Page 64 of Blood Ties

“Come to me,” he said. The words broke around the iron. “Don’t run. Keep your hands against your body and walk. The floor is slowing you, but it isn’t holding you. Take one step at a time and keep your eyes on me.”

I moved towards him.

Red light spread over the floor and wrapped around my ankles. Each step felt as if I were walking through deep water. The Crown followed above and behind me, silent now.

Stellan held the doors apart. Blood ran down the middle of his chest and darkened the open edge of his shirt.

“Let go. I can make the gap.”

“It’ll close faster if I release it. You have half the room left, and I can hold it that long.”

Blood ran faster down his chest.

His attempt at a smile failed. “You’re halfway here.”

I kept walking. The pull around my legs grew stronger as I passed the throne. A whisper filled the room, repeating my name until it became a steady sound without meaning.

Stellan’s gaze stayed fixed on me. He didn’t call me his queen. He didn’t tell me to trust him. He held the door and let me make the distance myself.

I reached the final few steps.

The Crown struck the back of my head with a burst of heat. My knees buckled, and my hand shot out towards the nearest solid thing.

The throne waited to my left.

Stellan tore one hand from the door and reached for me. “Bryony, take my hand.”

I lunged forwards and caught it.

His fingers closed around mine. The red light around my ankles broke. He pulled me over the threshold while I used his arm to stay on my feet.

The doors slammed against his shoulders.

Stellan shoved them back once, got me clear and released them. They crashed together between us and the Crown.

The whole court shook.

The chain at his throat dragged him away from me. His hand tore out of mine, and his back hit the sitting-room wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

I reached him as he slid down it.

“Stellan.”

He put one hand against the floor and tried to rise. His arm folded under him. The silver in his eyes had gone dull, and the red around his irises spread until almost none of the pale colour remained.

“Stay back for a moment.” His fangs had dropped. He turned his face away from my throat. “The fucking court took what I had left when I crossed the threshold.”

I crouched out of reach and looked at the iron. The collar had cut a deep line around the front and side of his neck. Blood ran steadily from it, too much for the wound to be closing.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad enough that I can smell your pulse from here. I can still control what I do with that information.”

His answer was calm. His body wasn’t. One hand shook against the floor, and the chain at his waist had pulled so tight that he couldn’t take a full breath.

“Can you get back to the throne?”

“Not without help, and I don’t want you near me until I’m certain the Crown is out of your head.”