Page 22 of Bound in Violet Ink
Give it a few weeks before the stain of the Seelie’s will be removed from her. And those beautiful, golden hazel eyes will burnbrightwith vengeance.
Vendors shout from behind their stalls, hawking goods as shady as the buyers themselves. The buildings are stacked crooked and close, wood bleached gray by endless storms. Ships groan in the harbor, their rigging snapping when tugged.
My people leap lightly onto the dock as I lift Victoria into my arms—she will be waking any moment—and carry her with a care that makes my own men glance at each other. Let them. The sooner they connect these dots, the better.
A man waits near the makeshift, short gangway, flanked by guards with polished armor and blank stares.
He doesn't fit here. His clothes are too fine—dark green velvet slashed with gold thread, a long coat meant for a throne room, not the piss-stinking docks.
An outfitIwear when necessary.
A half-smile plays on his lips like he already thinks he’s won whatever game he’s here to play. Ignoring him, I take Victoria to Freya, where a horse-drawn carriage lined with hay awaits. As I lay her down, my arms still underneath her and her face closer to mine, Victoria’s slow beating heart is no longer felt against my skin.
She is warm, alive, real.
She’s just a stranger to me, in truth, but thepromiseof what she is to me is as mesmerizing as it is to dethrone the Seelie. “Whistle if she awakens,” I say to Freya, leaving her but not too far.
Lord Malric’s smile tightens as I approach him, his gaze flitting over to the carriage. Something deep and aggressive within me wants to lock that woman away until every last rite of mating and bonding has been fulfilled.Control yourself.
“So, the rumors of you escaping are true. Kane Blackthorn himself, completely dismantling the Carrows. It’s like dragging a legend out of the sea.” He gestures lazily to the guards, pretending not to stare. “And through my little mice, I’ve heard you have the adopted daughter with you. And that happens to lookexactlylike her description.”
My voice is flat. “Rumors spread faster than changing winds.”
He laughs once—a high, brittle sound like glass cracking. He steps nearer, but doesn’t get too close, as I still hold the rank here. “Whoever marries her is entitled to Silas’s protection,” he says quietly. “She’s been difficult to marry, I’ve heard. But now, some of those who rejected her are talking about returning out of desperation, knowing what looms in the air.”
I study him without blinking. This is the kind of man who thinks words are weapons because of the networking of whispering spies he has. A wild card, I acknowledge, but he holds nopower.
“Do you go around often making vague statements without defining what you mean?” I ask, my tone soft enough to be dangerous. “Because you are wasting my time, and I’ve spent too many fucking nights in that prison to waste itgossipingwith you.”
The man's throat bobs as he swallows.
“I don't know why you have her,” he mutters, lowering his voice even further, “but either get rid of her, or figure out a way to make her permanently unavailable. I don't want that kind of trouble near me.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough to make him sweat. Then I smile—sharp and cold. “I already planned on it.”
He bows his head slightly and takes a careful step back. Turning away from the Lord and his guards, I stride back to the carriage as my boots leave prints in the wet soil. Behind me, the port churns and roars, oblivious to the small war just narrowly avoided.
But it doesn't matter.
Bigger battles wait ahead.
And I have every intention of winning.
My mind is blank.
When my eyes open, I’m completely unaware as to where I am. This isn’t the typical room I wake up in, nor does it smell like me—him. Is it a letter? Did I sleep with it under my pillow?
The recollection of the Carrows returns, but it’s such a bizarre suggestion I’m still convinced I dreamed it. There had been Kane…
Sitting up in a bed that is most definitely not my own, I eye the worn quilt with furrowed brows. Licking dry lips, I search forwater—I nearly jump out of my skin, my heart profusely beating, when I seehe’ssitting near me, in a chair, with no shirt on. We stare at each other for a while, the dim lighting creating a confusing intimacy, at least for me, as I don’t often have people in my bedroom at this hour. “What happened?” I croak, my voice dry.
He nods to the table next to me, where a massive water bladder teases me as I greedily uncork and down it. There’s nothing ladylike in my approach, and when I’m done, I don’t bother apologizing for such crass behavior.
If my memory is reliable at all, he knocked me out.
In all my years of observing the masks that people wear, and how those can slip in the slightest ways when someone finally feels alone, I can tell Kane has a mask that has slipped. To the average observer, his expression is still stolid. But not his eyes, that’s always the first to slip.
It reminds me exactly of the times when my adoptive siblings would shut the door, and then their eyes would come to life with thetrueperson inside.
