Page 54 of Petals for Deadly Power

Snow Child

Thefamiliarsensationoffear choked the snow child like the divinity who often claimed his mind choked his dreams—hisnightmares.

He was used to her, for she was the embodiment of fear. At least now, his consolation was knowing he would wake up when the sun appeared. At least now, his mind was not her prisoner, even if his sleep was.

Her black eyes shone as bright as the crown abandoned in the room. “Come closer,” she ordered.

His legs moved as they always did—against his will. He had learned not to fight her magic, so he didn’t anymore. Even if the red crystal shackles restrained her naked body to the stone, he wasn’t strong enough to fight her.

He was powerless. He was no one.

“I know you are with her,” she said, stroking his chin with a nail that opened his skin. “Not here, but there.”

Her pale face was impenetrable, his gaze unfocused as he tried not to flinch.

“Tell me, offspring of snow. Tell me what she’s like.”

He felt the impulse to talk.Shewould make him talk—she always did—but the choice of his words was his.

“Who?” the snow child asked.

“The only one that matters. The one with magic the color of my kin. The one they tried to protect, and the one they will fail to save.”

“She’s patient and brave,” he said. “How much longer will you make her wait?”

The loud laugh of the Cardinal Queen shook the black liquid pooled around them. The liquid was her blood.

“Each of the five spiteful, red-winged ones cursed me with half a century of captivity.I’vebeen patient—for over two centuries.” Her nostrils flared, her blood-red lips curling as her grip on his chin tightened. “The days are ticking, my curse almost lifting. Patient she is, and patient she will be, for when I come, her end will come with me.”

When the snow child woke up, the memory of his nightmare was erased. His nose bled once again, and another black streak painted his hair.

34

Ciaran

Hopebreathedindeeplyas the sun started peaking on the horizon.

They had spent hours side-by-side under the red moonlight, their legs hanging from the edge of the platform at the peak of the navia. Between softly spoken words and peaceful silence, between greeted occasional friction between their hands or legs. And now, the always-returning night was leaving them.

Ciaran felt the whisper approaching, the masculine voice no courtrade knew if it belonged to the darkness or to Llunal himself, speaking softly into his ear.

Protect her.

His eyes jumped to Hope.

Here she was, smiling peacefully at the rising sun.

At some point, Hope had let her braids loose and now strands of black hair moved gently around her beautiful face with the breeze. Her accompanying blades, always present like external appendages of her body, rested on the floor behind them, the biggest proof this woman fully trusted him. Her black eyes were focused, glistening as she didn’t take her gaze away from the growing light. Her lips . . . her lips were pink, full, painfully perfect.

He would sell his soul to the Cardinals for a kiss from those lips, for a kiss fromher, but the goddesses didn’t care about what a soul truly craved.

Her chest rose as she breathed deeply, welcoming the sunrise, and Ciaran . . . Ciaran did something precious, something he was allowed—he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply until Hope’s sea breeze and sunshine scent filled him like nothing else did. Like nothing else ever would.

He was allowed that small pleasure alone, nowhere as satisfying as the list of fantasies he had, and the merciless Cardinals were the only ones to blame for that.

Protect her at all costs.

He heard the whisper again, and he didn’t miss the tinge of urgency in the words. Adrenaline constricted his veins, his arm reaching to grab Hope’s—but it was too late.

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