Page 135 of The Spark that Ignites
And she waited. Andwaited—her heart racing like a ticking clock.
The wolf had entered shortly after, plunking itself beside the table, its glossy onyx coat and the silver spike embedded in its throat glimmering menacingly in the candlelight.
She’d never seen anything like that strange chunk of metal, nor a wolf with horns. The spike seemed to hum with a low magical bass as she focused on it. Emmery narrowed her eyes at the creature, and she could have sworn the corners of its mouth turned up. Was it ... smirking at her?
No, that was impossible.
Tearing herself away from the unexplained consciousness emanating from the wolf, Emmery smoothed the skirts of her shimmering black dress. It was sheer except for the suffocating slip beneath and happened to be the most modest garment she could find. For a closet that wasn’t her own, there was a remarkable amount of green.
Yanking the sleeves to cover the iridescent marks binding her magic, she sighed. Gods, those restraints made her feel so damn helpless she had to bite back a scream.
Emmery’s gaze returned to the wolf’s as Destonne strode into the room dressed in a black jacket and matching trousers. Training her eyes on the wolf’s orange stare, Emmery refused to look at the King beyond the glimpse of him in her peripherals.
“Your dog is staring at me,” she said, blinking slowly at the wolf. “It's unnerving.”
Destonne pulled out a chair across from her and threw himself into the seat like he’d just endured the longest day of his life. So unkingly. “Is Brennen bothering you?” he asked, amusement fluttering in his question.
Emmery’s attention slid to the King, her brows furrowing. “That’s an awfully human name for a pet.” Her eyes widened as it growled and bared its teeth.
“Brennen,down boy,” Destonne quipped. “I think you mean he.Heis bothering you.”
“Sure, sure.” She waved him off. “But why ishestaring at me like that?”
Destonne rasped a sound imitating a laugh. “Try asking him.”
“Very funny.” Emmery’s eyes slid to the King to find him fighting a smile. “What?”
“I suppose I should tell you he’s a man. So, you know before you disrobe in front of him or give him a rigorous belly rub.” The King brushed a rogue curl off his forehead.
“You’re joking,” she choked out, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’ve been staring at him for about twenty minutes.”
Destonne’s gaze lazily flicked to the wolf. “Enough games. Do you want to tell her or shall I?”
Brennen’s orange eyes captured hers and he blinked leisurely. “Hello, princess.” The smoky voice invaded her mind and Emmery stifled a gasp. It echoed like Guardian Kaah’s.
Attention warring between the two, she said, exasperated, “You can’t be serious.”
“Very serious.”His titter echoed in her head, a mischievous, shadowy sound. “I’m glad I no longer have to sit outside that castle watching you. It grew tedious very quickly.”
Destonne cleared his throat, staring daggers at him. “I can’t hear what you’re saying butbehave.” The King replied to the wolf’s sly smile with a frown. “She’s our guest, Bren.”
“I didn’t need a stalker, Dog,” Emmery snapped back at Brennen, her gaze torn between the wolf and King. She settled on Destonne who appeared immeasurably bored.
Brennen grinned a wolfish smile—more a flash of sharp canines. “You would be dead if I hadn’t stepped in, so a little gratitude would be nice. I did arrange your transportation back from the Skyborne Temple. Would you have preferred I left you for the Queen to retrieve?”
His smart comment grated on her nerves.
“Arrogant pup,” she sneered.
“Vicious words coming from someone so small. Watch yourself, princess.”He winked. The damn dogwinkedat her. “I’ll let you speak privately.”Despite Brennen’s obnoxious attitude, she almost wanted him to stay, only so she wouldn’t be left alone with the King. Brennen stalked to the door, his colossal tail swishing behind him.
Her nails bit into her palms as the door swung and Brennen disappeared behind it. “What wasthat?” she asked, gesturing to the direction Brennen had gone. “And why is he like that?”
“He can’t shift anymore if that’s what you’re asking,” Destonne put simply. Elbow braced on the table, he cupped his cheek in his palm. The angry torn skin where the thorns broke through peeked out his sleeve. “He’s been like that since he was a child.”
Pity burrowed into her gut. He was trapped like that. A man inside a beast. What a horrific state for your body to become your prison. “What happened?” she asked tentatively, her curiosity gnawing at her.
“A story for another time.” Destonne sat back and drummed his fingers on the table, slowly, deliberately, as if planning his next move. “If he bothers you again, throw him a ball. He loves it. Keeps him busy for hours.”
