Page 90

“Maybe not.” The amusement was back in his eyes—but also something harder. Flintier. “But I won’t let him break you.”

Hope cracked my heart open, painful and terrifying. “I’m not a good person,” I whispered. “You don’t understand.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, “You deserve to be protected. You deserve to be safe. If you were so terrible, you wouldn’t be standing out here in the cold, hating yourself for what you’ve become, hating everything about the life you lead.”

I looked up at him, heart thudding.

“You matter. More than he ever will. More than you think.”

The more he spoke, the more I was at risk of believing him.

Then the moment was broken. Something flickered across his face. “I’ll walk you back to the castle.”

Before I could respond, he’d stepped forward and taken my arm, his fingers closing around my elbow without asking. “It’s slippery,” he remarked, as if this were mere courtesy. As if his touch wasn’t burning through to my skin like a brand.

I could have pulled away, but I didn’t. We walked on in silence for a few paces, the sound of the waves slowly receding behind us.

“Well, Avari,” I said lightly, breaking the silence, “when can we expect the announcement of your own triad? I suppose your grandmother is shoving a line of pretty debutantes your way.” It was the worst possible choice of topic. And yet something in me wanted to pull at the wound, rip it open, and pour in salt. Wanted to try to hurt him before he could hurt me. Still, I’d expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. Not even a twitch.

Instead, he shocked me by saying. “So you’ve heard, then.”

“Heard what?” He suddenly wouldn’t meet my eyes. My body clenched. “It’s Medra, isn’t it.”

“Medra?” His eyebrows shot up. “Medra Pendragon is a friend, an ally. Nothing more.” He shook his head. “No, I meant heard about the ball.”

I blinked in confusion. “The ball? What ball?”

He hesitated. I felt his fingers tighten. “A ball to announce my betrothal.” The words scraped out of him.

I froze, shock coiling in the pit of my stomach. “You’re … betrothed?”

“It was arranged only very recently.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before.”

I latched onto that word. Arranged, not chosen.

I forced a laugh. “Why would you apologize? You don’t owe me a thing. So who is the lucky highblood?” I said, making my voice bright. “Anyone I know?”

He hesitated, then met my gaze—his eyes pleading with me to understand. “Florence Shen.”

I kept my face steady. “The new dragon rider. She’s bonded to Nyxaris. Of course, what an excellent match. Your grandmother must have selected her for you.”

He nodded slightly, the motion wooden. “She did.”

“Lady Avari is nothing if not pragmatic,” I said, trying to keep the bitterness from my voice. “What a lovely couple you’ll make.”

“Florence needs my protection.” His voice cracked on the last word, as if it hurt him to say.

I froze.

“The protection of my house,” Kage added, a moment too late.

“Of course she does,” I said coldly. “And I’m sure you take your responsibility towards her very seriously. How sweet of you to provide your protection.” I gave a hollow laugh—making sure to fill it with a hint of cruelty. “And how wonderful for you, House Leader, to gain a dragon for your family’s honor. Why, it seems you’re just as much a pawn as the rest of us.”

Something in me was tearing apart like wet parchment, yet I bared my teeth in a smile anyway. I couldn’t stop imagining it. Scenes flashing in my head. Florence Shen in his arms. Her name on his lips. His hands upon her naked body as she lay in his bed. Would it be her first time when he entered her? Would she cry out his name, grateful and adoring?

I closed my eyes, hating the visions, hating myself for caring at all. Then I yanked my arm free from his grasp, turning aside, needing to flee before the pain in my chest turned into something that showed on my face.

Kage’s hand shot out, catching my arm—more roughly this time. “Regan.”