Page 38 of Embers of Ruin

“Call me Thorin. You don’t address me as Your Majesty.” His eyes soften as they roam my face.

“I—Your Maj⁠—”

He places his fingers at my lips to silence me as his fingers begin to trail my bottom lip, then down the side of my neck, the softest caress that has ever touched my skin. I’ve only had one lover in Elvora, Simon, and his touch dulls in comparison to the traitorous way my body reacts to Thorin’s touch. He pulls back, eyes searching mine as his fingers trail down to my throat and lower, nearing the swell of my breasts that are visible in the fitted gown.

“Thorin. You will call me Thorin.”

I’m flushed, hot, confused. The way I respond to him is unnatural. It’s like a pull that I can’t resist, but I want to resist it.

“What do you want from me, Thorin?” I ask softly, running my finger over my bottom lip where his finger had lingered.

“I want you to stop lying to me.” He places his hand around my neck, his grip gentle as he stares into my eyes. Every instinct tells me to shove him away. My body seems intent on betraying every one of them. I want to kill him. My body wants to feel him crushed against me. What in Illurine’s name …

“I’m not lying.” I spit out once my ragged breathing has evened out. I’m lying. I know it, and I’m sure he knows it too. That won’t stop me from denying it. The warmth that lingered in his eyes a few moments ago is gone, and the stoic, expressionless king is back.

“Are you afraid?”

I laugh once, humorless. “Of you? Astounding observation. The entire continent is terrified of you.”

“You have many things wrong about me, Lyra Tarethyn,” he continues, letting his hand drop to his side.

His voice lowers as he moves close enough to my face that I can feel his breath on my skin, smell the sweet mint and honey on his breath. “You are afraid of what happens when you stop pretending you are ordinary. You can hide from everyone else, Lyra, but I see you. I know what you are.”

In this moment, I hate Thorin, I hate him for seeing too much. I hate him for what he’s done. And I hate that, despite my obvious hatred for him, I can’t seem to deny the pull that is obviously between us.

“You know nothing about me.” I snap, taking a step back to look up at him.

“Do you not heal the dying in Elvora? You masquerade as a healer, but you are so much more.”

My blood goes cold. How would he know that?

“I know you have spent your life hiding something that does not wish to remain hidden.”

I take another step back, but shadows slide across the path behind me, curling into a dark line at my heels, blocking my exit. My heart begins to pound and now I feel genuine terror. How funny that emotions can switch like that—one moment I want his hands on my body, the next I am terrified that he will hurt me.

“Move your shadows,” I command, squaring my shoulders and staring at him.

“I will not. You will get used to them soon enough.”

“Thorin—”

His name leaves my mouth before I think better of it and the shadows stir. For one dangerous second, the air changes. His gaze sharpens, and satisfaction flickers behind his eyes before vanishing beneath that cold, unreadable mask. I wish I could snatch the name back and swallow it whole but it’s too late.

“It is simple. Use your magic.” His voice is cold and steely, leaving no room for refusal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why do you think you hold any power here?”

“Because you want me to do something for you. Something that I can’t do. So that gives me the ability to say NO.”

The shadows rise higher behind me, enough to make the point clear. He’s not asking. Not really. The knowledge sends fury tearing through my chest, bright and hot enough that my fingers tremble.

“You think forcing me will help?” I snap. “Is that how kings solve everything? A command, a cage, a shadow at someone’s back?”

His jaw tightens at that. Good. Let him be as pissed off as I am right now.

“You believe this is cruelty?” His question seems genuine.