Scorched Treachery (Imdalind, #3)(50)

“Does this upset you?” I smiled, Thom’s usual haughty demeanor coming back strong. It was unsurprising; men hated it when you insulted their masculinity.

“Be with a prince but not be branded as a princess, of course it upsets me.” I glanced at him through the mirror before continuing my morning preparations. “Give me a name, Thom, let me take a life. That is what I am good for, what I thrive at, not this nonsense.”

“Perhaps he wants you to have a challenge.” Thom moved closer to me, the strength in his voice not leaving that time.

“Hmmm… Then let me kill his first born.” I smiled, pleased when a bloodthirsty light flickered in Thom’s eyes.

“Ilyan’s mine.” He grinned and I couldn’t help but return the smile. Everyone wanted to kill Ilyan, but no one could get close enough to even attempt it.

“Why me, Thom?”

“You are the most powerful of the Trpaslíks, the only one who still possess the fire magic…”

“And he wants his blood blended with that strength?”

Centuries ago, the fire magic that the Trpaslíks had been born with began to disappear. It wasn’t until my birth, over a hundred years ago, that the fire magic had returned. But it was only me. It never moved beyond that, making my blood, my magic, a highly sought after commodity and one that Edmund greatly desired.

Thom nodded in answer to my question, the hat in his hand finally stopping its incessant spinning. I smirked and turned toward him, leaning against my dressing table.

“What of you, Thom? Does he want you to be stronger as well?” I stepped toward him, his eyes lowering as he looked me over.

“I think it is his hope.”

I could only smile, of course it wasn’t. If Edmund wanted Thom to be stronger, he would have insisted on the bonding. Then, at least, Thom would inherit my unique power should I die. No, Edmund wouldn’t do that. He wanted my power for himself. He had tried to punish me after I removed his finger in warning when he suggested I bond myself to him. It was then that he had placed me as one of his assassins rather than his bodyguard, but I rather enjoyed the post. Not to mention I was good at it, taking out a whole herd of useless Draks by myself had been much easier than I would have assumed. No, he wouldn’t be so foolish as to give that power to one of his children. This forced pregnancy, however, was a different story.

It only took him seventy years to figure out a new punishment for my treachery. It was almost enough to make me regret burning off his finger in the first place.

I wondered how difficult assassinations would be with a bulging belly. If this were Edmund’s new punishment, then I would gladly shove it in his face.

When it was all said and done, I had expected to hand the child over to Thom and walk away back to my blood soaked career path. What I hadn’t expected was the reaction I had at holding a small wriggling infant in my arms. One look at the dark eyes of the beautiful baby girl and I was changed.

Rosaline.

Of course, she was cursed from the beginning. Her eye color was not the royal blue that Edmund demanded. He had killed so many of his children when they were born without the bright blue of royalty that a grandchild wouldn’t make him bat an eyelid. I knew at once that she would be destined for the same fate if I didn’t do something.

Fury would not be a word I would use to match Edmund’s anger at his failed attempt at biology. It was much worse.

I was the one who would be punished. While Thom was left to raise our precious daughter, I was sent out on assassination missions, each one more difficult than the last. I continued to track the last of Draks with the forced sight of Sain. I tracked and murdered all of Ilyan’s extended family, and even the family of his precious, clunk-headed bodyguard, all in an attempt to flush him out.

But through all the blood on my hands, it was the moments with my little blonde-headed girl that meant the most to me.

“Mama!” I turned at Rosaline’s voice. Her rosy cheeks, her dark eyes, everything about her seemed to glow as she ran toward us, her hair flowing in the wind. “Mama! Will you bind these flowers in my hair?”

“Of course, baby, why don’t you go pick some more?” Rosy smiled at me and danced back into the meadow, her hair flying behind her like ribbons of silk.

“She’s like you.” I turned at Thom’s voice, his smile wide as he winked at me before turning back to our beautiful dancer.

“Are you training her in hand to hand combat while I am gone, Thom?” I asked, waving to my eager child as she plucked dozens of long stemmed daisies.

“Oh yes, choke holds are her favorite.” We both laughed, but it was strained, the truth of his words held a dark edge. “What I meant to say is that she does what she wants. She doesn’t care what people think of her.”

“Well, that is like me.”

“Incredibly.” Thom smiled at me before following after Rosy, scooping her up, and swinging her through the warm summer air.

I had never had a friend before. Thom was my first. He taught me to care for my child. He taught me to laugh. He taught me to enjoy life. I had been raised to kill, raised to hunt people. It was all I knew, but Thom changed that. He turned me from a weapon into a person.

With him, I spent sunrises in meadows, evenings playing cards, days at pubs, and nights at gypsy parties. He showed me the world in a different light. I was amazed that so much life could be inside of someone.