Page 55 of Of Song and Scepter
I struggle in his grip, every inch of my skin lighting up with the Voice. I push the light outward from my body, pressing against his restraint. He tightens his grip, pressing back. I clench my gut, bare my fangs. His eyes glow the same color as his magic, focused on me with bright green intensity. The pressure of his magic increases, pushing back my boundaries.
We lock gazes, two raging infernos.
Energy spirals out of my stomach at a steady rate, giving me a few minutes until it runs dry. I shift my arms within his restraint, grasping the hilt of the dagger strapped to my hip.
“One, seven,” he says, smiling.
I mirror his smile, letting him think he’s won. The moment the pressure of his magic wobbles, I unsheathe the knife and hurl it past his ear. The blade slices off a stray lock of his hair.
His magic releases completely, and I land on my feet, diving for the knife. He reaches for me, but I’m quicker, and within seconds, my blade presses flat to his ribs.
“Eight, zero.”
He groans. “Why can’t I best you?”
He bends to pick up the curl of his hair, weighing it in his hand while he pins me with a glare.
“Because you’re a royal playing with knives and magic. And I’m a…” I trail off, cursing myself for the near slip.
He frowns. “You’re a what?”
I shake my head, sheathing my knife. “I’m a wicked handmaid, late for her morning duties, Your Highness.”
“Stay,” he says, his voice rumbling with authority.
I bare my fangs.
“Please,” he says, reaching for me with a hesitant hand. I eye it, my heart pumping furiously the closer he draws. He cups my cheek gently, rubbing a soft thumb over my cheekbone. His hand is warm and soft, and I lean into it, closing my eyes.
“What are you?” he whispers, the echo of his question the day we met. “Just a handmaid? I think not, my lady, my wicked dancer.” His other hand comes up to cup my face, and he holds me in place. “Enna.”
My pulse quickens at the sound of my name on his lips. I try to pull away, but he maintains his hold.
“You have the Voice, and a strong one at that. You fight better than the Coral Captain. You sprout spines when you’re angry, and you have the face of a moon goddess.”
His thumb continues to trace the crest of my cheek. “Beautiful.”
I open my eyes to stare at him, finding his gaze burning with heat.
“I’m convinced you’re not a handmaid at all,” he says. My stomach flips over, twisting into a painful knot. “You’re some sort of Abyssal warrior in disguise.”
My mouth parts involuntarily as the rebuttal stirs my tongue, but I snap it shut just as fast. If I’m quiet, he can’t learn the full truth, or at least what’s left of it.
“I see I’ve hit the mark.” He smiles. “Are you here to kill me, then? Is this all some elaborate ruse?”
“No,” I say. Too quickly. This cannot be happening. We were so close, and I’ve just ruined everything. Today is the day everything crumbles, all thanks to a silly dream.
That damn dream lit me on fire, and I couldn’t contain it. I couldn’t control myself. And now, I’m ruining the assignment spectacularly.
“I don’t care what you are, Enna. I don’t care why you’re here.” He pulls at me, tugging me closer. “Those eyes,” he whispers, his breath warming my face. “They’ve haunted me since the moment we met.”
His fingers trail down my neck, my shoulders. Slowly. My scales rise in the wake of his touch.
“I shouldn’t want you. Everything about you screams off-limits.” He passes over my forearms, coaxing a slight lift of my spines. “I can’t have you. Tell me I can’t have you, Enna, and I’ll walk away.”
I will my heart to slow. I will my skin to extinguish the blaze that ignites repeatedly under his touch. My lips part, but the words stick in my throat.
His hands slide around my hips, gripping me. “Say something, Wicked.”
