Page 22 of The Blade in the Ashes
Who was I now without Clay and the others by my side?
Who was I without that electric pool of magic in my gut?
“Let me help you find yourself again.”
The sincerity in his voice only fueled the pain inside me further.
“How would you do that, Caldrius?” I snapped, pushing away from him. “Would you take me to watch more sunsets and tell me more sad stories about how everyone in your life turned against you? Would that be enough to make me forget the way you asked Hyrax to shape me in her image? Would it make me forget the way you lied to me or the way you have stood by while he’s taken over this kingdom—mykingdom?”
He exhaled in a rush, brow lifted as he allowed my outburst, all while gently nodding to himself. As if he had expected it. As if he were dealing with nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum.
Anoverly petulantchild.
That was my last straw.
I turned on my heels, determined to storm into my bedroom, throw myself into bed and wait for sleep to overtake me.
Only…
I froze.
This fucking dress.
Perfect as it had been for the role I wanted to play, I hadn’t realized how late it would be by the time we returned from dinner. It was far too late to summon Nessira to help me out of it.
With my hands on my hips in frustration, I turned back to him, practically growling as he grinned in amusement.
“Need something?” He teased.
I only rolled my eyes and turned, giving him my back and sweeping my hair over my shoulder.
“It’s polite to say please.”
“Caldrius!” My patience had been spent an eternity ago.
A laugh, then the feeling of his fingers beginning to undo the laces of my corset. “Do I at least get anything in return?”
“What more could you possibly want from me tonight?”
“You could help me undress too.”
I fought the urge to jam my elbow into his stomach. “Must you always be so indecent?”
“Is it considered indecent for a wife to undress her husband?”
Breathing came easier with every tug of the laces, but as his fingers began to slow against my back, I tensed.
“You can lie to Hyrax if you want, and he might even believe it, but I know the truth.”
I needed to end this conversation—thank him for helping me with the gown, walk into my bedroom and effectively end this before it could get any worse. Without a word of response, I began walking forward.
“You’re in love with him.”
My movements halted.
Golden hair. Golden eyes.
The image of him flashed so clearly in my mind that it was as if Clay was standing in front of me. The phantom awareness of cinnamon, burnt oak, andhomeflooded my senses.
