Page 68 of A Court of Ash and Midnight
I don’t want to mention that there’sanotheremotion that triggers my magic… And I can’t exactly have Daemon kiss me right before the challenge so I can summon it. But Cillian is right. If anger is another way to summon it, that’s something I can work with.
“I’m trying to learn to summon it. Maybe thinking of those awful brothers can help with that.”
“You only have another day to figure it out,” Cillian adds, as if I didn’t know. “You may want something stronger than a couple barbarians that rub you the wrong way. Something deeper.”
“I’ll think on it.”
We walk for a few minutes in silence, and then I ask, “Did my parents have any magic at all?”
Cillian looks over at me, a sympathetic look on his face. “Your mother was good with herbal tinctures. A healer. But not magic exactly, just a knowledge of the natural world.”
“And my father?” I ask, hating the way my voice breaks.
“He kept up his role in court as he should. When he had free time, he played music and made things out of wood. Clocks and small pieces of furniture, things like that.”
“And my…” I can’t get the last word out past the tears in my throat.
“Your sister? She was a very gifted singer. A voice like the fae themselves.”
Only the tiniest nuggets of information, but it feels like getting a part of my heart back. A shard of what was shattered so many years ago. Shattered and never put back together again.
Because how can someone heal something if they can’t even remember it in the first place?
We walk for a long time before turning back, and no further words are exchanged between us.
When we reachthe edge of the tent village, I turn to Cillian. “I need to go practice for the challenge. I’m going to head off on my own from here.”
He raises his brows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
My jaw tightens as I look off in the direction of our grandparents’ tent. “It’s certainly safer than anyplace near our family.”
“Fair enough.” He shrugs. “Be careful, cousin.”
I nod, and I head off along the peaks, trying to find a path upward to the glen where we practiced the night before. Before too long, I find a narrow path, and I climb back and forth until I reach the top. I’m a bit south of where we were before, but a few minutes of walking takes me there.
Daemon is waiting for me.
When he sees me, he jumps up from the rock he’s sitting on and strides toward me. “Thank the goddess! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I pause before him, my heart doing that funny little thing. It’s still surreal that Daemon feels… whatever way he feels about me. “My grandparents summoned me to their tent first thing. And then I had to run away. Then I hid in Julian’s tent. And then Cillian…”
“Wait, what?” He places his hands on my shoulders, his face storming over. “What did they do to you? Why did you have to hide?”
A shudder moves over me. “They have these… associates… friends… I don’t know. And they have this splendid idea that they’re going to marry me off to one of them.”
The look on Daemon’s face makes me very glad he’s on my side. He looks like a god of vengeance, and a flare of shadows moves around him. His voice is raw and animalistic. “Theywhat?”
“Julian thinks they’re from Vinorjia…they already have wives, but they want more…and for some insane reason my grandparents think they can sell me off without permission.” I can feel that familiar heat flare up inside of me.
“If either of them lays a hand on you, I will make sure that’s the last time they have hands to use at all,” Daemon growls, his shadows expanding to wrap around me as well.
I look up into his eyes, watching the play of shadows around him, feeling the metallic taste of stars from his magic. Standing here, in broad daylight, he is night itself. His skin like the moon, his hair the canvas of the sky, his shadows a storm of heat and energy. And even in all his rage and all his deadliness, he feels like home. Night has always been my comfort. The place I felt safe, wrapped in velvet and darkness.
My fingers move up of their own accord and I brush a strand of hair back from his eyes, stepping closer, into the curve of his body. I can feel his heartbeat against me, and the hard stretch of his muscles, and smell the leather-musk scent of him. Daemon wraps his arms around me, and his magic presses in closer. I tilt my head and stand on my toes, and our lips meet, and it feels like the spark of the night sky there, too.
The kiss starts soft and slow as the shadows spin around us, but then Daemon lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He crushes me against him as he claims my mouth, his fingers digging into my back, pulling me closer and closer. A gasp of surprise escapes my throat when he drops to his knees, guidingus down into the grass. He kneels over me, pulling off his tunic, and when I prop up on my elbows, he pulls off mine as well. I hook a leg up over him and guide him back down, drawing his face back to my mouth.
Daemon devours me, trailing his lips from my mouth down along my jaw, my neck, biting along the edge of my shoulder. With one hand, he pushes aside the lace of my brassiere and strokes his thumb over the tip of my nipple, which hardens instantly under his touch. A moan and a gasp rises out of me, and Daemon growls, a low rumble which moves along the length of my body in delicious ways. He kisses his way between my breasts and down my stomach, stopping when he gets to the waistband of my pants. He flicks those gorgeous jade eyes up to mine, and that look alone almost ends me. Then, with a devilish smirk, he yanks down my pants in one swift movement.
