Page 32 of Of Blood and Banes
I slowly take the dagger from her, lifting an eyebrow. “What is this for?”
“Hide it. In case you need it,” she whispers. “You’ll get the rest of your weapons tomorrow.”
My shoulders sag in relief. Just as I’m about to ask her if it was Sethan’s will to return our swords and daggers, the door opens again. Four soldiers spill into the room, two of which hold someone between them. I slide the dagger behind my back out of view, then tuck it into my waistband. Their prisoner—Darian—lifts his head and glares at me through strands of his chestnut brown hair. I fight against the surge of nervousness that I might have made the wrong decision.
The four soldiers half-drag, half-fight Darian to the far wall parallel to the bed. Two of them take the end of the long ‘leash’ of a chain from his shackles and secure it to a metal loop in the stone wall.
I squint.Why the hells did Cyrus have shackles in his room?
“Don’t worry,” Tawny whispers. “Those chains have been tested and won’t break. The only way out of them will be if you release them. And the chain connecting him to the wall is about nine feet long. There’s another six-foot gap between the bounds of what the chains will allow him to move, and the edge of your bed. So long as you stay out of his reach, you’ll be safe. If you need us to remove him, just send word.”
The soldiers test the chain’s strength by tugging on it repeatedly, before stepping back and turning their attention to Tawny, who nods her dismissal. The men slip out of the room, and as Tawny shifts to follow them, her gaze snags on me.
I can see it in her eyes—are you sure this is a good idea?
I nod, and she leaves. She watches me as she closes the door, leaving me alone with Darian.
“Can you tell me why the fuck I’m in here with you?” Darian growls.
Clenching my hand around the dagger’s hilt, I turn toward his direction. His breath falls in and out heavily, and he jerks against the manacles like a wild animal. Every time he stills, his body trembles like a leaf. My attention is focused on the metal entrapping him and waiting for it to bend or break. But it doesn’t. Though, it does little to relax my tensed muscles.
Shoving my anxiety out of my own limelight, I stride over to the bed between us and slide the dagger underneath a pillow.
“I’m talking to you!” Darian snarls.
And here I thought I was the one at mercy from his bad temper and egotistical, self-entitlement. I turn to face him, thankful they at least decided to clothe him. Wounds still pattern his face in bruises and cuts, though they look mostly scabbed over. His face, hair, and clothing look fairly clean considering the last time I saw him. At least they’ve afforded him a bath.
“Answer me!” he barks again.
Makes sense he’s the prince of an asshole.Forcing the fear and intimidation out of my body and face, I snap back, “Because I requested it. You’re fucking welcome!”
Gods, the way he watches me, seething with his pupils blown to spheres nearly drowning out his green irises. It sends a chill racing down my spine. Perhaps thisisa mistake. But it’s too late now—if I go back to Sethan and request Darian be returned to the dungeons, it will only look bad. It’ll make me look weak. And I can’t afford for Sethan, or anyone else for that matter, to think that of me. Besides, I have to start believing I have this under control.
I turn my back to him and hesitate for a moment before undressing. I shouldn’t care. He’s already seen me naked. Lifting my chin, I undress down to my undergarments with my back to him, ignoring the metal chains clinking and screeching against each other as he tests the shackles again and again. I find sets of clothes in an ornate wooden dresser near the bed and pull out a nightgown before sliding it over my body.
“You might as well quit trying. You’re not getting out unless I see to it,” I call, shifting into the sheets and wrapping my hand around the hilt of the dagger tucked beneath my pillow.
“Listen, bitch,” he hisses from the far wall. “If you don’t let me go?—”
I flip toward him and pin him with a glare as he strains against his confines. “Watch how you speak to me.”
“Bi-tch,” he pronounces slowly.
Throwing the sheets off me, I whip out the dagger from beneath the pillow and tear out of bed, anger fueling each step as I storm toward him. I have to set these boundaries. And I have to set them now. If I’m to share such an intimate setting with him for an unknown amount of time, I must establish the rules.
I will not take his bullshit.
I will not be scared of him.
If anything…he will be scared ofme.
He’s fucking lucky I don’t throw him outside and let the dragons have him. This is his last option, unless he wants to stay in the dungeons again. At which point, I’d have no control over what happens to him.
I close the distance between us, watching him with a lifted chin as I press the tip of my blade to his throat and growl, “Don’t. Fucking. Test. Me.”
He tips his head back in defiance, a grin tilting his lips as he swallows against the blade. Testing me. Narrowing my eyes at the challenge, I inch my hand forward, letting the edge of thedagger prick his skin. A thin river of blood trickles down his neck.
“Look at that…the kitten has claws,” he purrs. “Come a little closer, won’t you? I want to see how far you’re willing to go.”
