Fire and Bone (Otherborn #1)(106)

“Feck off,” Faelan says.

“Can’t she speak for herself?” he asks.

I search his face for a clue, any clue, that might tell me what he’s up to. “Feck off,” I repeat, trying to sound sure. But as I study his familiar features, the assurance in his tall frame, the sly glint in his silver eyes, I can’t stop my legs from shaking. A part of me wants to walk toward him; it craves his touch. It wants . . . him.

But it’s not him that the traitorous part of me wants. That man is gone. Lost.

“You’re of one mind, I see,” Kieran says. “But I still need to speak with you, princess. One way or another. So you’ll come with me now.”

“No way,” I say, stepping back. My pulse picks up. I’m suddenly very sure that if he touches me, I won’t be able to stop myself from surrendering.

Kieran looks sideways at Faelan. “If you allow me to take her without trouble, hunter, I’ll make it worth your while. More riches, more power, than Marius could ever give you.”

Faelan just glares.

“No?” Kieran says. “I thought it was worth a try. If I have to rip off your head, our princess won’t be pleased with me. No one else will miss you, though.”

At the vision of Faelan being torn in two, warmth rises into my skin, buzzing in my chest.

I step in front of Kieran, blocking his path to Faelan. “What do you want?”

His gaze moves to me. “You.”

My heart stutters. I shake my head.

“Come with me, little doe,” he says. “It’s urgent that we discuss what I’ve discovered. I’ll allow you to bring your protector if you wish. Or I can pull his entrails out here and now. And I think you know that I will. He doesn’t have to die; he can merely be quartered a bit.”

“You’re a monster,” I say, meaning it.

“Yes.” A smile fills his lips.

“He can do whatever he bloody wants to do to me, Sage,” Faelan says. “I don’t give a shit. But if you give in to him, he won’t let you go in the end.” Faelan puts his hand on my arm protectively.

Kieran’s muscles tense, readying to strike.

“Don’t, Kieran,” I say. I know he’ll hurt Faelan. He’ll do worse. And he won’t stop until I give in. I can see it in the sharp set of his jaw, the slight rise of the shoulders as his muscles tense. He has the same look of deadly determination that my king wore. An unbreakable will. He’ll get what he wants.

He’s suddenly as familiar to me as if I’ve known him my whole life. And it’s terrifying.

“I’ll talk to you,” I say, my voice weak. Shame fills me, but I don’t see any other way. I can’t let him hurt Faelan to get to me. “I’ll go.”

“No, Sage!” Faelan growls, grabbing me hard. “You can’t.”

Kieran’s eyes lock on Faelan’s grip. And then he’s shifting, smoke, until he’s suddenly re-forming inches away.

He takes Faelan’s head in his hands and turns it with a quick snap, breaking his neck.

The sound jars through my bones. Faelan collapses to the ground, lifeless. But before I can scream, before I can move, Kieran’s got me by the throat.

“Hush now,” he hisses, lips against my cheek.

He turns to the wraiths and their shadows begin to move, darkness crowding around me. My vision clouds, dimming, my mind slipping. I squirm, trying to pull back, urgency screaming in my blood to get away. My power rises, glowing in my skin.

But Kieran’s fingers around my neck are stone. He knows the torque will keep him safe from my fire.

“You have chosen,” he whispers in my ear. “Let go now, my love.”

The words slink over me, coiling around my heart as if they’re coming from the past, coming from my king . . .

I try to find the truth, the light, but I can’t. I can only feel him.

And so I obey. I let the darkness take me.



“You should let go, my love,” the king says. “The wolf won’t relent, that is sure.”

I yank harder on the velvet shawl, but the king’s wolf merely growls, setting its jaw, its teeth firmly gripping the fabric.

The king opens his book again, saying dryly, “You shouldn’t have left it on the floor.” Then he returns to ignoring me as he always does now during his evening read.

“And a wolf shouldn’t be inside,” I snap back. “So the world is topsy-turvy.” I direct my next words to the beast. “Let go, you mongrel, or you’ll be fed to the crows.” The wolf’s brow moves as if it doubts my threat.

So I tug again. The sound of rending fabric fills the air, a hole appearing in the weave. The garment is ruined.

I growl in frustration and release my end. As soon as it falls to the floor, the king’s wolf drops it as well. The creature looks up at me, tongue lolling, mouth open in a toothy grin. Traitor.

“Take it, then,” I say, collapsing back into the chair, too tired to fight any longer.

The king looks up, catching my gaze with his. “And that is why the wolf will always win.”

I give him a questioning tilt of my brow.

He leans forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “Don’t you see? He’s willing to destroy everything you hold dear to claim what he wants.”