Page 62 of Heir to His Court

Inscrutable black eyes studied me. A hardness to his expressionless face, war-like readiness in how he gripped his blade as if it were an extension of his arm.

I stared, riveted as scaled black armor edged in gold flowed over his shoulders, around his chest, eating the silken robes until the warrior standing in front of me was the male I had seen in my nightmares when the Prince first woke. His hair settled down his back, braided on the sides and bound in gold, oddly similar to mine. His eyes were rimmed in kohl, and only a thin ring of blue surrounded slitted pupils.

He stepped toward me, looking down from his greater height. “Lasil al’chya imlash anye, Darkan. Naqqa ekil asfaa anyeqima, Kuthliele-nas?”Darkan can not save you. Are you worthy of a clean death, Kuthliele’s get?

He spoke, deep and guttural, abandoning the airy syllables of Everennesse for Ninephe’s liquid, roiling intonation.

I answered in the same language. “I will accept your judgment.”

The slitted pupils contracted. “Was this Kuthliele’s game all along?”

“You honor me, General Threnvanne Sanyelle, if you believe I, alone and fallible, am the arm of Psion’s fallen temple. I am capable of assassination—but High Lord Embriel? His death was. . .a result of opportunity and temper. I am sorry.” I looked past the General of Ninephe’s eyes, into Darkan’s, mentally trying to draw him to the forefront, but Raniel would do at this point. “You already know I’ve regretted it. Youknow.”

A phantom hand wrapped around my throat and yanked me against his chest. His armor cut my skin, then absorbed the blood.

“Was it opportunity and temper? I trained you. I know what you are. I know what you promised.”

“Raniel trained me.”

His darkened eyes expressed disdain. “I am Raniel Threnvanne Sanyelle. Son of Assariel Temthrennes and Nayya Gravvanne.”

“You are not—“

“The broken Avallonnian lordling you think you know is barely a shadow of me. When I am awake, Kuthliele, you will deal with me.”

There was no softness in him, none of the edged or impatient indulgence of the others. He expected obedience. He would get it.

“As you say, General.”

I tried to step back, but his hand on my arm tightened.Thenhe released me, only to briefly caress the skin of my neck.

“I didn’t intend Embry’s death.” Anger heated my words for a moment and I glared at him. “He should have known better than to approach me! Did you never tell him I was dangerous? Do you know that until the very moment he closed his eyes, he thought me a child? A child, Threnvanne Sanyelle! Embry was afool.He died because I was expecting him to defend himself and he didn’t!”

The words rang out; I hadn’t bothered to mute them. The General’s expression remained flat. “He was no warrior.”

I compressed my lips, struggling to remember that my bonded was grieving. “I know. What do you want from me?” I laughed. “That’s the same question Renaud asked me about Muriel.”

His lip curled up. “You think I should forgo vengeance for my son.”

“No. I don’t think it. I don’t expect it.” I lowered my head, the momentary fire of my fury gone. “Do what you will, General.”

“Death,” he said, “is too easy.”

I should have leaned my neck into that blade and gotten it over with.

His lips were against my ear and I shivered, inhaling his scent, closing my eyes in refuge against the silk of his hair, the deep blue sheen and it’s haunting note of forest by ocean.

“You will not die today,” the General said, his gaze speculative. “I do not offer traitors easy deaths, but I have not yet decided if you betrayed me. You took no oath, an oversight, and you are neither consort nor wife. It is a unique dilemma.”

Fire scored my neck where he had touched me moments before. I staggered back, hands clawing at my skin. It wasn’t the Vow. Under my fingers metal formed, a collar with no seams. He watched, unmoving and unmoved as it burned me.

“Until I release you to death, Kuthliele,” he said, “you will wear my brand. You will be known as my—”

I snarled at him. If he said the word I would damn myself and attack. For the first time, he smiled. Hard, thin, lacking amusement, but holding acknowledgement.

“As mine.” He paused. “Interesting. You are strong enough to wear it. It would have killed you were you not and saved me some trouble.”

I almost gaped at that casual comment, but Threnvanne Sanyelle grabbed my arm and dragged me down the steps and out of the hall to where the Court waited in silence.

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