“Someone always complains about a rule being broken. For a fair ruling, our deeds are rewatched, examined, and picked apart.”
Okay. Yeah. That made sense. She’d bet her life Erebus demanded to view that replay every time he’d lost.
Roux continued, “I’m drawn into the echoes of the slain to experience their last moments alive. If I remain silent until the cycle is complete, I am successful. If I make a sound, any sound at all, I fail.”
“And what is the purpose of such a task?”
“To break me, I suppose. And it’s almost worked. The prisoners in my mind usually escape from the start, the noise as tormenting as everything else. Things get...jumbled for me.”
Yawning, she snuggled closer. The trials of the day must have caught up with her. Fighting to stay awake, she smoothed a hand over his shoulder, petting him, offering comfort. “You’ve mentioned the prisoners before. Who or what are they, exactly?”
A moment passed. Then he said, “Tomorrow is a big day, and my harphantom needs her rest.” He kissed her temple, more of his heat enveloping her. “Sleep, Lyla.”
For some reason, she obeyed, letting herself drift off.
Hours later, a cozy, well-satisfied Blythe opened her eyes and stretched sore muscles, inadvertently rubbing against her deliciously ferocious Astra.
“There you are,” he said, gliding his thumb over her jaw.
“What time is it?” she asked.
He kissed her brow. “Time for you to go back to the palace.”
“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a slice of chocolate cake first. Or the whole cake.” Well, well. Her sweet tooth was officially back in business. “Probably best to acquire two, so I don’t have to fork you for attempting to steal a bite of my dessert after I’ve stolen multiple the bites of yours.”
“I will bring you all the cakes upon my return.” He gently disentangled his limbs from hers and stood, leaving her lying on the ground, suddenly keenly aware of the cool breeze and setting sun.
The sky was a haze of dark blues and muted golds, a breathtaking scene as Roux gathered his clothing. “Return from where?”
“Wraith Island,” he intoned with his back to her, sliding into his leathers.
“I’m going with you,” she informed him. Fully awake now, she popped to her feet and tugged on her garments.
“Fine,” he replied, surprising her with the ease of his agreement. “I believe there’s a firstone weapon hidden within. You can search for it while the wraiths are otherwise occupied.”
Uh... He was trusting her with firstone? “Look. I kind of know there’s a firstone dagger hidden within Penelope’s domain. Because I brought it, and she stole it.”
The muscles in his shoulders bunched before he tugged his shirt overhead. “Will you strike at me while we’re here?”
Okay. Fair question. Highly deserved. “I told myself I wouldn’t, and I do plan to help you, but I don’t know. Maybe, if you made me mad enough,” she said, securing her own top in place. Hey! Frowning, she examined her arm in the dwindling light. “Am I glittering?”
She was! And just as brightly as Taliyah did after Roc—Blythe jerked her gaze to Roux just as he pivoted to face her. His expression switched from chagrined to prideful.
“About that.”
“You marked me as yourgravitaand didn’t inform me the second it happened?” She jerked on her skirt, then her boots, reeling. He’d claimed her. Roux the Crazed One had officially, eternally claimed her as his fated mate. And now, everyone would know it.
“I considered telling you. And planned to. Later. Which is now,” he told her, cautious as he finished strapping on his weapons. “I was kind of busy when it happened.”
What was she supposed to even do with this information? Preen? Sob? What did this mean for her? For Isla?
Blythe was the sole being in all of history that Roux couldn’t live without. The female he craved above all others. The one herequired. An honor Laban had never given her. Not his fault, of course. Manticores didn’t possess fated mates. They tended to jump from one companion to another. Something Blythe had feared in the beginning. But time and time again, Laban had proven his love for her. His utter devotion. And most days, she’d told herself the lack of a reciprocal meant-to-be connection hadn’t bothered her. But deep down, she’d been troubled.
To share more with Roux...
She continued to examine her arm. The stardust was admittedly lovely.
“Don’t try to wipe it off,” Roux grated.