Page 136 of Heir of Illusion

The idea of spending the night with Thorne is far more tempting than it should be. I open the cabinet that houses my sleepwear and find myself selecting a wine-colored nightgown. The thin material is practically sheer, hiding little of my body underneath. My palms sweat as I stare at the result in the mirror, searching for the boldness that usually comes naturally to me.

Forcing my feet toward the door, I crack it open slightly and peek through the gap. Thorne stands with his back to me, and my mouth falls open at the sight of so much bare skin. His shirt lies discarded on the nearby chair, but his pants remain on, hanging low from his hips. My eyes are immediately drawn to the dark ink splayed across his shoulder blades, the lines forming the shape of wings. My eyebrows shoot up as I realize this is where he hides them when they aren’t being used.

My heart cracks as I notice the slightly raised scars that linger around the top of the tattoos. It takes a lot to leave a mark on an immortal. Hatred boils within my veins, heating my skin as I think about how I’d punish the men who did this to him. They’d beg for death before I was through with them.

The savagery raging inside of me cools slightly as I notice the hunched set to his shoulders as he stares at my bed. He almost appears unsure of himself. Insecure…

Sleeping next to someone is something he’s probably never had the opportunity to do. It would be too dangerous since his skin could accidentally brush against theirs. The idea of him lying in bed next to some hypothetical person has my face scrunching up with a mix of jealousy and disgust. Gods, I need to get a hold of my emotions tonight…

He turns at the sound of my approach, his brows shooting up as his gaze crawls over my body, lingering in all the most interesting places. My cheeks turn pink as my nightgown has its intended effect.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes.

His words make me strangely shy. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man who hands out compliments like that often, so receiving them from him feels important. Special.

And that makes me so deeply nervous. The last time I believed someone thought I was special, I was wrong. And I wasn’t the only one who paid the price for my poor judgment.

I lock those worries behind the bars of my mental prison. Scurrying over to the other side of the bed, I climb in and pull the blankets up to my chin. After a few moments, he follows my lead and slips into the other side. Several minutes pass as we both remain silent, neither of us touching each other as we stare up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I summon the courage to ask the question that has been weighing heavily on my mind all week.

“Why did you ask for my freedom?”

The bed shifts as he tenses next to me.

“I’m not trying to argue,” I clarify quickly. “I genuinely want to know why you choose that when you could have asked Baylor for anything.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before he responds, his voice brimming with soft sincerity. “Because I wish someone had stepped in to help my mother.”

The simple answer makes my heart ache for him. The guilt he still carries over what happened to her is palpable.

“What was she like?” I ask quietly, unsure if this is a subject he feels comfortable discussing.

He remains silent, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer me, but then he takes a deep breath and speaks.

“When she was herself, she was warm. Funny.” I can hear the smile in his voice, but it fades with his next words. “But once theenchanterstarted giving her his potions, she changed. She became prone to these sudden changes in mood. She’d swing from one emotion to the next, unable to calm herself down. It was like that for a long time before everything finally ended.”

“What happened to theenchanterafter you got away?” I ask.

“He serves the God of Life now.”

“Leland?” I gasp, rolling over to face him as I recall the adviser who accompanied Foley to the ball. “It was him?”

He nods, his jaw tight. “He’s worked in many courts over the years, but right now, he serves Eyrkan.”

I wonder if the God of Life knows the history of the man he’s employing. Perhaps that’s where the tension between Foley and Thorne stems from?

We fall silent in the wake of the tense conversation, both of us lost in our thoughts. I roll onto my back again as my mind returns to what I learned from Maebyn. Does Thorne know who Baylor is going to ask him to kill?

“Can I ask you a hypothetical question?”

“Alright.”

I take a deep breath. “What would someone gain from killing a God?”

He turns his head on the pillow, raising a brow at me. “Should I be nervous about this line of questioning?”

I roll my eyes. “Hypothetical, remember?”

“Of course.” He grins as he rolls onto his side. “Hypothetically…I’m guessing this person already has the means with which to kill said God?”

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