Chapter
Fourteen
Galantia Present day, Deepmarsh Castle, library
unlight filtered in through the colorful windows that lined two walls of the massive library, casting hues of green and blue across the tall white shelves. They formed a labyrinth ofS corridors, the air between them thick with the scent of old dust, yellowed parchment, and traces of leather.
I ran a finger over the black pigment of the feather image that decorated the page in the book before me and pulled my knitted green scarf higher. It matched my dress, warding off the strange draft that cut through the corridors. I began to read the paragraph before me out loud, each letter an intricately formed work of art.
In celebration of King Barat’s betrothal to Lady Elnora, King Omaniel of House Khysal flew to the city of Ammarett to deliver his well wishes. Clasped in his beak, he brought with him hair pins made of aerymel and shaped in the image of feathers. These, he gifted the future queen consort of the kingdom of Dranada, for indeed the two-blooded maiden had
revealed to be a Raven only months prior, when her gift of echo had finally presented after sixteen years of being believed to be human. When Lady Elnora thanked him, King Omaniel was forced to his knees by her voice. So taken was he by the sound of it—like notes strung together by the goddess herself and written into a melody of the life they ought to share by fate—he knew that he had, at long last, found his mate.
When I looked up at Sebian, he shook his head where he slouched in a chair across from me, his boots folded on the table. “You cannot tell me this is the first time you hear this story. Even if Tidestone rid itself of all these accounts, your father surely talked of these things?”
I sunk my head.
Maybe. Just not with me.
Never with me.
“But she was betrothed to King Barat,” I said, stating a fact that needed pointing out if one wanted to reach clarity on who was at fault. “Had she done her duty and wed him, our kingdoms would never have gone to war with each other.”
“That’s not how fate works, sweetheart.” Boots lowered to the ground, he straightened, giving a tap at his chest. “Imagine an invisible string tied around your heart, Galantia, right here beneath your ribs, tugging you toward your mate. You long for this person with an intensity that turns every second you are not united into agony. Ever heard the story of Prince Taragor of House Khysal?”
“I have,” I said quickly and perked up, relieved I finally knew something. “Insanity made him tie himself to an anchor, letting it pull him to the bottom of some harbor where his ravens drowned.”
“He wasn’t insane.”
“Of course not,” I groaned. “Enlighten me, then.”
“His father ordered that he take some highborn human to wife, even though he’d found his fated mate,” he explained. “When he refused on the grounds that he couldn’t possibly live through the ache of fate urging him to bond with her, his father had the girl burned. In his grief, Prince Taragor took his life, so he may be with her in death where he could not in life. That’s how we long for our mate once revealed. An established bond only amplifies it, along with the strength of our gifts when we are close to each other.”
My ribs curled into my heart. What would it feel like to be loved with such intensity? Such unequivocal fortitude that not even death could impose conditions? I wanted to experience such a
love so badly… “Did King Barat know of their fate?”
“Oh, he knew. From what Asker told me, Malyr’s father offered several coffers of aerymel to King Barat for the loss of his betrothed.”
“If the pull is truly that strong, why did the king go to war over it? And years after he married Queen Sarai instead?” I’d heard Father describe King Barat as impulsive, but that was still a far cry from plain stupid. “Bad blood flows between many houses.”
Sebian ran a finger over the gold-embossed spine of a book on the stack in front of him. “Why accept coffers full of aerymel if you can just invade the lands and take the mines?”
Dread knotted my stomach, solidifying the logic in his words before I managed to call him a liar.
Full body armor no heavier than a night shift, swords that could cut through thousands of enemies without dulling, ships light enough in the keel to navigate shallow waters… Aerymel was valuable.
Precious enough for this endless war to be based on a lie?
“There was… friction between King Barat and King Omaniel long before Lady Elnora,” Sebian
said. “One accused the other of putting too high a price on the metal, bleeding the royal coffers of Dranada dry to weaken them. Malyr’s father didn’t trust their alliance enough to allow for entire human armies to be equipped with aerymel armor and weapons.”
“And the kidnapping of Lady Elnora offered the perfect motivation for the banners to eventually rally to King Barat’s side.”
My own words chipped away on my gullibility one childhood tale at a time. What if they hadn’t started the war? What if we had? After the things Cici had told me? And this account? Malyr’s utter
hate for my family name? My kind?
It was possible. Plausible, even.
But was it true?
My gaze sunk to the smiling image of Queen Elnora, her dress shaded in the richest pigments of dark blue and ocean-green. “Between our accounts and yours, how can I be certain which one is true?”
“The History of the House Khysal.” Sebian pushed yet another book toward me and tapped at the name engrained into the leather at the bottom of its front. “Recorded by Talahel Surra, who also wrote…” He rummaged through the pile of books I’d brought to the table earlier, tossing them around until he grabbed the one bound in green silk, skimming through the pages with a grin curling his lips.
“Ah, here it is. Ravens who give their unkindness leave to feast on rodents’ carcass often find their guts to be infested with parasites. In such case, it is advised to clean the guts with a mash of pumpkin and ground moon nettle each day for a fortnight, so the parasites might be expelled through the passage of the rectum or vent.”
My entire body shuddered. “That’s disgusting.”
“I know! Not flattering to my kind, at all,” he said and shut the book. “You can’t tell me that a Raven who writes about intestinal infestation with such candor could possibly lie about King Omaniel.”
When I spotted how Sebian pouted, as though to contain laughter, I couldn’t stop from chuckling myself. “That’s not truly written in there, is it?”
“No. He talks of feather mites, which isn’t much better. Had them once as a fledgling… cannot recommend it.” Grinning, Sebian tossed the book on the table. “You said when we came here that you wanted to learn more about us.”
I bit down my grin. “About your magic, Sebian.”
“Ah.” He gave me a playful wink. “Let my ravens get that for you.”
In a burst of shadows that made my heart stop, he shifted into his unkindness and disappeared over shelves. I stared behind him, not knowing what to make of this Raven. How could someone be infuriating one moment and kind the next? Fickle bastard.
I rose and strolled along the wall of shelves, running my finger over dozens of spines. Blue silk.
Brown leather. Tooled details. Age-faded letters. Most books were written in the common tongue, though some contained the strange letters of what had to be Old Vhaer, telling stories I’d likely never
heard of. What if they were all true?
I didn’t want them to be.
Didn’t want my king to be a liar and my father his henchman. But wouldn’t it be foolish to believe the Raven who’d captured me? The daughter of an oathbreaker? The prince who wanted to hurt me?
My head ached from all these questions. And what was the point of agonizing over it? As the future queen of Dranada, I could hardly sympathize with my husband’s enemy.
No, I could not.
When I reached an empty gap where a book had been taken, movement on the far other side caught my eye. A strike of dread hit my stomach. Oh, merciless gods, what was he doing here?
Malyr set a stack of books on the table that stood in front of a massive window, dressed in a white shirt, the fine black corset vest he wore above it perfectly tailored and tied in the back. It brought out his straight posture, his broad shoulders, the way his trim waist tapered down. Someone so cruel shouldn’t be quite so attractive… That dread in my chest heightened when he lifted his head, freezing me in place. By sheer luck, he merely gazed into a corridor as though searching the shelves for a specific spine, then returned his attention to a book he’d opened in front of him. How long until he discovered my presence? Would pin me against a shelf and terrorize me, body and mind?
I quietly shifted and peeked right, toward the only door that led out of here a mere thirty steps away. It might as well have been a hundred, given how I had to cross the room right in front of him.
Sebian was nowhere in sight. Curses, this couldn’t get any worse.
Until the flapping of wings lured my gaze back through the gap, just in time to see Lorn shape beside Malyr, throttling my breaths into flat, paced gasps. How had she gotten there so quickly?
No matter.
This was decisively worse.
Malyr quickly shut the book he’d been reading, only to grab another and place it atop, flipping through its crinkling pages. “What is it?”
Lorn sat on the table, scooting through the boundary of his arm to position herself in front of him, all while running her fingers along his waist. “When I came to your chambers last night, I found the door locked, the windows shut, the flight holes closed.”
It was hard to tell from the distance, but it looked as though Malyr’s jaws tightened. “I was unwell.”
“Unwell…” That word came with a single breathed scoff as her fingers glided lower. “You’ve been feeling unwell a lot lately.”
“Which is precisely why I have come here since the healers can find nothing wrong with me.
Certainly, there is an answer to be found within these pages where my own leave me wanting. If only you wouldn’t be sitting on the book I intended to read.”
“You mean the one you hurriedly closed when I came?” Lorn shifted on her buttocks, but instead of reaching for the book she sat on, she pulled out the one beneath, and held it up between them.
“Delos’ta lay.”
Delos’ta… what? What did that mean?
Malyr grew still. “Lorn, I—”
Lorn’s other hand shot up, slapping Malyr’s cheek with such force, it turned his head. She lifted her chin so provocatively high, my stomach sank under the weight of vicarious fear. He would kill her. Which should have pleased me, but, at that moment, I couldn’t deny a sliver of envy for the guts of this woman.
Malyr rolled his shoulder, letting a bone crack as he righted his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared her down. “You dare strike your prince?”
“You’re no prince to me.” Lorn moved that hand she kept between his legs, touching him there until he moaned. “You’re just a little Raven boy.”
Malyr’s features distorted until he barred his teeth. “Stop.”
“Mmm, you don’t have to pretend with me, Malyr. I know all your secrets. Know that this gets you hard, no matter how you want to deny it.” Lorn quickly undid his breeches, shoving them down just
enough for her hands to reach around his buttocks where they seemingly kneaded, fondled, pulled the firm flesh apart, and… something else I couldn’t make out, but it lured one masculine groan after another from him. “Pretty little Raven boy.”
Malyr gripped her throat, his entire body trembling enough not even the distance could hide it. “I
said, stop!”
“Pretty Raven boy.”
Shadows flared up around him. “Shut up!”
A gurgling, scratching laugh escaped her throat as she slapped him again. “Make me, pretty boy.”
“Shut your mouth, Raven whore!” In one quick move, Malyr pulled her off the table by her throat, spun her around, and pushed between her shoulder blades until her chest flattened on the table. He yanked her breeches down, rousing a quiver between my thighs. “That’s what you are, isn’t it? A filthy whore.”
“Yes…” Lorn moaned and arched her back, offering herself up. “Same as you, pretty Raven— augh!”
Malyr thrust into her with such force, a book fell from the table and hit the ground with a deafening thud. “I fucking hate you.”
He gripped her long black hair, yanking it until Lorn’s chest lifted from the table. Suspended by her strands, every jab of his hips ripped a breathed whimper from her, his narrowed eyes consumed by fury and contempt.
The sight chilled my skin with terror while heating my belly with longing. It was horrifying to watch. Terrifyingly raw, uninhibited, and sensual, making me shiver with something other than fear.
Something so intense, heat rolled through me, overwhelming my senses with a nervous thrill.
Lorn clawed at the table. “Is that all you’ve got?”
“I told you to shut up.” Malyr gave a harsh tug on her hair with one hand, only to slap her cheek with the other before he dug two fingers into her mouth, pulling the flesh until she moaned in pain or arousal or both. “Shut up and take it like the whore you are, or I’ll fuck that foul mouth of yours.”
I trembled for breath, knowing I was witnessing something beyond my comprehension. It upset me… it aroused me. Of the two, I didn’t know which one was worse. Should I turn away? Should I watch? What if— A hand sealed over my mouth and lips just as the faintest whisper tickled against the shell of my ear. “Shh… not a sound, sweetheart.”
I panted into Sebian’s palm, faster when his other hand slipped beneath my skirts. His fingers trailed up along my thigh, brushed over my hip, and dove between my legs, making me squirm.
“Shh…” he once more hushed as a featherlight tickle brushed over my curls. “Does this arouse
you, sweetheart? Watching Malyr fuck?”
I shook my head.
It didn’t.
It couldn’t!
“Yes, it does.” The torment of his fingers slipped lower as he stroked over my cunt, circling their tips around my drenched entrance. “Goddess help me, you have no idea the kind of scent you’re giving off right now, Galantia. It’s driving me insane, that wetness between your thighs.” He wiggled the tip of his boot between my feet, forcing them apart. “Spread your legs, sweet thing.”
Body still quaking, I stood no chance at fighting the way he pried my thighs apart. “No…”
“Shh…” His hand squeezed my mouth tighter. “You don’t want Malyr to find you here, do you?”
Heart racing, I shook my head once more.
“No, you don’t want that, sweetheart; trust me. He’d be furious. Outraged.” His fingers continued their torturous workings on my cunt with increasing pressure. “Are you going to be so still for me, Galantia? Hmm? Are you going to be a good girl and be so quiet?”
The heat he caressed into my clit made my breaths tumble behind the unyielding prison of his fingers. My nostrils sucked in air at double speed, pulling the familiar scent of herbs and leather deep into my chest. It imprisoned my senses, jumbled my thoughts.
The moment I wanted to look back at him, beg him with my eyes to stop, he held my face in place.
Made certain my gaze remained straight on the gap, so I may watch how hard Malyr hammered into Lorn, groaning and grunting, slapping her face, calling her a whore. Degrading her.
He treated her worse than me.
Why?
“You enjoy watching him about as much as you enjoyed his shadows playing with your cunt and his knife cutting into your tongue,” Sebian whispered. “Which is pretty fucking deranged, but I’m not one to judge… We’re all a bit broken here.”
We’re all a bit broken here.
His words struck deep, but not as much as knowing that he might be right. Maybe I was deranged.
Why else would I arch my back and rock against his fingers, chasing that excruciating edge that simmered nearby?
“Fuck, the way you’re offering is something I love to hate right now. You’re so wet, I could easily slip in there, but, apparently, that’s off limits. Come against my fingers, sweetheart.”
Fingers that tapped against my hard bud, tantalizing my lower belly into a knot of heat. My toes curled, my skin pebbled.
“That’s it, sweet thing, you’re so fucking close,” Sebian whispered, keeping the motion of his fingers steady, making the intensity crest. “Give into it. Come for me, Galantia.”
I threw my head back against his chest as every muscle in my body pulled tight. His hand captured my moan. Heat crashed down on me like a wave, washing away the ferocity of it, leaving nothing behind in the wake of my trembling being but utter… bliss.
“That’s my good girl,” Sebian crooned into my hair as a gentle warmth settled on my body, turning me sluggish. “Shh… calm your breathing. We have to be so quiet.”
My gaze focused on Malyr, who was alone once more. He stared down at the books. But only until he grabbed the edge of the table, lifted it up, and let it crash with a furious shout while the books thudded to the ground. He shifted into his ravens, then flew off and disappeared from my vision.
Sebian wrapped his arm around my belly from behind. “Did you like that, sweetheart?”
Had I?
My mind was too stunned to make sense of any of this. Was I supposed to be angry at him for how he’d touched me without my permission, or thankful for how he’d made me feel? Was I flattered?
Ashamed?
I didn’t know. I simply pushed through his arm, nearly tripping over my own feet as I bolted out of the library.
