Page 67 of Of Wind and Terror

He grunts something noncommittally, choosing not to respond to the accusation in Cayetana’s question.

“Can I trust you to take care of Kassandra?” Cayetana asks suddenly, and the abrupt change in topic gives me whiplash.

I expect Blaze to be offended or to growl at her and threaten bodily harm. Instead, he nods seriously, his expression grave, his eyes as hard as granite.

“With my life,” he vows.

That answer seems to appease Cayetana, who relaxes marginally.

“Good.” She nods stiffly and then turns towards me, but I can’t pull my gaze away from Blaze.

I beg the oxygen in the room to fill my glass-coated lungs.

A weight eases from my shoulders and slides down my arms, almost as if I’m removing a cloak. Hearing the sincerity in Blaze’s statement…

It comforts me.

Fills me with an emotion that feels an awful lot like adoration.

Slowly and surely, these males are taking hammers to the walls I’ve built around my heart and are systemically smashing them down. I shouldn’t care about them the way I do. They’re demented, cruel, and downright savage.

And yet…

My breath quickens the longer I stare at him, and Blaze wets his lips with a sound of regret. He forces his eyes away from me, focusing on nothing in particular.

“You have a few orbits left before we should head out,” he tells me, his tone raspier than normal. Husky, almost. “Cayetana, before you leave, would you mind walking Kassandra through a few drills? I want her to brush up on her harbara training before we leave.”

Cayetana blinks after his retreating back in surprise. “A crowned prince? Asking me for help?” She turns towards me, her eyebrows dancing up to disappear into her hairline. “Just what is this world coming to?”

I don’t have an answer to that.

I just pray that it’ll be better than what it currently is.

25

CALAN

Idream of dead things.

My older brother, Moran.

Brown, brittle grass just before the first snowfall of the season.

Naked tree branches swaying in the wind.

Plots of freshly shoveled graves.

Desecrated gray stones with dates etched across the surface.

And when I wake up, it’s with a hammering heart and Kassandra’s name a desperate plea on my lips.

But I don’t ever speak it. Not out loud. Saying her name will give the others power over me, which I can’t allow to happen.

She’s my one weakness, a fact I abhor with every fiber of my being. Does the tiny female understand the power she holds over me? Is she able to comprehend the lengths I will go to ensure she’s safe? I may not want her as my mate, but Gaia help me, I’m stuck with her regardless.

I always protect what’s mine.

“You were mumbling in your sleep again.” Draven—the real Draven, not the imposter—releases a humorless chuckle from the cell beside mine. “Nightmares?”

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