a tempest of armor and steel. Rows of soldiers speckle the open training grounds, sparring and running drills under the watchful eye of the moon. While I may have sneered at it before, tonight, satisfaction blooms in my gut as I watch them quickstep to their metallic songs. The better prepared Sin's armies, the higher my chances of rescuing Cosmina.

Ships of towering heights rear up from the castle's moat, the armored soldiers training in the shadow of their black and gray sails. Beyond the water barrier, my eyes barely make out the edge of Spiritwood, the woods that enclose the castle's east and connect to Autumnhelm at the bridge.

As promised, Sin escorted me to Anika as soon as we returned, and she quickly repaired the break. After a much-needed wash in the bathhouse and a hearty meal from the kitchen, I decided I could no longer delay the inevitable.

I scan for Sin across the training grounds and find him almost immediately. It isn't the long black hair or burnt umber skin that catches my eye. It's the darkness that hovers around him, moving as he does and making way as his sword slices through the night.

Even the shadows cower in his wake.

Aldred prowls between the rows, surveying the armies he commands and stopping to correct mistakes. Mistakes that could be the difference between killing and being killed on an unforgiving battlefield. He pauses next to Ileana where the Black Hand duels with a male partner much larger than herself, and they both lower their weapons at once. Aldred adjusts her stance, shifting the position of her hips and shoulders, then has her raise the sword in her slender hand once more.

My stare darts back to Sin as he extends a hand to his partner, heaving him off the ground and back to his feet. He wears the same steel plate over his bare chest and back, his long, sculpted arms exposed on either side. Molded to his thick thighs are black leather fighting pants—pants that leave little to the imagination of the powerful, muscled legs beneath them.

I call out his title, my voice falling from my lips softer than I meant and out of place amidst the tense surroundings. Even the air out here is a honed knife, sharp enough to cut through flesh should one take a careless step.

Even under the armored plate, I see the tensing of his shoulders when he hears my voice, and he rolls his neck once before turning to face me.

I swallow my gasp.

It has only been a few hours since we parted ways, but the chilling intensity of him clad in his silver armor nearly knocks me back a step. His eyes, bright as stars in the midnight sky, widen for a mere second before his usual hard stare slams down. He assesses me from head to toe, either checking me for lingering damage or scanning for new hidden weapons on my body.

"We need to speak. Privately," I add.

He shoots a quick glance around us. "How private?"

"Very."

His dark eyebrow threatens to touch his hairline, but after a quick read of the nerves surely written on my face, Sin nods and turns to dismiss his partner as he sheathes the weapon at his hip.

I follow him through the double doors of the southern entrance and up a winding staircase. My feet scramble to take twice as many steps as him to keep up with his long legs as he ventures down a long corridor that spills into the wing that contains his study.

Sin stops at a door with an arched threshold and presses his palm to the wood to unlock it before pushing it open and stepping inside. When I enter behind him, a sudden rush of heat floods my cheeks as I take in what room we now stand in.

His bedroom.

A massive bed with a towering head and footboard of black stained wood juts from the wall to my left, a golden blanket draped over the red sheets. A couple armoires crafted from the same ebony wood line the opposite wall, and thick, pewter rugs are thrown tastefully about the polished stone flooring. A large chair made of what appears to be buttery soft black leather sits in the far corner, next to a decorative table with a decanter filled with a garnet-colored mead. The walls are devoid of art, merely painted with the same gray and silvery patterns as the rest of the castle's interior walls. A set of double doors on the far wall open to a balcony, and I glimpse a few plants adorned with simple, decorative pots dotting the outside space.

"You said we needed privacy, and I can't think of a more private place in the entire keep. They know not to disturb me here."

The ice in his words suggests a few may have made that mistake before and would surely never make it again. Sin leans against one of the armoires, this one having a wide mirror attached to the side of it, and crosses his arms. An invitation for me to begin.

Suddenly feeling awkward standing in the center of the room, now too aware of myself and not knowing what to do with my hands, I clasp them together and pin them against my waist.

"You never asked what I learned when I tried locating my sister back at the cabin."

He shrugs a rounded shoulder. "Why would it be of any importance to me where they're keeping her? It's not as if I was going to escort you to a Legion camp so you could entangle us both in your mess."

I scoff at his blatant disregard for my sister's predicament. "You needn't worry about that, Your Grace, because I do not know where she is, and even if I had been successful in locating her whereabouts, I would not require an escort, and surely not from the likes of you." The words spill from my mouth with frustrated haste.

"If you were unable to perform a simple locator spell, perhaps I've overestimated your power."

"I was perfectly able to, you arrogant asshole, but they're hiding her location with a cloaking spell."

He crosses the distance between us in one step of his long legs, his large hand cupping the entirety of my throat as he pushes my shoulders against the wall. I claw at his hands, and his grip tightens, restricting my airway almost completely.

"Such a filthy mouth you have. I'm beginning to think you enjoy my hands around your throat, little witch."

I swallow hard under his too-large hands, willing my pulse to stop pounding wildly under his fingers and failing.

He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring as a gleam of what can only be described as pure sin flashes in his forested eyes. "It certainly smells like you do."

Lifting my foot up, I slam it down on his with as much force as I can muster through my now darkening vision. He chuckles softly like my assault was nothing more than a feather quill tickling his foot, but he releases me, taking a few steps back.

"You're an animal," I seethe, rubbing my neck as if I could massage away the imprint of Sin's callused fingertips, and sucking in a deep breath of air.

He smirks. "I've been called worse."

"As I was saying, they've hidden her with a cloaking spell which means they don't want me finding her. And if they don't want me coming to them, it must mean they intend to bring her to me."

"How convenient for them then, given they know precisely where you are."

"I suspect Legion plans on bringing Cosmina to Scarwood as leverage to try and persuade me to turn on you, on the kingdom. To offer me her life in exchange for the taking of yours."

His hands clench slightly where they grip his opposite elbows, his arms still folded tightly across his chest. "And what do you plan on doing if your suspicions are correct?"

Sin's stare is everywhere—my eyes, my mouth, my hands—watching every movement and burning holes in my flesh all the places he drags his heated gaze. Where I rely on my gift to detect when I'm being manipulated, Sin uses years of experience sniffing out traitors of the throne.

I blow out a deep breath, knowing now is not the time to let my pride get in the way. For once, speaking openly about who and what I am may be the best course of action to getting what I want. What I need.

"I have been hiding from Legion for years. Trying to prevent them from using me as a weapon and forcing me into becoming the monster I've never desired to be. I am telling you this… because I don't want to hurt anyone. But I will do what I must to keep my sister alive. She is not like me, she is good.

"And if they hurt her… I don't know that I can hold myself back from slaughtering every last one of them. I hesitated telling you because I feared you may have resorted to chaining me in iron and locking me back down there. I am asking for your help, Sin… help me help her. Whatever you must do with me afterwards… just let me save her first."

His eyes dart between both of mine, scanning for distrust I'm sure, though his expression reveals nothing of his thoughts. Sin's face is a calculating front, running through every possible scenario and outcome of what I have just suggested.

Tension rolls off him in such heaps, I can nearly taste it on my tongue. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he asks, "With this new discovery, should I assume you are willing to swear fealty to me and fight alongside us?" A careful question.

I give an even more careful answer. "I will fight with you against Legion," I vow. "In order to free my sister and eradicate their army as Legion will always be a threat to my family because of me. I will not, however, fight alongside you if you go forward in waging war on transcendents."

A flicker of dark amusement tugs up the corner of his lips. "Will you fight against me then? If I do declare that war?"

I snatch my bottom lip with my teeth as I mull over my answer, choosing my words with care. "I will do what I must to protect the ones I love, and the ones who are helpless."

Sin's footsteps echo through the room as he takes purposeful steps to close the distance between us, his eyes never leaving mine. Holding as still as a deer caught in a wolf's sights, my feet flex inside my boots, ready to dodge if he decides I am not worth the risk and attempts to put me down. He stops when his body is mere inches from mine, the tips of his inky hair grazing the tops of my breasts.

"That's a bold statement to make to your Black Art," he purrs, no threat in his words, but his tone cold enough I don't risk moving just yet. I plant the soles of my boots against the stone floor as his fevered stare threatens to knock me backwards. And then with a note of indifference, he says, "You begin training tomorrow."

"Training? Do you doubt my capability?" I ask incredulously.

"Not with magic," he allows, "but how are you with a blade?"

I'm decent with knives and have sparred with swords before, but only in a casual setting with my adoptive siblings, and certainly not enough to hold my own on a battlefield. He swipes the answer written on my face with an arrogant smile.

"Your law says I should be killed because my magic is too powerful, and you're concerned I don't know how to wield a piece of metal?"

He inches a half step closer to me, shrinking the already too close distance between us. "The first rule of combat—physical or otherwise—" his arm cuts the air, and before I can track the movement, the unmistakable chill of metal grazes the underside of my chin. His dagger flirts with the delicate skin of my throat—the knife he pulled from somewhere hidden in those fighting leathers, "is to never rely on one weapon. Even magic," he murmurs, his voice a velvet whisper in the room.

I don't jerk away. I remain a statue as my body internally ignites with the surge of my collective, ready to weaponize myself at a moment's notice. The Black Art's lips part in a rapacious smile, his tongue gliding over the fronts of his top set of teeth, and he lowers his blade, returning it to its hidden holster with the same swiftness he had drawn it. I don't need to imagine the damage he could do with the sword that still hangs at his waist.

"You make your point," I spit.

He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, sending the layers falling down his back, his mood seemingly lighter now.

"But I'm confused. Why are you so willing to let me fight with you? You're not worried at all I'll try to turn on you the moment they bring her here?"

"You underestimate me," he says, smoldering heat still simmering in his eyes.

"No. I think you underestimate me."

River had said Sin lacked confidence, that he could stand to learn some things from me, but I think it is precisely his overbearing arrogant attitude that has him dismissing the threat I pose so easily.

He shakes his head. "You're wrong. I have thought a great deal of things about you, but dismissing your power has not been one of them. But if you were going to try to kill me, you would have done it already."

"I could say the same about you," I challenge. "I didn't know Legion was holding my sister captive before. How do you know that hasn't changed things for me?"

"You just gave me an unbeatable weapon to use against them. Perhaps that has changed things for me," he suggests with a smirk as wicked as it is devastating.

I command my body to move again, but pause at the door before leaving. I study his face as I sift through his collective with my own, feeling his immense pride and amusement blossoming in my gut. Amused that I have now willingly pledged to fight alongside him, ensuring a victory for the kingdom I loathe.

Bastard.

His mouth widens into a tight-lipped grin as if he plucks the thought right from my head.

"I don't trust you," I contend, mainly to try to snatch that smile straight from his lips. But it only widens farther, and a new trail of fear slithers around my bones when he answers.

"Good. Because you really, really shouldn't."