“Less than a year,” I tell him.
“Hmm?”
“Less than a year ago, I hated you.”
He stills at that, letting the truth settle in. “Did you truly hate me, though?” he whispers. “Or did you just convince yourself of that?”
My lips twitch. “I successfully convinced myself. But one conversation with you had my unfair assumptions unraveling. It really didn’t take long for me to know with certainty that you were not the monster I’d built up in my head.”
Amusement tickles at the edges of our link. “And yet, you continued investigating me for the murder of your sister.”
I bite my lip. I know he’s not bothered by this fact now, but I still feel a small sense of shame. “I was stubborn,” I tell him. “And I was afraid of the minuscule chance that you were playing me.What ifI was wrong.What ifyou were just a really, really good actor?”
My heart floods with warmth and certainty. I feel what he feels for me, or at least a small part of it.
“And now?” he murmurs.
I smile against his chest. “Still not sure,” I blurt out.
He jerks back and then barks out a surprised laugh. Our link makes my joke very clear in an instant. I’m pleased by the fact that I can still surprise him sometimes.
I grab the back of his head and pull him down to kiss me. We fall into each other like opposing winds crashing, swirling in a powerful dance. We stop soon, though, and relax into each other’s arms.
“One day, it could all be over,” I say it like I believe it, but in reality, it’s more question than statement. It’s only part of the puzzle, but it’s a large one.
“It will be only the beginning, sunshine.”
51
Tribunal
Jarron keeps his arm casually slung over my shoulder as we enter the massive, shadowed chamber. I shiver against the chill air of the caves and pray I don’t trip on the uneven stone. There is a massive pit in the middle of the floor, with swirling black and red magma that lights up the cavern the closer we approach.
It’s kind of awesome but also petrifying.
Heat creeps up my neck the closer we get to the glowing pit.
Soon, my skin is tingling with heat. Concern flutters through my bond with Jarron, but I send him a reassuring look. Humans don’t often come into this part of Oriziah, so he’s uncertain how much my body is able to tolerate.
“You tell me if you become uncomfortable,” he mutters.
“You’d know, even if I didn’t.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Laithe marches beside us with their chin high.
Today, it will be us three standing for the fate and future of Oriziah. The rest of the royal family will have to wait. Behind us, the King and Queen of Oriziah follow closely. The queen’s skin shimmers white with black streaks. Her wings pearly white.
“Welcome,” a hunched demon says with a bow of her head. She is small in stature, with reddish skin like Laithe’s. Her skin is leathery, but she has no wings. Only six-inch-long, straight black horns separate her appearance from the witches I met the other night. “To the Bright Tribunal hearing.”
Jarron’s translation is so quick I barely have to focus. The demoness’s voice has a low echoey quality to it. I can’t tell if that’s from old age or simply common for her species.
Behind her is one of the black-haired witches from the other night and another who is younger and taller, with a willowy frame and bright red hair.
“I see we have a foreigner in our midst,” the tallest demon witch says.
“This is Candice,” Jarron says, stopping few feet short of the group of witches, “my chosen mate.”
