Page 132 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

Destry’s face falls. “Oh no. No, no, no … my friend.” Her head shakes back and forth. Concern shines in her glazed eyes. “That is not a throne she wishes to claim.”

36

Annika

When I stir, it’s still nighttime. I sense the dark shadow hovering a split second before a hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my scream.

“Shhh. Annika, it’s me.”

I still at that voice. Tyree?

He leans down to whisper in my ear, “I am going to take my hand away, but be quiet. You do not want to alert the guards.” His breath skates over my skin, sending shivers through me. “Promise you will remain quiet.”

Not until I nod does he move his hand, but he remains close, his face inches away.

“What are you doing back?” I inhale. “And why do you stink of ale?”

“A mortal I met in the tavern spilled it on me. She was a tad inebriated.”

I snort. Her. Of course. The fool runs from here and straight to a brothel.

“Annika, listen to me. This King Hadkiel is not what you think he is, and this throne is not what you are expecting.”

“How do you know this?”

“From a reliable source. Well … reliable enough. It is a long story. For now, I need you to trust me.”

“Are you kidding?” I scoff. “You know I will not. And I am not going anywhere with you.”

“You must!” His breath hitches, and he lowers his voice. “You must.” There is urgency in his tone.

“Why? So you can use me as a bartering chip to find passage on a ship again?” Knowing Tyree, that’s what this is about, and he has to convince me to go willingly because there is no way he’ll be able to carry me out. “I have not screamed yet, but that does not mean I won’t.”

“And I promise, you will regret doing so for every moment of every day for as long as you breathe.”

The sudden ominous tone in his voice gives me pause. This isn’t one of his thinly veiled threats. He’s genuinely afraid of something. “I demand to know what is going on.”

He sighs heavily. “How did I know you would be a stubborn mule about this? Fine, Annika. I will show you what it means to be the kal’ana. Come. And put on your slippers.”

Curious, I slide my feet into the soft shoes by the bed and follow him as he tiptoes toward the window, narrowly avoiding a side table in the darkness.

“You think I am climbing down your moss ladder?” When I discovered how Tyree escaped, I will admit, I was impressed.

“Why not? It’s sturdy enough.”

“Until it’s not.” The chill raises gooseflesh on my bare arms.

“Here, take my cloak. They’ve left you nothing to change into and that nightgown will glow in the dark.” He slips the heavy wool over my shoulders before affixing the clasp with gentle fingers that graze my collarbone.

“How far down is it?”

“Far. But first we go up.” Without asking, he grabs my arm and leads me over the ledge, guiding my hands to sink into the soft plant.

My pulse races with apprehension. “How did you build this?”

“Easily. There is more moss on this stone wall than I have ever encountered in all my life.” He fits himself behind me, his feet one rung down, his arms caging me in, his body pressed against mine.

I do my best to ignore it. “But how do you keep it together?” Anything I weave with vines falls apart the moment I’m distracted. Having him so close to me would definitely land in the category of distraction. Meanwhile, he left and came back and his ladder remains.

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