Page 76 of Blood On His Lips

Sweat gathered between my breasts, under my arms. Icepicks attacked my temples but I rebuilt the mental barrier. He drew back, circled, attacked. Again and again, pulling it down as fast as I could erect it.

This was. . .this was hopeless. If I couldn't protect my own mind from the Prince then how could I protect anyone else?

That is the question, isn’t it? How indeed.

Realms, if I'd thought Darkan insufferable before, now he was even worse. Unleashed, the gloves off, no more pretense or restraint.

I approached Faronne house and paused long enough to gather my wits. Then entered the empty courtyard and stepped inside as the doors opened.

ChapterTwenty-Three

Dizziness,a wrenching as if my body had been displaced in time and space. I stumbled and landed painfully on my knees, then looked up.

This was not my house.

The Prince sat on his throne, but the shape of this hall wasn't quite the same as the white palace of Everenne. It was still cold, black and white marble and lofty colonnades, but this wasn't Everenne. Instantly I was on my guard.

I wouldn’t rise without permission. Especially under the regard of those cold, cold eyes.

He sat on the throne, as still and upright as any statue, clad in black leather and silver silk, a silver and sapphire circlet crowning his head. His hair shimmered with cobalt fire in the ambient light, trailing down his shoulders.

How had he transported me? Not even an Old One should have had this power. Clammy sweat dampened my spine, but I knew better than to let the fear scent waft off my skin. It would mark me as prey.

I was not prey.

“You begin to understand,” he said, using his gentle executioner’s voice.

I shuddered, his deep, dark, power running through me.

“Rise.”

I stood, keeping my gaze on his face. “I would like to see Lord Étienne.”

His fingertips caressed the arm of his throne. “In time. First I’m of a mind to play with you.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because it’s fun, Rinne.”

There was something incongruous, mocking, about his use of my familial nickname.

“If it pleases you, Prince.”

Stalling for time was still my purpose, just the tertiary one. I needed him to confirm my suspicions about the oncoming threat. I needed him to cooperate with me in eliminating it—and for all of that, we needed to come to an understanding.

Which meant I would stand by his side for the time being. If that was submission, so be it. The city was more important than my hurt and fury.

“So polite.” Now his mockery was open, cutting. Displeased.

I lowered my head. “I would like my father to survive this. I would like to survive this.”

“Hmm. Your survival of me is not in doubt at this time.”

“You said there’s a threat.” I spoke softly. “I wasn’t listening before, but I am now. I no longer wish to work against you. Do you really want to play when we should be planning the defense of the city?”

“Yes. I really want to play. The way you played with me the other night.”

Of course that was coming back to bite me in the ass. “I’m baffled by the order of your priorities.”

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