Page 83 of Court of Treachery

Saradon turned to her, his eyes narrowed, before turning back to his prisoner. “Yes,Aedon, don’t goad me. You have no idea who you deal with.” His voice took on a dark tone, crackling like dark fire and lightning. Shivers crawled across Harper’s skin as she realised the voice was not his own. From Erendriel’s warning, she had an inkling whom the voice truly belonged to, but she dared not think what that meant.

Aedon ignored him, glaring at Harper with open worry. “Are you all right? Has he hurt you?”

She shook her head, not daring to speak again. His brows creased as he stared at her. She guessed what he wished to say.Run. Flee.And how impossible that was for both of them. Saradon stood between them, cutting off her view of him. “She is mine now, elf.”

“She will never be yours, half-breed. Let her go. She is nobody and nothing to you in this fight.”

“You know as well as I that is not true, elf, don’t you?” She heard the dark smile upon Saradon’s voice, which added to her heightened anxiety. “You know she is my true heir, and the machinations of fate have returned her to my side at the most opportune moment.”

“You will never control her,” Aedon spat.

Saradon only laughed and turned to Harper with a cruel smile. “Oh, elf. You have no idea indeed. She bound herself to me,” he said gleefully. “Willingly.” He savoured every syllable, circling the fallen elf, whose limbs trembled from exhaustion.

“That’s not true.”

“I will show you, if you do not believe me. I will enjoy seeing your reaction.”

“You lie.”

“I will prove it.”

Saradon snapped his fingers. His will tugged Harper from her throne, forcing her to stand rigidly, and glide down the stepsto Dimitri. To her horror, and his surprise, she slid into his lap with feline grace. Her muscles strained in resistance, but her body moved of its own accord with no hesitation. Did Saradon know what they had just done? Or did he just taunt them with the complete control he had over the pair of them?

She sank into Dimitri’s lap and leaned against his chest. She heard his breath catch, but instinctively, Dimitri’s arms slid around her, cradling her waist and holding her legs so she did not fall off. The touch was light, formal, as though he only endured it, like she. But she felt the reassuring squeeze on her waist, light and gone in an instance.

It feltwrong. So wrong, this forced contact, a violation of the willing intimacy they had just shared, and the connection growing between them. This was a mockery of that, one that made nausea swim in her belly and revulsion crawl under her skin with every touch.

Harper met Aedon’s gaze with hers, imploring him to understand her foolishness. That she had not given herself to his cause willingly, like he suggested, but had sacrificed her freedom to save their friends, however misguidedly. But Aedon could not hear her thoughts behind the impenetrable barrier he had constructed around his own mind to stave off Saradon’s attacks.

Saradon was not done. At his command, she tilted her head back and leaned it onto Dimitri’s shoulder. At his next unspoken bidding, Dimitri dipped his head to kiss her neck. Her skin shivered at the touch of his soft lips upon her, but this did not spark desire, knowing how his lips could undo her. This ignited revulsion and fear at the control Saradon had over them both. It was an abhorrence that could not have been more opposite to the intimacy they had begun to share.

“Stop it,” Aedon growled. “You know she does not wish for that. Get the bastard away from her,now.” Harper felt Dimitri stiffen underneath her at that, and her heart caved in for him.But Aedon’s command held no weight. Saradon knew it as well as he, as well as them all.

Harper’s hands slid around Dimitri’s neck. One idly toyed with the hair at his nape, while the other cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to hers. Tears of fury and shame slipped from her eyes as Dimitri met her gaze and kissed her. Her core shrank away, her whole body wanting to close with this violation, and his eyes burned with the same feeling of helpless rage and shame. This was nothing intimate. A press of one set of lips against another. Nothing more. Just what they needed to do to act the part—and survive.

She knew he had to appear neutral, impassive, but his eyes, still locked with hers, filled with an intensity she could not translate. She wished she could understand what it was he thought and felt, what he was trying to tell her, but their mental communication had been severed by Saradon’s control, and she knew he would not dare reach out to her then. His body was stiff against her, softening for only a moment into her lips—perhaps the only solidarity he could offer her—before he pulled away. He resumed staring into the distance, as though nothing had happened—but unseen by Saradon, his thumb stroked the small of her back in silent reassurance.

At last, Saradon’s leash retreated, and Harper slid from Dimitri’s lap. She threw herself away from him with all the force she could muster, snapping free of Saradon’s command for a moment, catching him by surprise. She tumbled to the hard stone and landed on her hands and knees with a crash that winded her, her body jarring from the impact. Dimitri leapt to her aid, helping her to her feet. His iron grip on her wrists was an unspoken warning not to be so foolish before he let her go and retreated a pace to stand behind her.

“I hope you feel ashamed of yourself, bastard,” Aedon cursed at him. “Do you feel good taking advantage like that?”

Dimitri gazed at him impassively.

Aedon spat onto the floor, a red globule of blood.

“If you are so willing to help me, daughter,” Saradon crooned, “join me. I insist.”

Harper walked toward him, rebelling against every step he made her take, until she stood before him. His finger lifted her chin so that she met his gaze—her stony rebellion against his cold ire.

He leaned close, so only she could hear, his hot breath fanning against her cheek. “If you decide to be so foolish again, I will only punish you all the more.”

He pressed his knife into her hand, the blade a cruel and dark river of black steel. He stepped back. To her horror, she brought it to her own throat, tracing her skin with the cold edge of the blade, teasing it with the sharp point until he forced her to dig a little too deeply and pierce the skin. A droplet of blood ran down her neck, warm and prickling. She stood frozen, no longer rebelling against him. Her eyes met Aedon’s, whose face mirrored her own horror. She saw the same terror within him. Harper did not dare move, lest that blade slip and cut her own throat. Her hand trembled.

71

HARPER

Saradon laughed and cast his attention to Aedon. “As you see, she will do as I bid. She will act how I instruct her, even if I command her to take her own life.” He grinned at Dimitri, who smiled, a thin-lipped grimace that did not reach his eyes. The best he could attempt at sycophancy. Dimitri’s attention did not leave Harper’s—but she could not read beneath the stern mask he wore.

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