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I lowered myself onto the black cotton sheets, half rolling onto the dusty mattress.

Pain tore through my side. The wound had stitched itself closed, but beneath the skin, I felt bruised and broken.

Staring up at the planks that lined the ceiling while the sea rocked my ship the way a mother does a child, I waited for sleep to claim me.

Exhaustion sank into my very bones, yet sleep evaded me.

Feed the Throne. Feed the Throne. Feed the Throne. Whispers bled into my mind, lapping over each other in a language I somehow understood. They oozed into my mind like pus from a wound, pungent and festering.

I squeezed my eyes shut, reciting the chant in my mind.

I am not a monster.

I am Rythos Draven.

I can step away from the dark.

I rubbed the worn piece of silk fabric from Lyra’s pillow slip between my thumb and forefinger, humming the tune that released souls from their mutilated bodies.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, the whispers quietened, and I drifted to sleep.

Chapter Thirty

Escape

Lyra

Lyra

Helion stood at the foot of the bed, buttoning his white shirt hastily, light grey trousers still unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. His hair was devilishly tousled from the sinful betrayal we had committed, and that, mixed with the flush to his skin, made my stomach tighten.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat at the devastating ache throbbing down the shadowy tether in my chest.

Did Rythos know what I had done?

I had to betray you so that you could live, I thought down the bond, only to meet a wall. I knew he couldn’t hear me. But still, I continued pretending that was the only reason I had gone through with it.

“I know you are wallowing in self-pity right now, and I hate myself for saying this,” he said, smirking down at me with those dimples, my thighs clenching together against the echo of him inside me. “But I’m going to need you to get dressed.”

I glared up at him and stood, watching his throat bob as his eyes tracked my breasts bouncing with each stride to the armoire.

My skin tingled as his arousal stirred again, and I raised my eyebrows at him.

“I would gladly fuck that attitude out of you, Sunshine, but we have the end of realms to stop and a throne to claim. Unless…”

“Never again,” I gritted through clenched teeth, annoyance stirring the ocean of power pulsing through my veins at his infuriating chuckle. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain for one reason. Now it is your turn,” I snapped as I pulled on my pants, followed by the offensively white tunic. Its billowy sleeves ended in bands around my wrists.

“Helion?” I urged as I pulled on my boots.

“Not until we are safe,” he responded.

My fingers curled into my palms and I gritted my teeth.

I spun towards him, ready to slash my nails against his fucking throat.

Power radiated off him in droves, and his eyes burned like twin infernos. He flicked his hands, and they both lit on fire, the golden, unnatural flame radiating enough heat to make me cringe away.

“Here is the plan,” he said causally, playing with the flames on his fingers. “We get the others out of their rooms—they line this same hallway—and we make one extra stop for Cerilla before we leave.”