The thunder shook her room.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. He’d removed his royal garb and was wearing a loose white night tunic. Aydra’s jaw tensed.
I am here, her raven called to her from the window. If you need me.
Wait for me, Aydra whispered incomprehensibly back to it.
Rhaif’s eyes darted from the raven to her upon hearing the noise, and he huffed amusedly under his breath.
“What do you want, Rhaif?” Aydra asked in a soft voice she didn’t recognize.
He finished turning his sleeves, and then he shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging slightly and allowing his fluffy black curls to fall over his eyes. “Simply answering your cry for attention,” he told her.
The noise in her ears turned to ringing.
“My cry for attention?” she repeated. “If I ever cry for attention, it is not meant for you.”
He almost looked upset at her words, and his bottom lip pouted just so. “That hurts, sister,” he said softly. “You know I would never do anything that you didn’t want.”
“And what exactly is it you think I want?” she managed.
A small smile curled on his lips, and he walked over to her fireplace, taking the poker out and taunting the fire in its depths. “This new title is getting to your head, I think,” Rhaif said. “My men are beginning to question me.”
She watched the fire poker glowing red hot in his hand, and she felt her weight shift. “Your men were useless this week,” she replied.
“Are you saying they disobeyed me?”
“I am saying they did not believe the Venari simply because of who he is and thus had no regard for his warnings. They did not search that beach. I watched them half the night.”
Rhaif’s brows raised, and he turned back to face her. “And here I was under the impression by your screams that you were otherwise pre-occupied that night.”
Aydra’s jaw tightened. “Something you’d like to get off your chest, brother dear?”
—His arm was around her throat.
He’d moved so quickly, she hadn’t seen his shadow cross behind her. She choked on her own breath as his forearm pressed against her trachea, his body firmly flush against her back. He grabbed her other arm before she could move and yanked it back, nearly popping it out of joint. Her hands grasped at his firm forearm around her neck.
“Rhaif—”
The lightning flashed again outside her window.
“Did you think you would get away with the stunts you’ve pulled this week?” Rhaif hissed in her ear. “Did you think you could mock me and undermine my authority without punishment?”
Thunder rumbled.
Her raven cried out for her.
She wriggled against his grasp, but his skin was heating beneath her flesh, and her insides convulsed at what she knew would come next. She closed her eyes and felt for her raven at the window, willing her subconscious out of its body. She allowed the raven’s core to consume her thoughts and mind.
If only for a few moments—
Smack!
Rhaif’s hand seared across her face, and she blinked back into herself, realizing she was somehow on the floor, robe disheveled. She saw his feet come into view, and she looked up through her strangled curls to see him standing over her, shirt removed to reveal the taut skin against his trimmed torso. His hands blackened, and the color grew up his skin like spiderwebs embedded in his golden flesh. His eyes blazed literal fire, and the blue flame curled into life on his muscles.
The true form of the Promised King.
“I know you’ve figured out how to escape your body to one of your pets,” he said in a low tone. “Not tonight. Tonight, you will remain here when I punish you for what you’ve done.”
The swell of angered tears rose in her eyes, and she felt herself shaking. “You’re just like him—”
Smack!
Aydra shook off the sting of his hand and pushed up on her hands again. “We promised we would be different from them—Better—”
“We are better—”
“Then explain to me how your threatening me with fire is any different from what Vasilis did to Zoria? To me?”
Rhaif stopped his advance and stared down at her. His head tilted, and he crouched down slowly in front of her.
“Because Zoria never asked to be punished,” he said slowly. “And you have done everything you can so that you will be.”
She balked. “You think I ask to be punished—”
“You have begged every day this past fortnight for this,” he cut in. “Embarrassing me in front of the Council. Calling my men useless and galavanting off with the Venari of all people. Blatantly disregarding my requests and taking our brother on quests you should have left up to Belwarks to begin with. Do you know the Council actually asked for you to be subdued?”
“Their fear is not my problem.”
“Admit it, sister. You have craved for this moment. You want this.”
“No one wants this,” she managed.
He reached out towards her, his gaze softening as his thumb brushed her cheek. “And you were doing so well, too,” he mused softly.
She flinched at his touch, and then spat in his face. “You’re vile,” she said in a shaky voice. “Despicable—”
He wiped the spit from his eye, and she felt her breaths begin to quicken once more. The right corner of his lips quirked upwards, and his eyes traveled deliberately over her body.
“Scream for me.”
His hands grabbed her ankles and the pain of fire searing into her flesh caused an unwanted shriek to emit from her lips. She grabbed for anything—the bed, the ground, the rug— but to no avail. He pulled her backwards and hoisted her body up over his shoulder. His skin burned her, and all she could do was will herself not to scream, completely paralyzed by the pain of his flesh
