“You probably wouldn’t want to go there.” The Kyanites wouldn’t exactly be welcoming to a Bloodstone. Especially one who was their prisoner.
“Probably not.” A myriad of emotions flare in her eyes before she banishes them with a smile that never moves beyond the curve of her lips.
“But if I did,” she says, her words barely audible. “How would I sneak in?”
“Why would you want that?” I shake my head.
“You’re right.” She glances at me and offers a strained smile. “I wouldn’t.”
“Quinn.” I stop her with a hand against her arm. “Is something amiss?”
“It is nothing.” Threads of sadness glimmer in her brown eyes as she swipes her fingers across her sweaty brow. “I am being foolish.”
The night she brought me wine threads into my thoughts. She had been so kind, friendly even. “Can I help you?”
“Nobody can.” Her words come out shaky.
The rest of the way to the palace, she doesn’t speak. Instead, she stares into the distance, her gaze locked, and her hands fastened against her narrow waist.
She nods when we reach the palace, then walks away, leaving me to my throbbing cheek and the memory of the attack.
I slip inside and move to the washing stand. Why did that man try to murder me like the blond-haired man? It makes no sense why someone wants me dead. Or maybe it does. Maybe they want to kill me for my magic.
I raise my arm to the sunlight filtering through the window and let out a quick breath. The hissing serpent mocks me, belittles me, rips apart the fabric of who I am.
I am Kyanite.
I have no desire to be anything else, yet this other part of me will not stay silent. It rears its ugly head repeatedly.
The door groans open, and Hector steps into our bedchamber. I keep my back turned to him. If he sees the mark on my cheek, he’ll have questions. If he doesn’t already have questions. He may have spoken to Luc.
Hector moves to stand behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“Hello, wife.” He nuzzles his mouth against the back of my neck. “Did you bring me some baked treats?”
Relax.
I exhale and try. As the gods are my witness, I try. But it’s impossible to stop the tremor that ripples down my back.
“Sol?”
The edge of the basin bites into my palms as I curl my fingers around it and squeeze.
His familiar scent sweeps over me as he turns me and lifts my chin.
Anger flares in his silver-blue eyes. “Who did this to you?”
“It’s nothing.” Weakness borders my words.
“It’s not nothing, Sol.” Fierceness echoes in his tone as he continues. “Tell me who did this, and I will end their miserable life.”
“I don’t know.”
Hector’s expression softens as he frames his hands on either side of my face. “Who did this to you?”
“I only know he was Bloodstone,” I whisper in a hoarse voice.
Tenderly, Hector brushes his knuckles across my bruised cheek. “I will find out who he is. Then, I will kill him.” The determination in Hector’s words engrave themselves into my heart.
