A Crown of Cursed Hearts (Kingdom of Blighted Thorns #3)

14. Tempest

14

TEMPEST

I f the fates wanted to torture me, they’d found the perfect way. My love had returned from the ether—I’d dragged him back with my will and my magic alone—and he didn’t remember me or what we’d shared.

It gutted me. Tortured me in a way nothing else ever could.

My chest constricted, like thick bands were squeezing tighter with each of my breaths. Hot waves of nausea churned through my belly, mingling with an icy dizziness that blurred the world around me.

He didn’t remember me. He didn’t remember anything we’d shared.

The words echoed endlessly in my mind—a cruel symphony gouging fissures in my heart. Each blink made tears crest but instead of tumbling down my face, they seared marks across my soul.

Reyla had lost memories of the time after she was drained, but Vexxion had only been drained a short time ago. Why had the fates stolen everything from the time we’d met? Had Vexxion blocked those memories? I couldn’t imagine why he’d do such a thing. His secrets had been revealed. He no longer held anything back.

Or so I believed. What else could he be keeping from me?

I could stand for hours in the bathing room, biting back my tears. I could rage at the fates for stealing one of the few things that mattered. Or I could look at this in a practical way.

He’d loved me once. I could make him feel that again.

Clinging to a scrap of a plan, I bathed and donned a nightgown, taking care not to look again at the roses in the vase he’d magicked onto the table beside the tub. My emotions kept slamming through me, and noting the flowers with more than the periphery of my mind would set me off. I’d start crying, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop.

The last thing I wanted from the man I loved was his pity.

When I stepped into the bedroom, I found it dark. A subtle sound sent me spinning that way. I grappled for a blade that wasn’t at my side and cursed myself for leaving my daggers . . . somewhere.

I was a fool. Mourning Vexxion’s loss fit. Leaving myself vulnerable to attack did not.

His soft breathing reached me, telling me the sound must’ve come from him. I crept closer, finding him slouched in a big chair near the cold fireplace with his legs outstretched and his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

I felt rather than saw his eyes watching me.

“You should sleep in the bed,” I whispered .

“ You will sleep in my bed.”

Without him? How could I bear it?

“I won’t, not until you want me there.” Turning, I strode across the room, stopping beside Drask’s perch to pat him. I pulled up magic and created a soft surface I could sleep on at the base of his perch, adding blankets and a pillow.

Vexxion stalked over to stand behind me, though he didn’t touch me. “Don’t do this.”

“I already did.” After retrieving my dagger from my clothing and laying it beside my improvised bed, I dropped down onto the smooth surface and covered myself with the blankets.

“That’s my family dagger,” he snapped.

“You gave it to me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I asked for a blade.” Closing my eyes, I pretended I didn’t mind his gaze raking across my face, though having him near was both glorious and pure torture. “As I told you, I was a dragon rider in one of the border fortresses before I went to the Claiming where you looped a collar around my neck. I hated being unarmed.”

A lot had happened between us, and I couldn’t believe something this perfect and pure could be wrenched so easily from his mind.

“At first, you offered me a sword hanging on the wall in your front parlor, but it’s too pretty. I didn’t want to damage it.”

“That dagger belonged to my grandfather and then my mother.”

“She infused it with her blood. So did you.” Back at Bledmire, what felt like ages ago. “You wanted me to use it to kill Ivenrail.”

“Why didn’t you?” His voice was soft and sweet in the darkness, but I wouldn’t mistake his tone for vulnerability. This man had been forged into steel in the fires of his father’s dungeon, and nothing and no one could ever break through the tall barriers he’d erected.

I thought I had, but he’d rebuilt them again.

“Killing him would’ve murdered you,” I said.

“You should have done it.” A hint of disgust twisted through his voice.

“You’re wrong.” What we had was worth fighting for. I reminded myself of that once more. “Go to bed. Sleep. We have a long distance to travel over the next few days, and I need to rest.”

With a grunt, he started to turn away before he snapped back to face me. He scooped me up and carried me over to the bed, shoving aside the covers and laying me on the cold surface. “You will sleep in my bed.”

My eyes pinched with tears and damn, it was hard to hold them back.

He pivoted and strode across the room to sink down again in the chair.