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I plopped myself down beside a random fire, Ruslan stalking behind me, his heavy footstep unmistakable even among the dozens and dozens of males hurrying about our temporary shelter. The male pouring magic flames across the tented logs glanced at me, then moved away as if I had the plague. Once the wood caught, he made himself scarce.
An influx of heat – not from the newly built fire – filled the space behind me. I masked my face in cool indifference asRuslan spread his legs around me, then yanked me flush to him. He wrapped his arms around me, outside of the fur, then put his lips to my ear. “You are so sexy when you’re angry. I would much rather see your hostility than despair, my sprite.”
I ignored him, steeling my spine and focusing intently on the flurry of activity beyond the crackling flames. But he didn’t seem to mind, content to have me wrapped up in him. My mind still warred with my body, but eventually my body won, and I relaxed into him. He supported my weight fully, even moving his hands to my shoulders where he lightly massaged. I told myself it was because it was more comfortable this way, but in truth, I liked his body cocooning me in warmth, easing the tension from my muscles and that cracked rib that was extremely irritated by the bitter cold.
A hot meal made its way to my hands, and I gripped the bowl of stew, my fingers thawing as I inhaled the earthy spices that drifted up with the steam. Chunks of meat floated in the thick brown liquid, along with some potatoes and carrots. I sipped the broth, the flavors melting over my tongue and the liquid heating me from the inside out. The meat and vegetables were tender and filled my belly as I finished the hearty stew. Once I had my fill, I set the bowl next to Ruslan’s already empty one and clutched the fur tightly over my shoulders.
The space behind me was cold the moment he stood, promising he would return in a moment. He spoke to Drazen, who kept his eye on me the whole time Ruslan was gone. The male returned a few minutes with his hands behind his back and a mischievous uptick on his lips. I eyed him, weighing whether he was going to kill me or if he had another trick up his sleeve.
“Come with me.” He jerked his head, motioning me to follow him in the direction of his tent, which was nestled againstthe curved wall at the back of the cave. I sighed and stood, still clutching the fur, and followed him.
Anything to survive.
With one hand, he held back the flap, while the other remained obscured behind his back. Angling my body away from him as I strode inside, I crossed my arms and waited for him to join me. The canvas swished closed and he grinned, bringing his hand in front to reveal his package. Sitting in his outstretched hand was a leather-bound book with a worn cover. “This is one of my favorite books. I want you to have it, and I’ll teach you to read with it. I know I’m not the best company, so hopefully this makes up for it.”
My eyes were wide as I reached my hands out, running them over the worn leather. I took it from his grasp, flipping to the first page to view the letters scrawled there. I only recognized a few, my lessons with Cazius forgotten once we’d left for Vaenor. I murmured, “What’s it about?”
“It’s a book of poetry–”
Ruslan did not finish his statement before I flung the book like it had bitten me and jumped back into the canvas of the tent. Canvas that flashed in and out of my vision, exchanging with dimly lit stone walls and the feeling of iron clasped around my wrists and ankles. My knees slammed against the thin rug laid across the tent, only slightly dulling the pain of the hard stone beneath it.
Ruslan’s mouth worked over words I could not hear over the ones screaming in my head, a stern feminine voice that drowned out all reason as it sank its claws into me.
The night burns brighter than the day
The day that flowers give way
I clutched the sides of my head, gripping my hair in my fingers and tugging in an attempt to rid myself of the haunting poem.
The flowers that bloom under the fullest of moons
The moon that signals the changing of tunes
“Stop!” I shrieked at the words, pressing my palms into my eyes as grainy images of my keepers slapping me, yanking back my hair, and forcing me to recite poem after poem until I spoke them with perfect poise flashed behind them. Tears spilled down my cheeks as my chest was wracked with sobs, the words echoing around and around in my head as I lost touch with the tent and the male I never wanted to see me like this.
Cold water dragged me under, and my lungs burned with the effort of holding my breath. Only a few moments of peace remained before my keepers would expect me to surface and begin our inane lessons.
The tunes that beg their listeners to dance
The dance that means it’s time to rest
I gasped for air, my head spinning beneath the water.
“Izidora!” Rough hands shook me as a raspy voice screamed my name. The wide-eyed male before me had said something else, and I blinked as the cave drifted away and the tent returned to view.
With a burst of white magic, I blasted him off of me. “Don’t touch me!” My entire body trembled, more than it had while I’d ridden through the icy air of the mountains, and the chill that settled over me was bone-deep. Tears continued to flow, and through blurred lashes, I watched Ruslan pick himself up and raise his hands in surrender.
“I’ll stay over here,” he said, though the set of his shoulders told me he wanted nothing more than to wrap me up and comfort me. Between us, the thread that I still tried to deny was there hummed with worry, and I clamped down on the connection before I gave it any more attention. I dragged a serrated breath through my lips, then another, before my tremors lessened and my chest loosened. The tension in every fiber of mybeing was painful, and slowly I unwound myself from the ball I had curled up in. True to his word, Ruslan remained on the opposite side of the tent, though his attention never left me.
“Want to tell me what happened?” he asked, breaking the silence. I realized then just how silent it was, not even the murmuring of his soldiers drifting through the canvas.
“No,” I snapped, returning to that fiery place that had kept me safe before.
With the slowness of a predator stalking its prey, he walked to where the book of poetry had landed, picking it up and walking toward the tent flap. The entire time, I waited, tense and ready to fight as adrenaline still coursed through my veins. He lifted the flap wide enough for me to see the crackling fire only a few paces from our tent, then leveled a dark gaze at me. “I will burn every book of poetry in the Iron Realm for you, if that is what you want.” He flung the leather tome into the fire, sending sparks flying from the burning logs. When his eyes returned to me, they held no hint of remorse. “You are my mate, and you and I will love each other unconditionally because that’s what mates do. That book is nothing compared to the lengths I would go to for you, Izidora. I will burn the whole fucking world down for you to show my undying devotion.”
My heart fluttered as the sincerity of his words settled over me. Ruslan was an intense male, and I held no doubt that he would carry out his promise to me. The tent flap closed with a whisper, and he crept toward me, crouching down so we were more level. “Let me try again. I have something you might like better.”
I only nodded as he reached into his leather bag and pulled out another book encased in embossed green. “The Throne of the Earth is a fantasy. The main character must fight to the death to claim his throne. Every time I read it, I am gripped with the story. It reminds me so much of my own life, and I feel lessalone.” He looked away, but there was more underneath the words, a story he wasn’t quite ready to reveal.
