Page 76 of Creatures that Breathe

She’s a princess. Running to escape her duties. Suddenly, I understand her all too well. The evasiveness, the desperation, the choice of me. Why I felt so protective of her, why I knew I could never hurt her.

A princess. My fated is not just engaged, she’s a princess.

Leni was right. The Gods have found a truly devious way to torture me. Dangling the ripest fruit within reach and lacquering it with poison.

Rune passes Atlas a tablet, his light eyes cast at the ceiling, cheeks and throat ruddy. Uncomfortable.

If my head wasn’t spinning, I’d peel myself off Leni, throw a sheet on her, and grab some pants.

No. I’d kick them both out, and command Rune to forget what he saw. Tell him to destroy any evidence of Leni’s royalty.

A princess is all I can think. I want it to be wrong so badly; it terrifies me.

Fear rises up in my stomach and scatters tremors across my arms.

“I scraped an image off one of the cells Lev gathered,” Rune explains, scratching the collar of his polo.

For as uncomfortable our tech expert is, Atlas is at home. His gun hangs off his thumb like a missing shoestring. His eyes don’t dart or leer. He stares, cold and unfeeling, into me, drilling his disappointment.

“There’s a generous bounty for the safe and prompt return of Princess Eleni Amiacea,” he says. “Consort of Prince Draven of Queen Vinia’s line, sixth born and honored lieutenant.”

Draven, son of Vinia, stepson of Kadmos. I’d forgotten the name, dismissed it. None of the queen’s children appreciated Kadmos’s vision. And still, he arranged marriages for all of them as soon as they became his family.

Gifts.

Leni is one of Kadmos’s gifts.

She’s still naked beneath me, warm and sweet, flushed pink. The flavor of her lingers on my taste buds while I stare at the female on Rune’s screen, standing alone in an apple orchard.

White gown, flat lips, sad frosted gaze, with hair whiter than snow and pin straight down to her waist. It doesn’t look anything like her, but I know in my bones it can’t be anyone else.

Clarity billows through my mind, connecting wayward thoughts. Leni’s family sold her to the king. “You’re married,” I breathe.

Leni clutches at my forearms, blue eyes wide with panic. “I’m not. Cross. I’m not … I’m not even a princess.”

“We need to go,” Atlas cuts through her noise. “Wheels up in fifteen. Cars in eight. The house is burned. Meda’s slipped notice to her contact in the Queensguard. We’ll leave the princess here for their collection.” His glare skips past me to nail Leni. “Get her clothed and tie her up.”

“Don’t!” Leni begs. Tears clog the corners of her eyes, and I barely register her soft hands sliding across me, trying to dig in.

She’s one of Kadmos’s arranged marriages, not his blood. Not actual royalty.

Which means … there’s nothing protecting her. There’s no royal blood. My vow to safeguard the king’s line is moot.

My heart beat is slow, sickly, and my muscles are made of sand. I shut my eyes against her tears and fight to steady my voice for Atlas. “Understood. Rendezvous in eight. What’s left gets left.”

A strategic necessity. Leaving no leads, no information.

I rise to my feet, aware that I’m still entirely hard, harder than I’ve ever been, aware that Atlas hasn’t lowered his gun, aware that this room—this entire house — has never meant anything to me and now I loathe to leave it.

The bathroom where Leni smiled up at me, the table where we shared breakfast, the bed she spread out on.

I check the gun in my holster, breathing too slowly, head trapped in a fog.

“You good?”

It’s a command from Atlas. I nod, tearing on some pants. “Good,” I croak.

Leni’s got sheets wrapped around her, tears stuck to her cheeks, but her eyes are clear, almost vicious.

---