Page 78 of The Incendiary

Valda laughed ruefully. “And you know that’s not what I mean.”

He released an irritated sigh. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

After a long bout of silence and a relentless tapping sound—Elias with his pen, probably—Valda asked, “Who even found the body?”

I arched my eyebrow, waiting for the truth.

“I did,” Elias answered.

My jaw dropped, and something other than distaste bloomed in my chest for Elias Winterton. He had made me a target for the entire group of cadets during the first challenge, but now he was trying to protect me from his own second-in-command. Either he was overly intrigued, or I’d convinced him I was trustworthy.

Maybe I was winning. Elias might have handily won our fight on the mat then stolen a piece of my heart from around my neck and left it hidden in the middle of a lake full of deadly fish. He might have singled me out and isolated me. But right now, I felt like I was earning my place.

TWENTY-ONE

GAVIN SMYTH

I’ve had a lot of time to think, and you’re still the person I trust most in this world, despite everything. I’m not sure what that says about me.

I don’t know that I care.

I thought time and distance would pull me away from you, and I thought that was what I wanted.

But they haven’t, and it wasn’t.

—UNSENT CORRESPONDENCE FROM QUEEN ARYELLA I TO THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA

31st of Helios, 402 Years Ago

Two weeks passed without my seeing or hearing from her. Three times I’d climbed the cliffside path with every intent to barge into that castle and make sure that she was okay. That I hadn’t fucked everything up somehow.

I only sat in this loud, raucous tavern in a sad attempt to keep my mind off her.

It wasn’t working, and I didn’t really want it to. I was a glutton for punishment. Missing her was better than not thinking of her at all.

I felt like half my body, heart, and soul weren’t even mine anymore. I dangled aimlessly in space with no direction or purpose outside of her. She was my home now.

“I like her best when she has my cock in her mouth.”

I ran my palm over my face and scowled at the three idiots sharing this table with me. Keeves, Dawes, and Royce. I’d spent a good portion of my younger years trailing after them, only to grow up and realize they were assholes I couldn’t stand. Vile, childless, and wifeless, they now followed me around. I’d put up with their company before, but now all I could think was that every woman they degraded could be someone’s Ella.

My mug spun in slow, methodical circles beneath my fingers as I glared at Keeves. My leg bounced under the table, an outlet to my irritation.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Smyth?”

“You’ve been boring as shit for weeks,” Royce said, picking food from his teeth.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled.

“Holy shit!” Keeves shouted an exclamation over whoever had just entered the pub. “That one’s a beauty. I’d pay to have that hair wrapped around my fist while I shove my cock⁠—”

“You’re fucking vile,” I grumbled, shifting forward as something cold and dark crawled up my spine.

“But look at her, man!” Keeves pointed behind me. “Her hair is fucking silver.”

I choked on my beer and was on my feet before my next heartbeat, chair kicked out from under me. Sure enough, my Ella stood in the threshold of the pub, looking around with her big, breathtaking doe eyes. The most beautiful thing the assholes in this tavern had and ever would see.

Her loosely flowing, short-sleeved pale pink cotton dress was cinched at the waist to hug her perfect curves. A pale silk shawl covered her shoulders, attached to a thin hood draping over silver-blond locks. She was somehow more beautiful every time I saw her.