“I should hope so. She’s been imprisoned for a very long time. I have no idea what state of mind she could be in.”
“No matter what state she’s in, I’ll make sure she’s safe and taken care of. Even if she despises us at first, she’ll come to understand that we’re different to the ones that sired us. I promise you, she will.” Corvan slips his arm around my waist and pulls me against him. He smells of leather and spice; of warmth and male, and he’s perfectly intoxicating. “Besides, you’re with me. I don’t see how she could possibly despise you. How could anyone despise you, Fin? If anything, I’d wager she’s been waiting for you. Imagine what Aralya could teach you, her own flesh and blood.”
At the mention of her name, the magic inside me ripples and dances, making my skin tingle, filling me with pent-up anticipation. There’s that feeling again; of pressure building inside me, with no way of finding release.
“I have a hunch for these things.” Corvan taps the side of his nose. “Battle-sense. You have all this pent-up magic inside you. I’ve seen how powerful it can be. And the trees themselves have chosen to speak to you. Imagine what’s going to happen when you encounter the one that gave you life.”
As the magic dances through my body, heightening everything—the feeling of his leather-gloved hands against my bare skin, the fragrance of winterlilies mingling with his unmistakable scent, the moonlight reflecting off his hard, elegant features—I can’t help but feel the truth of his words.
Even now, in the serenity of this small garden, life separated from death by mere glass and stone, I feel the hibernating trees and the dormant plants. A sound echoes in my mind; a low, resonant hum.
Oh my Goddess.
My heart swells with hope.
It’s good to see that Corvan’s regained his usual steely determination. It’s as if he’s buried his grief inside the box, the lid hiding his emotions under layers of strength.
I remember what he said earlier, when he was speaking with his father. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but certain things were impossible for me to un-hear.
It’s because of the magic in me. It makes everything more acute.
“Corvan?”
“Yes, Finley?
“I heard you say something before, to your father. That you’re going to… take the empire.”
A puff of exasperation escapes Corvan’s lips. “It wasn’t in my plans, but I fear I have no choice now. Ansar’s chosen a despicable path, and I can’t afford to let him consolidate his power.” All of a sudden, he looks contrite. “There isn’t anybody else that knows the empire my father built better than I. If Rahava is to survive and prosper, I don’t see any other alternative.” He takes my hand and plants a gentle kiss on the back. “All I ask is that you bear with me while I bring this chaos under control. I know being married to a bloody emperor wasn’t what you’d bargained for, but I swear, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you from the treachery of the court.”
A soft, incredulous laugh escapes me. He’s just so adorable like this; somehow apologizing for the fact that he’s about to seize power and fulfil his father’s grand plans for him—although I know he’ll do things his own way; he always does.
I can’t stop him. What he’s saying makes perfect sense. I’ve seen firsthand how he runs Tyron; how his men are still loyal to him despite the great transformation he’s undergone.
He regards me with the most earnest crimson gaze, his brow furrowing slightly. “What’s so amusing, hmm?”
“Well, I’d imagine that most eligible nobleborn ladies in the empire would be delighted to learn that they’re going to marry the future Emperor of Rahava.”
He frowns. “Well, you’re not most ladies.”
“And the possibility of you becoming emperor is the least of the surprises I’ve uncovered about you, isn’t it?” Still caught in his tender grip, I turn my hand around until my wrist is facing his lips. “I mean, it positively pales in comparison to the other truth I discovered about you, doesn’t it? I thought you relinquished the throne because you believed the people would never accept you as you are now.”
Corvan gently kisses the inside of my wrist. “You make a fair point, my love, but my reasons for stepping back weren’t entirely because of my transformation. Even before I changed, I was just sick and tired of the whole damn thing. I wanted to build something on my own, away from father’s machinations. And then I died, and the Goddess gave me life, and it made me all the more determined. The only difference now is that I have you, and if my dear brother and his mother’s family are dabbling in the Death Arts, they need to be stopped at all costs. I will not allow anyone to threaten our existence, so forgive me if I become a little overbearing.”
I savor the feeling of his lips; the anticipation of his thirst. “The only thing I object to is the fact that you feel like you have to always protect me from the court. When I learn how to manifest and control my powers—and I will—I should like to think that you wouldn’t have to protect me at all. But until then, by all means…” I caress the hard angle of his jaw. “Do whatever it takes.”
“I have your permission, then?”
I give him a wry look. “Since when have you ever had to ask permission for anything?”
“Since I realized I was in love with you.”
The ground falls out from beneath me. My legs turn to jelly. Warmth spreads through my chest.
For the first time in my life, I’m truly speechless.
And I’m pretty sure my cheeks are on fire. “C-Corvan…”
He smiles; a secret little smile laced with a hint of deviousness, because he knows the effect he has on me.
“May I, then?” He grazes his fangs across the unbroken surface of my skin. “On both counts?”
How is it that the simple act of him asking permission makes me want to swoon?
And although he’s dangerously charming as always, there’s a hint of vulnerability to him now that makes him all the more irresistible. As if he needs me now; like a balm, like a salve, against his father’s death and the terrible truths he’s just been forced to discover.
Who am I to deny him?
“You may,” I whisper, my voice cracking with emotion.
And he bites me gently, his razor-sharp fangs sinking into my skin, and apart from the faint bloom of pain at the beginning, there’s nothing but warmth and the thrill of his mouth against my wrist.
Everything fades to grey. For a moment, I’m aware of nothing but his decadent lips and fangs and the thudding of my own heartbeat in my ears.
The magic in me snaps and fizzles, a faint rippling sensation running down my forearms.
Then the world returns to me in stark relief, and the fractious magic in me yields to his thirst.
Everything goes quiet.
I let him take my essence, because he’s in need.
It feels so good when my magic is subdued by his. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of being so utterly wanted and cherished.
I feel at peace. He makes me feel this way.
And if he intends to tear the world apart and put everything in its right place for me, who am I to stop him?