Page 17 of The Crowned Queen

“I will.” Kai’s voice cracked, his eyes wet as he looked up at Loren from the ground. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get her out. I swear, Loren. I didn’t want to do it. I know you don’t believe me, but…she’s my friend.”

“Some friend.” Loren pressed his lips together, looking away. “Go. Do whatever it is they expect of you. But if you betray us—” he let the sentence hang, the temperature around them plummeting so suddenly that ice cracked across the nearest puddle. “I’ll kill you myself, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Chapter

Five

“Easy, Starling.”

Araya shuddered, soft silk sheets rasping across her brutalized flesh like sandpaper. Jaxon’s hands were on her, spreading something cool and wet on her raw, over-sensitive skin. It stung, then burned, sinking into the marks Kai had carved into her body.

“Shh.” His touch skimmed her collarbone. Her cheek. Brushing her tears away. “It’s all over now, Starling. You did so well.”

Araya jerked her head to the side. “Don’t,” she rasped, the word thick with the taste of blood.

“Don’t what?” His touch followed her, tracing her jaw before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Hurt you? I would never. Not unless you make me.”

Lie. Lie, lie, lie⁠—

Araya laughed, the sound tearing from her chest in a broken sob. She rolled onto her side, wrapping her arms around her knees like she could shield herself from whatever came next. Everything hurt. Every breath a reminder of how they’d pinned her down—how they’d strapped her to the table and cut into her flesh, scarred her body with iron and magic until the only thing she knew was pain and terror.

“Shh, none of that.” Jaxon knelt beside the bed, his palm smoothing over her hair, down the curve of her shoulder. “You’re safe, Starling. I’ve got you.”

He drew her into his arms, tugging her against his chest. She was too weak to fight him, her head falling against the soft linen of his shirt as he pressed soft kisses to her hair.

“It’s all right, Starling,” he murmured. “Do you remember what I told you? You’re mine, and I take care of what’s mine. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Araya squeezed her eyes closed as he manhandled her body, positioning her the way he wanted. Some distant part of her realized she was naked, her skin slicked with her blood and his. Her fingers twitched, desperate to cover herself—but her body wouldn’t answer her commands. Her head lolled back against the pillow, her mind spinning as Jaxon draped fresh linen over the throbbing wound between her breasts.

“Almost there,” he murmured. “You’ve been so strong, Starling. So good for me.”

The words washed over her, meaningless through the fog closing in. He moved around her, the air of the room cool against her fevered skin. She shuddered, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as soft warmth swaddled her from head to toe.

“There,” Jaxon said softly, tucking the blanket in under her chin. “See? Better already.”

Araya kept her eyes squeezed closed. If she didn’t look, she didn’t have to admit it was happening—not even to herself. But she could still hear. The quiet thud of his shoes as he kicked them off by the door. The rustle of fabric as he undressed. His bare feet padding across the soft carpet to the other side of the bed.

“Sleep, Starling.” The mattress dipped beside her, his lips brushing feather-light across her temple. “You’re home now.”

Araya woke to the deep, even sound of Jaxon’s breathing. His arm slung across her waist, heavy in sleep, his body pressed close enough that she could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against her back. For a split second, she sank into it. How many mornings had she woken just like this, safe and warm in his arms?

And the whole time, Loren had been in iron, right beneath her feet.

The illusion shattered.

This was the same man who had tortured Loren and forced her to heal him—who had pinned her down and drained her power, leaving her broken and crying on the floor. He had slaughtered twenty-three fae females and tossed their bodies into the Shadowed Sea for no reason other than they bore a passing resemblance to her.

“Starling?” Jaxon stirred against her back, his voice rough with sleep. “You need to rest. Go back to sleep.”

Araya forced herself to still, counting each breath and willing her heartbeat to slow. She could feel every inch of him—his hand splayed across her ribs, the faint scrape of stubble against her bare shoulder. Every muscle ached, her flesh throbbing where they had cut into her.

But there was no cold weight at her wrists. No suffocating collar around her throat. For the first time since they’d dragged her back to the Shaws’ estate, she was unbound.

“I need the bathing chamber,” she whispered.

Jaxon made a low sound of protest, his arm tightening briefly around her before he sighed and rolled onto his back. “Do you need help?”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “I can manage.”