“Those fucking mental walls of hers,” he mutters. “They were fascinating when we had spare Anchors. Now, they’re just a liability. She only lowers them to berate me about her sister.”

“The empress’ mental architecture is unusual. Strong natural defenses.”

Orderly, I don’t say. Elegant. Beautifully constructed. I’ve never craved a challenge more.

A treacherous flicker of long-dead heat kindles at the memory of those adamantine walls. The secret, shadowed spaces behind them I want to chart—

I crush the thought ruthlessly. Salt the earth so nothing so soft can take root.

Cool disinterest. Distant respect. That’s all.

“Send Elias to guard her,” I suggest, wrenching my focus back to tactics. To logic and necessity. “His background will make him less hostile to the idea of protecting a Devaliant. The empress’ security is weak, and she’s given permission for us to keep her safe with no risk to the Accords.”

“That solves nothing long-term. I need her monitored.” His burning gaze meets mine, and I know with sinking dread what he’ll say next. “Your psychic skill exceeds my own. Will a bond give you full access to her mind if I transfer my Claim to you?”

No.

No.

No.

My shadow wings flare wide. “No.”

One dark brow lifts. “Are you refusing an order? Or admitting you can’t handle it?”

“I destroy things,” I remind him flatly. “I don’t protect them. I’m not a bodyguard.”

Power lashes against me as lightning skitters across his skin. “You do whatever the fuck I need you to do. Evander is chained to a bed, we have a confirmed fleshtrade operating in Hellevig using a codeword with possible Devaliant ties, and your metal just ended up around the empress’ neck. Desperate times, desperate measures. I want you to watch her. If she has ties to the fleshtrade, I want to know. If someone is making an attempt on my Anchor, I want to fucking know.”

I very carefully don’t react to the revelation that there are demigod poachers in Hellevig. That he neglected to lead with that critical piece of intelligence. It’s so like him to safeguard information until it suits his purposes and he can use it to back me into a corner with no recourse but obedience.

“A Claim doesn’t guarantee compliance,” I say. “Her mind could stay her own.”

“A risk,” he allows. “But a necessary one. Form a full sensory bond. You need to be able to locate her anywhere and reach her at any time. See into her thoughts for information, taste her fear, feel the shape of her wanting.” His head tilts. “Can you still handle that kind of intimacy? Or have you forgotten how?”

I swallow hard. This forced link will be unbearable. I’ll have to take rusted shears to the cancer of it behind my ribs. Dig it out. Trade soap and boiling water and the bright pain of flensing for the creeping rot of something far worse.

“I have the theoretical knowledge,” I say through my teeth.

And aren’t those the most damning words. The admittance that whatever atrophied scrap of selfhood I buried hasn’t rotted to nothing after all. That some instinctual relic recognizes the animal snarl of possession. The biting need to crawl inside her skin and curl up between the notches of her spine until she can’t breathe without choking on me.

Focus. Control. Breathe in and hold, lungs turned to stone.

“She might refuse,” I add.

“She won’t. Not if she values her life.” He turns to leave in a whisper of wings. “Five days, Blade. Settle your affairs and get your shit together. I’ll send Elias to mind the girl for now. And Bastien?”

I halt the growl building in my throat and shackle it down. “What?”

“Make sure she survives long enough to birth an heir. Even Evander can’t put her back together if she ends up splattered across her courtyard.”

Then he’s gone, leaving me alone in the corridor with nothing but the thundering of my pulse and the acid taste of bile in my throat.

I wrangle the tide of threatening emotion with ruthless precision.

Breathe in and hold.

Lungs turned to stone.

This Claim will be a necessity. A component in an overarching schematic, its purpose to reinforce the Shroud’s structural integrity and load-bearing capacity.

Nothing more, nothing less. The rest is altered brain chemistry. Misfiring synapses, chemicals flooding receptors. More to the point, my cock still works.

Lights flare as I enter my bedroom and strip out of my clothes. Every garment will have to be sterilized of the lingering scent of her.

I turn the tap on for the bath. Scalding water gushes forth, steam billowing to fill the space. I step beneath the spray and reach for a bar of astringent soap, dragging punishing hands over my skin again and again, abrading the flesh until it’s red and stinging. Still, I don’t stop. I have to cut away this filthy patina of humanity, scour the weakness from me like infection from a wound.

There is no room for gentleness here—only water and the sluicing of my blood down the drain.

OceanofPDF.com

50

ALEXIOS

IT’S THE PERFECT weather for breaking someone.

The salt spray lashes my face as the princess and I pick our way across the shore. We’re at the base of the Tokle Mountains, on the border between Asteria and Nyholm. I used to frequent this shore often centuries ago. Severin liked to fuck me against the rocks in the water, liked to listen to the rasp of our breaths while the waves lapped on the waterfront.

I breathe deep, filling my lungs with the familiar tang of brine—the smell of memories and betrayal and dead friendships.

The Devaliant princess’ footsteps sound beside me. I can practically taste her burning curiosity over her next test—her dread, too. I glance at her. She’s practically glowing with the remnants of Evander’s power, her pale, gleaming skin catching in the light. Not even a scratch unmended. I’d nearly forgotten how powerful his healing ability was, it’s been so long since I’ve seen it.

“You’re looking remarkably whole after my labyrinth,” I say. “The Wolf’s power should be locked up nice and tight in those cuffs, yet here you are without a scratch. Fascinating how that worked out.”

Her breath snags. I catch it, track it, and file it away with all the other fractures spreading through that composure she desperately tries to maintain.

I’m not truly surprised to find her this whole. Even bound, an Eternal is a force of nature. And one seeing his Chosen bleeding out and dying in his arms? He’d have moved mountains and slaughtered realms to save her.

But Bryony Devaliant is mine until the end of our deal, and so I want to see those cracks spread. I want her off-balance. It makes things more interesting.

“What’s wrong?” I stop and face her. “No clever comeback? Or did the Wolf manage to fuck the sass right out of your mouth last night?”

A flush crawls up her throat, staining those high cheekbones. “What happens between me and Evander isn’t your business.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. The second my Enforcer starts straining at his leash and slaughtering humans under my protection, it becomes my business. In fact, it’s the only business that matters.”

My hand shoots out, grasping her chin. She flinches. Smart girl. Fear is the only appropriate response when you’re a mortal stupid enough to play with gods.

“Do you know why he wears a collar, Princess? Why I keep his leash good and tight?”

Her pulse flutters beneath my grip. “He… He told me what my family did to Turpori. That the grief made him and Bastien lose control of their power.”