Page 69 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
Just as it lay in this man’s eyes as he leant closer, his breath brushing upon my face, and I knew I was going to kill him.
My magic a wild thing within my chest, thrashing against my ribs. Smoke crawling up my throat, the lick of phantom flames all over my skin. Searching for a way out.
Wishing to boil him inside his skin, just as I had Daunton.
Murderer, that dark voice hissed inside my head.
No.
Before my magic could seize control, I broke his hold. One sharp, shove with all my strength, forsaken iron burning my flesh, but I pushed through the pain, balled my fist and struck him across the face.
He stumbled back, knocking books and a collection of small sample bottles to the ground.
My magic rushed through me as I slumped back against the bookcase, gasping for breath as I forced myself remain silent. I willed my body to move. To leave. The fear penetrating too deeply for what I’d done. How close I’d come to doing it again. Hands trembling with the agony of those burns.
Murderer, hissed in the back of my mind.
The pain of my magic surging bowed me over, as the shelf I held onto cracked beneath my hold. Panic tightening my chest as I heard the intruder moving, coming closer again, but I couldn’t move.
The bookcase rattled and then the largest compendium on the shelf shot free, hitting him in the groin, Doubling him over. Another book tumbled to my feet, where it began to bounce and ruffle its pages in annoyance. Small pieces of paper flying free. I kicked it, sending it skidding in the man’s direction, and a clawed hand made of ink and paper reaching out and taking hold of his boot, claws burying themselves in the leather. An annoyed grunt left him, as he tried to kick it away.
I gathered my skirts and ran through the dark shelves towards the safety of the hall, panting as I glanced behind me, only to slam into something hard. A cry peeling from my lips.
I raised my hand to fight, only to find myself pressed against Emrys’s chest, my forearms caught as I panted againstthe exposed scarred skin of his throat. His coat wet from the storm. His eyes black as night.
‘Kat?’ His brow was creased with worry before he heard it. The footsteps behind us. I turned from his hold, spinning myself so I was behind him. I kept moving backwards, clutching my chest as I tried to pull in breath. Tried to push down the urge to let the wickedness in me free.
The shelves around us creaked, a rumble beneath the wood, a tension about to snap.
‘You better have a good reason for being here, Montagor.’ Emrys’s words were as sharp as a knife as the man stepped from the shadows of the shelves, leaning casually against one.
Lord Montagor. The King’s bastard. Currently in charge of managing the fight against rebel fighters in the north.
‘Your pet hit me, old friend.’ The Lord grinned, wiping at his mouth where I’d split his lip as he leant one hand on the side of one of the study pillars, looking down at the blood on his fingertips with amusement.
There was no relief in being away from him, or Emrys being between us as my skin continued to burn.
‘She’s not mypetand we’re not friends,’ Emrys replied, a coldness to his voice that didn’t reassure me. The tightness that had taken hold of Emrys’s mouth seemed to consume his whole body. The shelves around us creaked, a rumble beneath the wood, something about to snap.
‘How you wound me, dear Emrys.’ Montagor grinned, pressing his hand over his heart, his distaste coating every word. ‘You can imagine my surprise when you requested the troll.’
Troll.The panic in me continued to rise, my skin flushing as magic shifted in my blood, responding to the burns on my hands.
Disorientated, I pushed myself further from them, unable to breathe, the coldness of fear and the bitterness of my shame for being afraid chasing after me.
I wanted to vanish, to run, but I was unable to move as I pressed my palms to the cold wood of the shelves behind me. The darkness pressing closer and closer with every breath.
‘I know you like to play games, Emrys. This is a step too far. Kysillians are highly valuable.’
‘Miss Woodrow is under my mentorship and therefore my protection.’
‘You lie as badly as your father.’ Montagor laughed, the humour sickening as a wave of pain from the rage of my power almost bowed me over. ‘We both know the Council wants rid of the creature, why delay the inevitable?’
The truth in his voice only ignited that inferno inside of me.
Stupid, ugly troll.Those words always came back to me, that pain always came back. As bitter and sharp as the sting of a lashing. My breath stuttered through my lips, my magic surging in response to the mere memory of the pain.
I was losing control again. Another rush and my knees almost buckled from the energy of trying to contain it. Tears filled my eyes as the echoes of screams came back to me.
