“The children of the fallen females are not allowed to be treated as bastards. They receive full privileges of their sire’s house.” She bloomed as bright as the roses speaking of her accomplishment.

“I like that,” I said, offering her a soft smile in return.

“So you see, Assyria, we can enact small changes from the inside. Perhaps that is why the Fates brought you to us, so that you can point out these injustices that happen outside my knowledge. Because of you, I will send out my priestesses with warnings to stop this practice.” Kiira pulled off her gloves and set them aside.

Something that felt a lot like contentment blossomed in my chest. Maybe Kiira was right, and by being mated to Rokath, I was able to save others from the pain I had endured.

But could that be enough for me?

“Come, let’s get something to drink before the midday heat wipes us out,” she said, rising to her feet.

Knees protesting, I did as well, tucking our gloves and tools into the bag and hefting it over my shoulder as we returned to the palace’s cool interior. I left it at the door while Kiira called down the hall for drinks and a light midday meal.

“Do you not want to pray?” I asked her.

She cocked her head to the side, studying me. “Do you want to?”

“Not really,” I admitted. And then, a laugh burst from us both.

“We can rest on the loungers, and you can tell me more about your family,” she giggled, steering me to a different part of Xannirin’s chambers.

We spent the afternoon there, talking endlessly, Kiira filling me in on the inner workings of the nobility who resided in Uzhhorod, her life as High Priestess, and a few of her fond memories from childhood, while I shared the same, speaking of my pastoral life, my sister, and what I had learned in the army. As the hour grew later, we moved to Rokath’s chambers, but he did not return.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, our bond was like a violent itch, so insistent that it drowned out any other thoughts that I might want to have. Kiira, sensing my fatigue and inattention, excused herself to return to Varbad Temple after our third meal of the day.

Once she departed, I scoured every room in Rokath’s apartments for some alcohol, hoping to numb the pain and put myself to sleep. Finding a half-empty bottle stashed in a cupboard in the bathing chamber, I unstoppered it and whiffed.

Spice assaulted my nostrils, reminding me far too much of my mate.

But this was my only option. So, holding my breath, I tipped a mouthful of the liquid into my mouth and forced it down. With a hiss and a cough, I pulled the bottle from my lips. My tongue burned, all the way up to my nostrils, pulling water to my eyes.

The effects were almost immediate, so I took one more drag, then tucked it away again. Two should be more than enough. Half-stumbling, I returned to the bed, stripping out of my dress and climbing into it. It was massive, large enough that should Rokath return, we’d never have to touch each other. Selfishly, I settled myself in the center of it, closing my eyes and taking a few slow, deep breaths to settle my mind.

Thankfully, between the alcohol and the events of the last day, sleep sank over me and pulled me off to a land where everything was better and I was free.

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29

Three. Fucking. Days.

I hadn’t slept since before that Fates damned bond snapped into place. My temper was at an all time high, and the slightest issue sent me smashing everything around me. I couldn’t even bring myself to feel bad about my behavior or the way I yelled at every officer or soldier in my path.

The mate mark was an insistent ring scorching my back and searing my heart. It wanted me to go to Gyor Palace, to my chambers, to claim my mate. Whenever I stepped west, it punished me with a forceful tug.

I was ready to fucking leave Uzhhorod just so I could have Assyria close to me and ease the relentless begging from this magic.

My cock strained against my pants as I stared up at the ceiling of my tent, borderline painful despite how many fucking times I’d fucked my hand.

I couldn’t even come, for Fates’ sake. Every time I tried, I ended up more frustrated than when I’d started. It was as if the bond were punishing me for trying to do anything other than sink into the wet, warm cunt of my mate.

It didn’t help that those bow-shaped lips entered my vision every time I closed my eyes. The drawings Kiira made of her were nothing compared to the real thing. Assyria was the type of female I could crave. Her fire, her sharp wit, her beauty. All of it could easily become an addiction, a distraction, when everything was at risk and one wrong move would send everything I’d worked for crumbling to ashes.

With a string of curses, I threw the sheet off of me and stalked to my dressing table, snapping armor into place and relishing the pain from the force of the motions. Anything to calm the disquiet in my mind. Grem and Zeec were on their feet and wagging their tails by the time I finished. It was still early, and I had time to sneak away before any planning sessions.

I am simply going to Gyor to see Xannirin, and hopefully make this bond chill the fuck out.

My hounds followed me into the breaking dawn, racing alongside my black stallion as we entered the city gates and wound our way through the streets to the palace. With each step closer, the bond eased, and I cursed it too, for rewarding this behavior.

It was early enough when I arrived that Xannirin was still sleeping. I knew better than to think he hadn’t gone to bed hours before. Kicking myself, I strode from his study toward our wing of the palace.

I am going to wake him up, not go into my chambers.

The sentries noted my approach, offering me a salute and stepping aside. I knew from their daily reports that Assyria hadn’t left the wing and spent the majority of her time with Kiira in the garden. Ignoring them, I turned right and toward the doors to Xannirin’s rooms. The bond burned my back, locking my spine from the pain. Gritting my teeth, I breathed through it. Assyria was so close, I could feel her just on the other side of these walls, and it knew that too.

“I am not going to see her,” I growled, as if the bond were a living being that could hear the fury dripping from my tone and bow to it.

It did no such thing.

In fact, it punished me again for entering my cousin’s sitting chamber. “Fucking Reaper,” I muttered, finding it in disarray with a trail of clothing leading to my cousins bed. In it, the Kral of the Demons slumbered, fully nude, with a female on either side of him.

“Assyria better not have witnessed any of this,” I barked, lack of sleep, the bond, my temper all melding into one and becoming a projectile to fling at the nearest target.

With a start, Xannirin woke, rubbing his bleary eyes. He looked around, as if he were trying to uncover why I was so angry. Then, he nudged each of the premier fallen, rousing them. “Get out,” he instructed.

With a glance at me, one yawned, then rolled out of the bed, giving me a wide berth as she went in search of her clothes. The second scurried away faster, keeping her head down the entire time. Tingling heat pierced every fiber of my being while I waited for the telltale click of the outer door closing behind them. I was so, so close to losing the last shred of sanity I possessed.

A smile spread across Xannirin’s face. “She participated.”

With a snarl, I leaped on him, pinning his throat beneath my massive, tattooed hand. The fucker only laughed, clutching his abdomen and trying to catch his breath. “That was too good of an opportunity to pass up,” he wheezed, and I shoved off of him.