I blink furiously as sudden tears come to my eyes.
What’s this?
I rarely cry. He protected me. This wasn’t what I’d expected… at all.
“How dare you…” Baron Solisar struggles under Kaithar’s knee, but it’s futile.
“Release His Lordship at once.” Negus has his sword out. He’s approaching slowly; tentatively, his expression telling me he really doesn’t want to do this.
Because he’s noticed the Tyronese soldiers that have materialized from the shadows; they’re standing against the walls, quietly watching the scene unfold.
And they’re all lean and hard-faced and dangerous looking; there’s an edge to them that our fighting men don’t have.
They’re all focused on Kaithar, as if waiting for him to just say the word.
But he doesn’t need to.
Because right then and there, a storm blows through the gates.
Icy wind swirls through the air, tugging and snapping at my hair, penetrating even my thickly lined coat. Specks of frost and snow fly into the air. For a fleeting moment, they shimmer like tiny diamond shards, before scattering into nothingness.
There’s a blur in front of me; a shadow, all black and crimson and pale, slowing and coalescing into solid form.
The wind dies away, leaving nothing but stillness.
And the shadow isn’t a shadow at all.
It’s a man.
“You!” I gasp, meeting familiar crimson eyes. The very same eyes have haunted my dreams these past few nights. They glow dangerously, just like they did when I first encountered him on that frozen road.
My breath hitches.
There isn’t a single shred of doubt left in my mind that I’m in the presence of magic.
The sun is behind him, casting a gentle shadow across his face, encircling his pale hair with a soft, ethereal halo.
His hair is loose and tousled, as if he’s just gotten out of bed. It’s gloriously long and lush, longer than even mine, reaching down past his shoulders.
It’s the color of pearls. Not quite pure white. Not quite as cold as the snow, or as luminous grey-white as the moon.
There’s a hint of golden in it.
Its softness contrasts with his alabaster visage; his chiseled, inhuman perfection, tempered only by the fullness of his lips, which are imbued with the faintest hint of dusky pink.
His expression…
No human is capable of looking at me with that kind of intensity.
I really don’t know whether he wants to devour me or kill me.
And I can’t move. Just like before, I’m unable to move even the tip of my finger as those terrible lips part to reveal the very same fangs that forcibly pierced my skin.
“Hello, Finley.”
My eyes go wide in disbelief.
He’s addressing me and only me.
He knows my name.
And his voice has the consistency of deep liquid silk, and the ability to momentarily trap me in its resonance, and I’m fighting against him; swimming against the tide of his overwhelming presence.
Gather yourself, Finley Solisar. This is not the time nor place to become smitten. Especially by one that you have no business being smitten with.
Ever.
I take a deep breath and try to summon some semblance of sanity.
I remind myself that we have an audience.
My father’s still on the ground, pinned by Kaithar, head pointed in the opposite direction. He can’t see us; can’t see the demon. There are soldiers all around us.
The big Vikurian wears a wicked grin, as if he’s been waiting for this.
What is going on?
My awareness of my surroundings shatters as my attention snaps back toward him.
Despite all my misgivings, I can’t help but stare.
He’s so still… and yet it feels like he could explode into violence at any moment.
He’s absolutely beautiful and utterly terrifying.
“Why are you here?” I ask, and even though I’m all fear and turmoil inside, my voice comes out sounding perfectly calm and even.
The pale demon reaches out.
The callused pads of his fingers gently graze my lower lip. They come away stained with a tiny smear of my blood.
He brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes it. My blood.
He closes his eyes. A visible shudder courses through him. He takes a deep breath.
Nobody dares move. Nobody says a word. Even Kaithar is quiet.
The demon turns away, glancing down at my father. “Restrain him and take him to the dungeons,” he says quietly, his voice colder than the winter snow outside. “I will deal with him personally.”
“Y-you can’t do this,” my father protests, his voice hoarse; filled with outrage and disbelief. “I am a member of the Rahavan nobility. Where is the Archduke Duthriss? I demand to speak with him at once.”
The demon makes a small gesture with his hand.
Kaithar leans in and whispers something soft and menacing in my father’s ear.
Father goes perfectly still. His men hang back, wisely reading the mood.
They’re outnumbered five to one. There’s nothing they can do here.
And the one commanding the situation with ridiculous ease is the man standing right before me.
He wields authority like a second skin.
Like he was born to it.
And his face…
Even though I have no idea who he is, now that I think about it, there’s a certain familiarity to his features. It’s jarring; as if some huge and obvious realization is about to hit me between the eyes, and yet my mind will not accept that answer.
It cannot be.
“Please, don’t kill him,” I say softly, sounding detached and emotionless. Because although my father is a cruel, petty fool, I don’t want him dead…
Do I?
The pale demon ignores my request. “Come with me, Finley Solisar.” His tone is stern and commanding; a whipcrack through the cold air.
Behind it, I sense fury, about to spill over.
My feet are frozen to the ground.
Why would I go with him? I don’t even know who he is.
Or what he is.
What if he’s…？
No. Impossible.
“And if I refuse?” My lips move before my brain has a chance to apply logic.
I hear Kaithar’s soft snort in the background. Irritation prickles through me. Is there anything the big guy doesn’t find amusing?
The pale demon glowers at me. “You can’t.”
It’s both a command and a desperate plea.
My head swims.
What would he do if I refused? Threaten to lock me in the dungeon with my father?
My feet, hitherto frozen, begin to move, even though my thoughts are still encased in ice. Something painfully obvious is staring me right in the face, and I don’t want to even begin to comprehend it.
I follow him.
Across the frost-burnished stone, past the soldiers, away from Kaithar and my father, who looks so pathetic and small.
I’ve never seen father like this before.
In Ruen, he’s the lord of his domain, the ultimate authority. His word is law, and he rules over us with an iron fist.
Here, he’s nothing.
These men of Tyron… they’re wild and hard and they care nothing for the laws of the empire.
And the one that wields authority over them is this inhuman stranger. Whether agent or servant or commander of the seemingly nonexistent Archduke Duthriss, I know not.
All I know is that he walks bloody fast, and I have to quicken my pace to catch up with him, and I can’t help but stare at his back; at his broad shoulders and lean, powerful physique.