Page 123 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

With a frown, I return my attention to the mirror. I would prefer a royal chamber, but otherwise, King Hadkiel hasn’t spared expense. The gown tonight was immaculate. The nightgown I wear now is made from the softest spun material my fingertips have ever grazed, the scooped neckline trimmed in a delicate fine lace.

Unscrewing the jar the servants left on the dressing table, I smooth the night cream over my cheeks, hoping it might erase evidence of my recent trials so I may be ready for my “presentation” tomorrow to these people I am to rule. The scent is pleasant—of rose petals and lavender.

It reminds me of the royal garden at night. Thoughts of that stir a twinge of longing. I doubt I’ll ever see Cirilea again, certainly not how I have always known it.

Is there anything left there for me?

A soft thump sounds behind me. “You’re right at home here.”

I jump at the sound of Tyree’s voice and fumble the glass jar. It slips from my grasp.

He dives to catch it a split second before it shatters on the ground. The move puts his face inches from my chest, his hand braced on my bare shoulder.

“How did you get in here?”

“Through the window, naturally. Lower your voice.” He pauses, his breath skating over my flesh. “Primping for the king?”

“Maybe. Jealous?”

He snorts.

“I thought you would be occupied with your servant by now. What was her name again?”

“I can’t recall. Get changed. We’re leaving.” He’s heading back to the window, his newly acquired gray cloak billowing out around him.

“For where?”

“Away from this fucking place. Don’t tell me those conjurers don’t make your skin crawl.” He leans out, assessing the plummeting fall below.

I will admit, they are unnerving with their soulless black eyes and prowling. “We have food and clothing and a bed. We’re safe here. Why would we leave? So we can end up dangling from a net again? Or maybe this time they throw us into that firepit. We can’t even speak the language outside these walls!”

“Trust me, there is something off about this place. I knew it as soon as they began spouting prophecy. And this shadow and light nonsense?” His handsome face screws up. “We will find our way back to the sea and sail to Kier. It is possible. Yidara herself told us.”

“For mortals, yes. Who is to say the sirens don’t bring us right back?”

“It is worth the risk. Speaking of what we are …” He marches back to settle his hands on the arms of my chair, caging me in. Piercing blue eyes study me. “What happened back there, at the gate? With the prisoners.”

I sigh. There is no point in keeping this from him anymore. “I don’t know.”

“Annika—”

“I don’t know! Really!” My eyes dart to the door, expecting the guards to burst in. I temper my voice. “The night of Hudem, my craving stopped.”

He falters. “That’s impossible.”

“And yet it is true.”

“So, you do not need blood to survive anymore,” he says slowly, as if processing this.

“It doesn’t seem so. I can still smell your Ybarisan blood, but I do not want it.”

“All Islorian immortals? Or just you?”

I shrug—the only answer I can give.

“What has happened to cause this?”

“I have no idea, Tyree.” I hold his assessing gaze, letting him see the truth in my words.

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