Page 49 of Kingdom Of Veil And Vow

“Is it brought on by stress? The shift?” he presses on, fingers interlocking where his hands hang between his knees.

“I don’t— I don’t know.” Talking about myself, about my magic, isn’t something I want to do. But if it keeps the questions off of Rhea… I sigh. “When I was stuck as a fox in the tower, the urge to shift would prickle right beneath my skin. Like an itch that I just couldn’t scratch. It grew with every day, every week and month and then year, that passed until, at some point, my mind just forgot the instinct altogether.” I tilt my head, trying to find the right way to explain the sensation. “Maybe ‘forgot’ isn’t right, but remember when I told you that the mind can go crazy if you wait too long to shift?” He nods. “I think that madness erases the understanding of why we feel that urge to shift. Almost like a strange self-preservation method. The other night, I felt so trapped. So useless. I was afraid of Immie being tortured again. Afraid I wouldn’t be able to help her. To help myself.”

The combination of fear and feeling powerless is always thrumming through me, but I haven’t felt something so potent since my last night on the island. It had been different then. My power was cut off because of the berry Kenji slipped in my drink. But that helplessness, that feeling of being unable to stop what was happening, my body couldn’t tell the difference. Danger was still danger, and my magic had always tried protecting me from that. Even when I ignored it.

“The commander’s presence after I shifted only made things worse. He called me—” I pinch my lips shut, my fingers clutching the tunic’s hem more harshly. “He enjoys taunting me. Scaring me. Reminding me that there is no scenario in which I can escape him. And the king’s advisor was there, and he looked at me like I was some kind of experiment or, I don’t know, something to be studied.” I shake my head, my eyes lifting back to Xander’s. “I didn’t know where I was anymore or what I was doing. I was just helpless, falling down a well with no escape.” The drag of my inhale is loud, tension tight in my chest.

“I will kill him.” Though the words are hushed, they strike me as if they were shouted. A promise of vengeance laced within them that I wonder if I was supposed to hear. A muscle in his jaw flexes, pulsing to the tame beat of his heart. For a man who is no part shifter, my own animal recognizes something primal in him. A predator lurking beneath the surface of calm waters. Something deep within me knows that he means what he says.

What’s even more unsettling is that I believe him.

“We should probably head back,” I whisper, standing and accidentally bumping into the makeshift table in my haste.

The metal of the lid and tray clash, but Xander’s hands are there to quickly quiet them. I stare at the way they are spread over the silver, golden-brown skin stretched over thin veins and broad fingers. “I will kill him.” No one had ever made a promise like that to me. My stomach lurches, and I lay a hand over it, hoping that might quell the strange sensation.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I breathe, offering what I hope is a believable smile. His brows draw together, but I’m already turning to walk towards the hidden door. Confusion melds with the guilt, and I try to brush it off as nothing more than foolish feelings from being locked up in this place for so long. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie. Focus. Focus. Focus.

“Let me walk ahead of you so that you don’t hurt yourself.” Opening the door, he lights a torch first before extending his hand out for mine.

This time, I don’t hesitate laying my fingers in his palm. That same jolt of warmth travels up my arm and settles exactly where it shouldn’t. My throat constricts, and I nearly miss the instruction he gives me to shut the door behind us.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course,” I murmur, fingers flexing against a callous. Had he gotten that from his sword? How had the years he’d been in the guard shaped this man? Beyond the physical…

Lifting my hand up to the rocky ceiling above me, I let the cool stone draw me out of my own head. Breathing deeply, I note that strange ancient scent again. Dust and old water mixing with something other. The flame flickers, and despite my attempts to keep myself in the present, I manage to trip over my own two feet. Xander’s hand closes more tightly around my own as he spins his body halfway towards me so that my shoulder crashes into the hard planes of his chest.

Looking up at him, blood rushes past my ears when our gazes connect. My fox purrs within me, the sensation so startling that my eyes widen in surprise. It draws an amused look from Xander, the reckoning he threatened earlier still present even though his gaze is softer. A handful of breaths pass like this, frozen in this strange tunnel, the air between us warm.

“Do you have your bearings?”

Pushing myself away, I assure him that I’m fine a little too aggressively. He doesn’t say anything in response, but the faster beat of his heart tells me that, perhaps, he isn’t as unaffected as he appears. Readjusting his hold on my hand, he turns, and we continue, each step bringing us towards a precipice I don’t know that I am ready for. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. He had lied. “I will kill him.” An uneasy breath flutters past my lips.

“Almost there.”

I nod, despite the fact that he can’t see me. The flame highlights the end of the tunnel, and then Xander is pressing on the door, opening to reveal the torture room. Quietly, we enter, Xander placing a finger to his lips as he listens for sounds coming from the dungeon itself.

“We’re good,” he says, gesturing for me to walk in front of him. Right, because we are going back to the cell. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie.

My steps are soft because of the socks, the whisper of noise in direct contrast with his booted steps. I glance down the hall in Immie’s direction, and for the quickest second, I wonder if I can pull my magic up fast enough to shift and dart away. But, in answer, my power merely flickers, slumbering wherever it is within me. And I can’t leave her here. No, my only chance is to get that key from Xander, lock him in here, and then Immie and I can escape through the tunnels.

I walk into the cell and turn to see him stopped just on the other side of the door, his hand already reaching for the keyring. Shit, I need him inside. Glancing around me, I see the pile of torn clothing and sprint towards it. “Wait, will you take these?” My voice shakes, and I clear my throat in the hope that he doesn’t notice. “They are torn from my shift.”

Xander holds his hands out, but his feet stay rooted in place just outside the cell.

I pretend to fumble them, as if four articles of clothing—two of which consist of undergarments—are somehow difficult to gather. This isn’t going to work. He’s going to lock me in this cell again, and the opportunity will be lost. Quickened breaths rock my chest. When would he plan to take me back to that hidden room? In a week? Month? Did Immie have that much time before she was tortured again? No. No, this needs to happen now. I turn my head to call out to him again over my shoulder as I lazily gather the clothes, but then his scent hits me, and his warmth is at my back, and suddenly, I’m stiff, my muscles freezing. Trusted. Alexi. Rhea. Immie.

“Here.” Taking the clothing from me in a quick motion, he piles them in his arms as I helplessly watch.

Do something, Siyala. I lay my fingers on his forearm, feeling the corded muscle there flex beneath my touch. I let my gaze travel gradually up his chest and past his neck, lingering on his lips before finally forcing it to his eyes. Trusted. Alexi. Rhe—

“Bella.” He says the word like a plea, and it pierces directly into my heart.

“That isn’t my name,” I rasp, pressing up onto my toes, balancing my weight with my grasp on his forearm. He grows preternaturally still, and my magic slithers along my spine, warming me from the tips of my toes to the crown of my head. Xander leans his head down, close enough that I can see the thick lashes that frame his dark eyes. Close enough that all that separates our lips is our own faltering abstinence.

“Then tell me what to call you.” His voice carries with it a seduction I’ve never heard before, and it skates across my skin, loosening my tongue before I realize what I’m doing.