Page 41 of Ashborne Phoenix

I finally found my wits, leaping forward to reach for him, certain she’d hurt him—but in the same moment, he snarled and the hand he’d extended flew in a blink.

Did he backhand her, sending her to her knees—or did she duck his blow? It happened too quickly. There was a thunderclap of sound that rang in my ears this time. It shrouded both of them in those coiling shadows, but then a blink later it was as if it hadn’t happened at all.

My breath rushed out of me.

Lady Ashford knelt on the floor, the fingers of one hand clawed into the carpet, staring up at Voski, her eyes wide and shining with fervor?

“You… y-you broke my—” she whispered.

He hissed and loomed over her, his shoulders rising and falling with his heaving breaths, hands free and ready to strike again as he snarled.

“Touch her, or me, without permission one more time, and I will not wait, Mother. I will take the mark from you.” I stared at him, frozen, as the shadows that had congealed around her seemed to flicker in his eyes. But then he blinked and they disappeared. His eyes never left his mother, though.

“Grace?” he muttered. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

He nodded, then leaned down further until his nose was only inches from his mother’s. “This is your last warning.”

She nodded slowly, but her throat bobbed.

If a painter had chosen this moment to immortalize, every viewer would have sworn the woman—a supplicant—knelt before her king, one hand to her chest, the other reaching for him, an expression of awe on her face. But her ruler was dark, angry, intimidating. A feline man, his immense strength hidden under a sleek exterior.

He looked noble, elegant, and cruel. And for a moment, my heart reacted to that picture—to the man I’d known before, and I shrank away from him before I caught myself.

But Voski caught it. His head snapped up, his eyes finding mine.

‘You never have reason to fear me, Grace. Never.’

I nodded, because I knew he was right. But there was no time to discuss it as he snarled another warning to his mother, took my hand and led me to the passage in the wall.

His hand trembled.

I gripped it with both of mine as he dragged me forward, muttering things I didn’t catch. Then we were in the dark walkways between the walls, and he was forced to slow to find our way in the nearly pitch-black passage.

I placed one hand on his back, the other still firmly in his grip, and I felt the shaking in his muscles there as well.

‘What did she do to you? Are you hurt?’

‘No.’ The word was short. Curt. As if he didn’t want to speak it. Was he lying?

‘Voski, what—’

‘I used the power to stop her,’ he said, his voice slow and thick in the link, as if the words were dragged from him.

Startled, I stared at the back of his head. But he didn’t turn, and he didn’t slow. He drew me inexorably forward, through the walls.

My head spun. ‘The power… you mean this… magik?’

‘Yes.’ That single syllable dripped with dread and horror.

I didn’t know how to respond.

‘You’re… you’re a sorcerer?’

‘I’m a Cruor. I told you that. But I haven’t touched that cesspit of power for nearly eight years and… God, Grace. Don’t abandon me. I swear it was only in your protection. I’d never… I’d never use it against you.’

I didn’t doubt him.