He frowns. “Do you really think that?”
“You have power, Corvan. And you are no demon. Danger, chaos, and misery are as innate to the world as the night. Do not allow fear to become resident in your heart. Seek out the strong; those that refuse to enact the script Master Fate has written for them. Better yet, become one of them.”
I quote a book I found in father’s small library. It was one of the many volumes he brought back from the capital to fill his shelves when I was a young child. Amongst the nobility, it’s fashionable to have a library filled with scholarly titles, even if those books sit gathering dust.
At least, until I learned to read.
“On Power by Owasus,” Corvan exclaims, his smile filled with surprise and delight; sudden innocence making him seem almost childlike. “He’s one of my favorite philosophers. You read the classics, then?”
“I like to read,” I say softly. “But I didn’t know that title was a classic. I just thought it was full of useful advice. Especially for a girl entering the cusp of womanhood, with nobody to guide her and the specter of a forced marriage looming in her future. I always worried that one day, I’d have to run a household. And without adequate training or experience, I figured a book about power was a good place to start.”
Corvan chuckles. “You’re much wiser than you give yourself credit for. Does marriage still feel like such an imposition to you?”
I shake my head. “No…”
“Good.” He raises my hand and leans in, planting a gentle kiss on the back of my hand.
His mouth is warm and gentle. His touch is like magic, sending a surge of wild energy through me. All of a sudden, I want his lips on mine.
“Come, Finley. It’s time to announce our existence to the world.”
26
CORVAN
I open the frosted glass door and lead Finley into the great hall, watching her intently as she steps across the threshold. The golden glow of the gas lamps reflects off her dark hair, catching highlights of red and gold.
She’s put her hair up. She looks effortlessly elegant. Several strands escape from her updo, gracing her face. The elegant column of her neck taunts me; I want to wrap my hand around it, to run my fingers up and down… to put my lips on her just above the part where her pulse flutters delicately.
She’s wearing the earrings I gave her. Pear cut and brilliantly faceted with hundreds of planes and angles to catch the light, the deep red color perfectly suits her sun-burnished complexion and her dark, intelligent eyes.
They’re fire-grade rubies from the mountain heart of Pervasha, close to the Vikurian border. They are exceptional—finding a pair so perfectly identical and brilliantly hued is next to impossible. There probably isn’t another pair like this in all of the empire.
It pleases me immensely to see her wearing my jewels.
The warmth of the hall surrounds us as I gently close the door behind her.
“Allow me to take your coat,” I say quietly, having the sudden urge to act like the perfect gentleman.
She glances over her shoulder, eyes gleaming, a ghost of a smile on her lips and a hint of a blush suffusing her cheeks. “Thank you, Corvan.”
“My pleasure.” She makes me want to behave like a gentleman, which I certainly am not. Standing behind her, I place my hands on her shoulders and gently remove her coat, draping it over my arm. It’s made from the luxurious fur of a snowebeest; a rare monster I killed when we were coming down the mountain.
Newly turned and desperate at the time, I drank its blood too, and tasted its raw, savage power.
For the first time, I catch sight of Finley in her chosen attire.
I take a deep breath, digging my fingers into the soft pelt as I inhale a tendril of her intoxicating scent.
To put it simply, she’s everything I could have hoped for, and more.
I can’t believe my luck.
She’s foregone a gown in favor of a smartly tailored deep blue pantsuit. The trousers accentuate her taut little ass. The jacket nips in at her waist, making me want to put my hand on that delicate little curve.
My gaze drops to her legs, where long burgundy leather boots encase her toned calves.
The sight of them nearly sends me to my knees. Arousal hits me hard, and it takes all of my self-control to keep a straight face.
The fight ring has been set up on the other side of the hall. The contenders are warming up; bare-chested, wearing loose trousers designed for freedom of movement.
They’re my soldiers—with the hardened physiques of warriors and the scars to match. Their bodies might be strong, but many of them hide fractured minds.
This kind of thing—it helps.
My attention snaps back toward Finley. Beneath her thin veneer of calm, she’s skittish. I can hear it in the rapid patter of her heart. I can see it in the tense lines of her body.
Father, did you really not know how perfect I would find her?
Silently, I curse him. Because before I left him in Lukiria, when he was urging me to stay by his side, I threatened to kill him if he ever tried to meddle in my affairs.
He saw the power I suddenly had at my disposal, and he wanted to use me.
“Corvan, these new powers of yours aren’t a curse, they’re a gift.”
He might have arranged this marriage, but I will viciously and savagely fight to protect Finley from the toxicity of the Rahavan Court.
My father and my brother included.
And hopefully, with time, she will learn to trust me.
I glance around the room, observing my men as they filter in. A decent crowd is starting to gather—both soldiers and servants alike. Kaithar stands at the edge of the ring, wearing the black officiating suit of a military games referee. He’s watching the entrants like a hawk, his expression severe, his powerful arms folded.
With Kaithar around, they’ll know not to try any dirty tactics.
Nobody messes with the Commander of the Black Eagles.
We make our way across the floor. I move closer, swapping the pelt to my other arm, putting my hand on the small of her back.
She doesn’t resist.
For the first time in my life, I know the feeling of extreme possessiveness.
I make sure everyone sees us as I guide Finley to the banquet area. At the far end, one table is set up for myself and my chosen guests. Two chairs in the center stand out from the others. The high backs are carved with the motifs of Tyron. Round, plump tansem berries nestle in thorny vines that twist around wide-bladed broadswords. The blades taper down toward the floor, forming the back legs of the chairs.
On either side, scaled dragon claws rise above the swords, forming the backrest, holding the finials—a pair of smooth orbs. The black dragon is the symbol of Tyron—the most fearsome beast known to man. According to the myths, the black dragon nests in the highest peaks of the Khatur Mountains.
The myth is seeded in truth.
I should know.
I killed the damn beast, and it killed me.
I escort Finley toward the chairs. She looks up at me, frowning.
I bend down and whisper close to her ear, inhaling the sweet-scented fragrance of her hair. I’m still aroused. “For the Lord and Lady of the castle. I’m not big on pomp and ceremony, but we should have something to distinguish ourselves, don’t you think? And maybe when he sees this, your father might understand the situation a little better.”