Page 120 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

The door to my chamber flies open and two royal guards step in. “Come now,” the one on the left barks.

“Or what?” I stand and hold out my hands in challenge. They were both at the gate earlier. They’ve seen what I’m capable of.

A gentle hand lands on my biceps. “Please.” Ilyth nods toward the door. “No trouble.”

But it’s not her soft voice that goads me forward. It’s the irritating one in the hallway.

33

Annika

“I demand to know where you are taking me. And stop manhandling me. Do you have any idea who I am?” I jerk my arm out of the guard’s grip, doing my best to squash any hint of fear. Of course, he doesn’t know who I am. None of them do, nor do they seem to care.

“Glad to see a bath hasn’t washed away your swollen ego.”

I spin to find Tyree standing in the doorway. A sigh of relief escapes me before I can stifle it. I knew he was in the next room over, but I didn’t know when I would see him again. Despite my better judgment, I feel safer when he is around.

“You clean up well.” His gaze drags over the lavish red and gold gown the servants presented after I climbed from the bath, adored by rhinestones and billowing to the floor in a cascade of luxurious layers.

“And you are clean.” He’s more than that, I admit silently. They’ve dressed him in basic but decent clothes. His black hair sweeps back in a wave, showing off his crystal blue eyes. I suppose they don’t trust him with a blade because his carved jaw is coated in scruff that I find more appealing than I should.

He smirks as if he can read my inner thoughts, and my palm itches with the urge to slap that look off his face.

A slight and pretty servant slips out from Tyree’s room.

“I hope you will return later, Ilyth? I am sure I will have needs for you to tend to.” He winks.

“I … Yes.” She curtsies, her cheeks flushing furiously as she darts past us.

“That way.” The guards gesture in the opposite direction, giving Tyree’s shoulder a little push.

“Really? After all we’ve been through, that is what you have on your mind?” I hiss.

“That is what is usually on my mind. And given I was held prisoner for weeks, by both of your brothers, I’d say I’m due.”

I harrumph. My servants didn’t speak a word to me. Meanwhile, he has her name and everything.

“What’s wrong?” Tyree falls into step beside me. “Jealous?”

“Oh yes. Very much so.” I roll my eyes.

“Honestly, though, you look ravishing.” He slips a hand around my waist and leans in.

I stiffen as his plump lips graze my earlobe with a soft kiss.

“Let me do the talking,” he whispers quickly before pulling away. The kiss was clearly a cover to pass along that message and yet his hand remains in place, its warmth bringing me comfort—an unsettling reality.

“Why? So you can give them a reason to execute us?” I throw back, not caring if the guards hear—and understand—me.

Tyree merely chuckles in response, squeezing my side. What game is he playing now?

I fight the urge to shove him away as the guards lead us down a web of gilded hallways and stairs, the air thick with the smoky lemon-pine scent of olibanum.

Finally, we reach a grand hall. Tyree and I tip our heads in unison to take in the extraordinary mural that forms the ceiling above—an artistic jumble of every manner of creature, both mortal and winged, some I have never laid eyes on before.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Tyree murmurs in awe.

I shake my head, unsure where to settle my concentration.

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