Page 22 of A Petal in the Crown

"Make no mistake," Gray said. "If my mate had been unable to return to me, your life would be over. But as she is here, I will be merciful. Vincent, take him away and decide his punishment. Whatever you see fit."

Alex scrambled to his feet as Vincent approached, sobbing in relief.

"Let this be a lesson," Gray said, handing the sword back to Lea, who swiftly returned the weapon to its sheath, in control once again. "We cannot afford to make mistakes. We cannot afford errors of judgment.Alaric will not be deterred. He will not give up until either he is dead, orweare. Another mistake like this, and it could be the end of everything we've been fighting for."

"Another mistake like this," Lea said, turning and storming from the room, "and I bring the sword down."

Chapter 13

Lea

Lea’s stomach rolled and her heart raced, her shadows bursting from her skin as she stormed from the massive chamber and down the hallway back to her room. She had almost killed him. Had been seconds away, maybe less, from bringing down her sword and severing the terrified boy's head from his body.

The thought made her want to vomit. She didn’t enjoy killing. Didn’t relish ending a life, whether deserved or not.

But her dark magic? It had begged her to do it—almostforcedher to do it. The voice in her head had clouded her mind.Destroy, it had urged with each beat of her heart.

Destroy.

Destroy.

Destroy.

And oh, how she had wanted to. Except, somewhere deep inside her, shehadn'twanted to.

Not when the sword had remained cold in her hand. Not when she realized he was just a boy who’d made a terrible mistake out of fear. It hadn't been malicious. He hadn't been a traitor.

Kill him,her primary magic begged in her mind.He is the reason your bond is gone. He is the reason you made the bargain with the goddess. Kill Alaric or be separated from Gray, even after death.

Kill him.

Kill him.

Kill him.

Her magic had flooded from her chest and into her fingers, pushing her arm down with a desperate strength as she fought against it. It’d taken every bit of control she had to fight against what that dark power begged her to do.

Thisis exactly what she’d been afraid of, the reason that she’d sent Gray back instead of herself. And after what had just happened, Lea was more afraid than ever that she would succumb to the darkness. Had Gray not recognized her plea, had he not seen what was happening to her, she would've done it, unable to fight against that wicked power any longer.

“Lea,” Gray called from behind her, but she didn't stop. He would catch up with her, but she needed to get to their room. Somewhere with a door between her and the rest of the army. “Lea!” he said again, finally reaching her side and stopping her with a hand on her arm.

She pulled away. “Not now. Please,” she said, nodding down the hallway. She couldn't talk. Not here, where anyone could hear or see her. She was barely holding in her emotions, and knew that the moment she admitted out loud what she had almost done, how close she had actually come to killing that boy, she would lose the fight and her tears would come. She refused to fall apart anywhere other than the privacy of their room.

Seeming to understand, Gray took her hand and walked with her in silence until they reached the door. The moment it closed, Lea fell apart. Sobs wracked her body as she fought for breath, her chest tightening with panic.

Gray gathered her in his arms, carrying her to sit on the bed.

“It's okay,” he said, rubbing his hand along her hair.

“It's not,” Lea wiped at her tears. “I almost killed him. Iwantedto kill him.”

“But you didn't. And even if you’d tried, you were safe. I wouldn't have let you,” he said. “I was ready.”

Lea swallowed, desperately wanting to make the tears stop. But she hadn't cried yet. Not when the god and goddess had refused to let them both return, and not as she sat with her mother, the wind blowing across town from the top of the hill. She hadn't cried when she’d returned from the dead. Hadn't mourned the loss of their mate bond, or the death of who she used to be. At first she’d been too terrified, then too furious, her emotions too big and intense to allow her to feel anything other than fury.

But that one moment of control, of stopping herself from killing the boy, it was as if it had put her back in her own body, just a bit.

“I’m not who I used to be. I’m not the queen they all vowed to serve and protect. Not anymore,” she admitted.

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