He snorted, and more of that wicked hate flowed down our bond. “Do you not think I feel the same?”

Gritting my teeth, I shoved every ounce of my loathing toward him. “The feeling is clear in both directions, don’t you think?”

A flash of something that looked a lot like desire crossed his eyes, and his jaw tightened. Another wave of emotion flooded me, and I had to work to block it out and remain locked in our stare down.

Rapp shattered it for both of us. “One problem, Rokath. She’s female. By your own rules, we don’t allow them in the army or in the camps.”

His attention snapped to his officer. “I am aware. She can pretend to be a page, as she clearly demonstrated, she does not have to always appear as a female.”

Fuck that.

“I’m kind of tired of being someone other than myself,” I snapped, rising from the table. My chair scraped back, wobbling with the force of my movements. “It appears I have no choice but to be trapped against my will. But you cannot force me to use my magic to appear as someone else, so I won’t. Take me with you, or leave me here, I don’t care, but I will not bow to this.”

All reason fled my brain. I was just so damn angry about the whole situation. Using my magic would keep Rokath, me, and the entire Demon Realm safer. But at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I threw my dining cloth on my plate, then spun on my heel and stalked toward the door we’d used to enter the room.

“Assyria,” Rokath barked, his tone laced with threat.

I ignored him and kept walking. Pain speared into me, so acute it robbed me of breath. Its source wasn’t from Rokath or me, but rather the bond itself, as if it had ideas of its own and didn’t want us separated. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, and I quickened my pace. Before I reached the entryway, Rokath grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. I spun into his chest, landing against the hard planes, and everywhere our skin touched burned. The bond eased, as if it had gotten what it wanted and would relent on its assault.

Rokath stepped back immediately, reacting as though he’d been struck by a snake. Then, pain flared again.

“We are not finished,” he hissed. “Sit down.”

“Make me,” I snarled, yanking my wrist from his grip. Again, the bond punished me for breaking contact.

Fuck you, Fates.

Rokath sucked in a sharp breath, momentarily closing his eyes as if he were struggling for control, and Rapp burst into laughter. We both shot him a look sharp enough to kill. Xannirin smothered his own with a juicy slice of melon.

“If that is what you want,” Rokath groused, and then I was airborne, ass flying high while my face nearly smacked against his backside.

“Put me down!” I shrieked, banging my fists against the planes of muscle.

He did, roughly, in my seat.

“Rokath,” the High Priestess chided, “she is your mate! At least treat her with respect.”

“No,” he growled, stalking back to his own and yanking it roughly. “I don’t have time for this. For her. I have a war to win. I have to keep all of us safe. And I can’t do that if this fucking bond is eating at every ounce of my attention!”

Rokath gripped the arm of his chair with so much force I thought the wood would splinter at any moment. His chest heaved with more, and the way Kiira’s expression softened left me wondering if there was something beneath his words.

If he didn’t have time for me, I didn’t have time to offer him sympathy or pity. If I had to suffer, so did he.

Xannirin dropped his dining ware with a loud clatter, drawing our attention. “This whole situation is getting out of hand too quickly. Rokath, your bond is fresh, which is making you extra grumpy, so maybe you should keep her with you for that alone. I can’t have you barging into Gyor with an inferno of out of control emotion every time Assyria has a bad feeling. Get over yourself and get your head on straight because you do need to win this fucking war. If that means fucking her senseless, then get to it, even if she doesn’t want to.”

“That’s enough!” Kiira snapped, rising to her feet and planting her hands on the table. “Xannirin, how dare you tell Rokath to rape her. And Rokath,” the High Priestess vibrated with the force of her fury as she slashed her attention to him. “Get to know your mate. She seems intelligent, and maybe you can figure out why the Weaver chose this path for you both.”

Then, her attention turned to me, a look of sympathy etched onto her face. “Assyria, I am so sorry that you’re in this situation, but Xannirin and Rokath are both right. Our lives depend on Rokath defeating the Angels. I have seen that he will stride through the streets of Sivy carrying the heads of two important Angels, so we know that it is coming. Can you please sacrifice for a little longer?”

For a long moment, I studied her. The tears brimming in her burgundy eyes, the dark circles beneath them. Then the black dress draped over her slender frame and the tension held at the corners of her mouth. Of the four, she seemed the most genuine, and despite my hatred for the priestesses, for this whole situation, she might be my only ally.

Perhaps if I spoke with her, privately, after all the tension had bled from this encounter, I could beg for her help. She seemed to hold sway with her cousins with how they shrank back in their chairs like chastised children. At this point, I wasn’t above manipulating the situation to grasp an ounce of control over it.

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “But I will not pretend to like it, or Rokath, and I still want to be me. I had enough of pretending to be the male who abused me.”

My eyes burned, and I had to blink rapidly to clear them.

She nodded, reaching across the table and squeezing my arm. “Rokath and Rapp will find a way for you.” The withering look she offered both of them held no room for argument.

“I promise,” Rapp added quickly. Rokath said nothing, and Rapp threw an orange at him.

He bared his teeth at the Hadvezér. “Fine.”

“Can we eat without further animosity now? I’m starving and this food is a million times better than what we get in camp. I’ll still eat it cold, but I’d rather not. Plus, Rokath and I need to return before we’re missed,” Rapp complained, drawing a laugh from the High Priestess and Kral Xannirin. The intensity of the moment waned, and Kiira settled in her seat once again.

“Yes, eat, the matter is settled for now,” the Kral pronounced.

I picked up my fork and shoveled another helping of food into my mouth rather than retort that the matter was very much not settled. Agitation still rolled off Rokath in waves, traveling down our bond. I sent my displeasure right back.

My mate was an enigma. First, an asshole, filled with fiery fury and a desire to make me fear him. Then, he offered me a semblance of choice. The mention of my abuser set him on edge. What was his end goal with all of this? Was he weaving some multi-layered trap? I didn’t trust him, or any of the burgundy-eyed Demons at this table, and I’d be sure to keep my guard up around them all.

Because there was one thing I’d learned time and time again in this life: the only person capable of caring for me was myself.

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27

After quickly finishing our meal, I left Assyria with Kiira in my suite. Kiira assured me she was safe in her hands, and that she’d get the glass pane repaired that day to further soothe my anxiety. My cousin knew me far too well for my liking, especially when I was trying to hide just how much this new situation was throwing me off my straight and narrow path. By the time Rapp and I set out, the sun was too high in the sky, but I was more than glad to get the fuck away from there. I needed to settle my plans for my mate before preparing to ride off to war with her.