Page 18 of A Reign of Malice
He’s real.
And I will get him out. One way or another.
When I finally turn back to Clara, guilt crashes into me. She’s pale, her breathing unsteady, but her hands are anything but weak.
She’s holding a dagger, ready to fight me. “Don’t make me restrain you, Sloane. I will for your own good, even if it means you hate me.”
The sight of her standing there, weapon drawn, rattles something in me.
This is Clara—my closest advisor, my most trusted confidante, my fiercest protector.
And she genuinely believes I might lose myself to this.
I exhale, forcing my hands to steady as I step toward her, catching both her wrists.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words thick with exhaustion. “I let my emotions cloud my judgment.” I shake my head, inhaling deeply. “I know you’re worried. I am too. But I also know what I felt. There’s no way that connection was fabricated.” I press a hand to my chest, over my racing heart. “I still feel him, Clara. Even now.”
Her eyes flicker with concern, likely for my sanity.
“It doesn’t matter why he’s down there,” I continue. “I have to get him out. And if he truly is a monster, I’ll kill him myself. But I have to know. After all this time,I have to.”
Silence stretches between us.
Then Clara nods, her expression softening just enough. “I know, but please don’t do this alone. Don’t touch those runes again until I find that book. A lot of my belongings arrived yesterday. I’ll go through them today. Just give me time. He’s clearly not going anywhere, and neither are we.”
She’s right, and I hate how I reacted toward her, but all rational thought went out of my mind the moment I realized who this man is to me. The how and why will come later.
“Thank you for being my voice of reason,” I tell her sincerely. “I won’t come back here without you. I promise.”
Her sharpened gaze pierces me. “Something tells me I shouldn’t believe you.”
I grin without any real humor. “Because you probably shouldn’t.”
If he calls out to me again, I don’t know how I’ll react, but denying my mate, even if he might be a danger, feels impossible until we know more.
Clara scowls. “I hate you sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
With a final glare, she turns back to the painting, and together we put it back on the wall. I place my hand over the canvas, hoping for one more interaction, but there’s nothing now. Not even the pull. Only the memory.
We head back to the main section of the castle, and I keep my face neutral. I can’t give anything away, not even to passing staff. Whatever’s been happening here, there’s no telling how many of them know and what they might do to keep such secrets hidden.
We’re almost to our rooms, but when we turn the final corner, Aeson is standing at the end of the corridor, waiting. His gaze sweeps over me, curiosity flickering behind his dark blue eyes. “Out for a morning stroll?”
I smile as I approach, letting my movements slow, become more fluid. “Exploring my new home. A queen should be familiar with the kingdom she’s meant to rule, don’t you think?”
His smirk deepens. “You are thorough, aren’t you?”
“Always.”
Aeson reaches for my hand, his fingers brushing mine. I let him take it, even leaning in slightly, as if drawn to him. His scent—an earthy spice and something distinctlyhim—wraps around me, but it no longer stirs anything inside me.
I press my palm to his chest, angling my head closer. “You’ve been busy these last few days.”
“As have you,” he murmurs, his hand gliding to my waist.
The contact is possessive, but I let it linger as I feign excitement for what’s to come. “Do you need any help with ceremony planning? It’s getting so close now.”
