All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

D rake lounged against the wall of one of the darkened exterior corridors outlying the Trench with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Kjeld train Creslyn. He didn’t mind that his most trusted general was holding her hips, enforcing her proper stance, because Kjeld’s eyes reflected strict discipline. He would demand the very best from her and settle for nothing less. And Creslyn would give it, if for no other reason than her stubborn pride.

Whereas if Drake was in his same position, he likely wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her. So, Kjeld would train her in the art of combat, while Drake would withhold his lessons for the bedroom…or anywhere else he deemed fitting.

At first, he almost pitied her.

She was too delicate, too demure.

He’d seen her body, had memorized every perfect dip and curve. But she was without muscle and strength where it mattered. Her arms were weak, her core lacked definition, and her thighs could use some plumping. Especially if she ever wanted to ride a dragon. But that was discussion for another day, as she was nowhere near ready to venture down to the lair.

When Kjeld coaxed Creslyn to throw her first punch, he dodged it easily. She threw her entire body into it and sailed past him, careening face-first into the muddy ground. And Kjeld had allowed her to fall, exactly as Drake had instructed. She would not be shown favoritism in the Trench, nor would she be given a shred of sympathy.

After she pulled herself up from the muck, the slashing rain slowly washing some of the grime off her face, she glared at Kjeld. Fury radiated from her, and the sapphire in her eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns. She was a quick learner, and Drake knew speed would certainly be in her favor, especially when she wasn’t wearing a dress that likely weighed an extra fifteen pounds when it was soaking wet.

In retrospect, he would suggest she wear a slightly less revealing gown tomorrow.

One of her sleeves had torn and she’d ripped it off completely, discarding the ribbon of fabric like it was an utter nuisance. Her water-logged beaded bodice sagged dangerously low, and she continually yanked it back up, huffing in annoyance as her breath misted before her. The rain had plastered her sheer skirts to her legs, the hem covered in mud as she slogged through Kjeld’s rigorous demands. Even with her hair drenched, clinging to her neck and shoulders, with smears of filth covering her cheeks, she made Drake positively ravenous.

He scanned the Trench, eyeing the rest of his soldiers. More specifically, the men. Not a single one of them looked her way.

Good.

They were doing exactly as they’d been instructed to do as well. Though Drake had promised to gouge out the eyes of anyone who considered stealing a glance in her direction.

Creslyn kicked off her shoes, apparently annoyed by the way they sunk into the sludge beneath her. Drake smirked when she tossed one at Kjeld’s chest in frustration. He caught it with one hand, and Drake didn’t miss the slight twitch of his general’s lips before she launched the second one in retaliation.

Already she was improving. She was faster. Sharper.

All because she was angry.

He wanted her to channel that rage. To wield it like a weapon. If she wanted to survive in Brackroth, she would need to be able to defend herself in his absence.

Kjeld said something, and Creslyn whirled around to face him. Drake couldn’t be sure, but he was almost positive she fired back with an enthusiastic “fuck you.” She reared back and swung upward, in damn near perfect form, landing a solid punch on the underside of Kjeld’s jaw. His head snapped back like he’d taken a hit from one of their best dragon riders. Creslyn’s eyes rounded, and she clamped both hands over her mouth. But Kjeld’s booming laughter exploded throughout the Trench, and he flashed her a blood-stained grin.

He placed his thumb and forefinger at the corners of his mouth and loosed a loud, piercing whistle.

At once, the soldiers ceased their training and stood at attention, their gazes homing in on their general and not on the mud-caked fae standing next to him.

Kjeld offered Creslyn his arm. She scowled but accepted, gathering up her ruined skirts as she stomped out of the horrendous weather.

Drake stepped back into his shadows. The cold surrounded him as he moved with stealth through the stretches of darkness, causing a shiver of fear to race down the spines of anyone he passed. His power was a vice, an addiction he craved. To most, it might be damning, but he thrived on inciting terror and panic—his cruelty knew no bounds. He enjoyed the way people whispered desperate prayers and pleas to their gods whenever he crossed their paths. He possessed no heart, no soul, both had been lost to him years ago. For Drake, there was only the thirst for more power.

Except now there was Creslyn.

And his desire for her was deeper and darker than even the most poignant sensation of bloodlust that coursed through his monstrous veins.

He remained in the furthest corner of her bedchamber, slinking into his shadows, when the door flew open and she stormed inside.

Creslyn slammed the door behind her, barreling toward the bathing suite without noticing him. A trail of muddy footprints followed in her wake. “Of all the foul, vulgar things.”

She faced the long, mirrored wall, its onyx frame carved with whorls and painted with silver swirls. Shoving her damp, filthy hair back from her face, she gripped the edge of the wide white marble counter and screamed.

Creslyn ripped off her gown, a torrent of obscenities erupting from her pretty mouth. Drake grinned, admiring the ferocity with which she tore at the bodice, her fingers clawing at the ruined fabric as she yanked the laces undone. Shreds of sodden pink cloth landed in a heap at her feet and when she stood in nothing but a scrap of triangular gold lace, his blood heated. Drake drifted closer to the bathing suite, withdrawing his shadows and morphing into his full form. He reached up, gripping the top of the door frame with both hands, his nails biting into the hardwood to keep himself from touching her.

If she sensed him watching her, she made no show of it.

Instead, she stalked toward the glass-enclosed shower and turned on the faucet, silent as ribbons of steam slowly fogged the room.

“I swear to the stars,” she mumbled, fisting her hands at her side, “as soon as I see him again, I’ll?—”

“You’ll what, kearsta ?” he purred.

Creslyn shrieked, spinning around so fast her bare feet slid out from under her. Drake moved like lightning, snaring her by the waist with one arm to keep her from falling.

She righted herself and tried to shove him off, her palm smacking soundly against his chest.

“How dare you?” she spat. “How could you possibly do such a thing? You threw me out into the Trench with no preparation. No warning!”

He kept his hand firmly around her waist, his thumb running back and forth along the thin string of lace, strumming lightly. “I knew you’d refuse.”

“You know nothing about me.” This time she swatted at his hand, but he refused to release her. “I am only a lady, Your Highness, not a warrior. And I am even quite terrible at that! You can’t expect me to fight. I’ll never be able to throw a dagger or carry a sword. I cannot be what I am not .”

“Then you will learn.” Drake pulled her closer, tipping one finger beneath her chin so she looked up at him with piercing eyes full of stars and fire. “No wife of mine will be left defenseless.”

She crossed her arms, her lips pursing in displeasure. “I suppose it was your idea to make me train in a gown?”

“Yes. And you will continue to do so until I have you fitted for leathers.” He trailed his finger down her neck, hooking it beneath the collar of pink stones at her throat. Her pulse jumped at his touch and the corner of his mouth curved. “Do you enjoy sparkly things, solysa ?”

“You know very well that I do.” Creslyn jabbed him in the shoulder with her finger. “But you’re changing the subject.”

He was indeed, with purpose.

“Then perhaps I know something about you after all.” Drake bent his head low, letting his lips trail across her flesh, and whispered his next words along her neck, just to see. “Tell me what it is you desire most. Sapphires as blue as the ocean? Emeralds that glitter like the northern forests? Moonstones that shimmer like your pretty rainbows?”

She shivered in his arms, goosebumps pebbling over every inch of her satin skin.

He was getting closer to his answer.

Pressing a faint kiss to her fluttering pulse, he moved to her ear. “Or perhaps you’d like me to please you with a strand of pearls between your thighs? Or devour you while diamonds drip from your ears, neck, and even your breasts?”

The scent of her arousal slammed into him, and he swallowed a groan. Oh, yes. She would like that very much. His little faerie would take all he offered her. The hunger inside him roared to life, awakening his shadows. He clamped down on his urges, he couldn’t risk scaring her. Not yet, anyway.

“My breasts?” she asked, a tremble in her voice. “How?—”

“There are ways,” he murmured, easing back.

“No.” Creslyn planted her hand on the solid wall of his chest, where his heart pounded with greed. “You’re doing it again. We are not discussing jewels, my breasts, or anything else. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to move, much less fight, in wet silk?”

Just hearing her say the word wet almost snapped the last of his control.

“No. But I must say.” He flicked his tongue along the tip of her ear. “You looked rather ravishing in it.”

“It’s…” Her gaze narrowed and a scowl pulled her brows together. “I…you watched me?”

Drake grinned. “The entire time, solysa .”

“You bastard!”

She raised her hand, and he caught her wrist right before her palm connected with the side of his face.

“Have you learned nothing?” he growled, no longer caring if the truth of his nature reared its ugly head.

But Creslyn didn’t shrink away from him.

“Arrogant ass!”

She moved so fast, he barely had time to react. In one fluid movement, she hoisted her knee high, preparing to make direct contact between his legs, forcing him to hunch over to avoid the blow. But then she twisted, raising her arm so her elbow struck him right in the throat. Sudden pain left him gasping until he felt the sting of her palm against his cheek.

Drake coughed, choked, then laughed. He pounded his fist against his chest in a valiant effort to catch his breath. When he looked back over to her, she was enveloped in a cloak of steam and her lacy underthings were discarded on the floor. Creslyn stepped into the shower, shutting the glass door soundly behind her.

As though she could ever dismiss him.

He sauntered over, propping his shoulder against the wall, and watched in silence as she washed away the sweat and grime. She shampooed her hair and scrubbed her body, the rain scented bubbles gliding over her bare skin. Every so often she sent him an absolutely scathing look, but he was far too impressed with the pain ricocheting from his throat down to his chest to care.

Drake folded his arms, intrigued by how… comfortable she seemed around him. For some reason he couldn’t quite place, it left him unsettled.

“You did well today, Creslyn.”

Her gaze shot to him and held, recognizing the slip of intimacy he’d given her.

He’d called her by her name.

Agonizing seconds ticked by while he waited to see if she would accept his lack of an apology.

“Thank you…Drake.” She rinsed the soap from her body, her eyes never leaving his. “Is there something else you wanted to discuss, or are you simply going to stand there and stare at me?”

Drake bit back another grin. He rather liked it when she was feisty. “I have something you might find of interest.”

“Oh really?” she drawled in disbelief. “And what’s that?”

He waved his hand through the air and an envelope appeared between his fingers, the silvery gray wax seal indicative of two flaming swords.

Creslyn swiped at the glass, rubbing away the condensation, and he’d never seen anything quite so radiant than the look on her face. “Is that from House Emberspire?”

Emberspire, one of the five houses of Aeramere, was also the home of Lord Asher Firebane. The fae lord was bonded to Novalise, Creslyn’s eldest sister, and last he heard, they were set to be married. Drake and Asher had a somewhat complicated past in terms of bargains, but it was only made worse when they were bound by some ridiculous fae law to fight to the death for Novalise’s hand. Even though Drake didn’t particularly want to kill Asher, he would’ve done so out of duty had Novalise not chosen that exact moment to reveal she possessed the magic of the starstorm—an ancient power thought to have died out from her family’s bloodline entirely.

Either way, her daring interjection served Drake well.

He never wanted to marry her, anyway.

Drake flipped the envelope back and forth. “Perhaps.”

Creslyn squealed, shut off the shower, and he handed her a fluffy black towel. She wrapped it around herself, knotting it just between her breasts, then looked up at him from beneath her damp lashes. “May I see it?”

Gods, why did she have to be so damned perfect?

He handed it over.

Creslyn tore it open, her eyes flitting over every word.

“It’s a wedding invitation! For Novalise and Asher.” She skimmed the contents, her smile widening. “Can we go? We will go, won’t we?”

Drake tucked his hands behind his back. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

It wasn’t as though he could ever deny her. Anything.

“Thank you!” She leapt up, throwing her arms around his neck, and her towel slid to her navel.

Torture.

She was torture in the purest form.

She leaned back and he adjusted her towel, wrapping it back around her.

“But,” he amended, “there are matters we must attend to first.”

“And?” Creslyn prompted.

“And what?”

She tilted her head, shaking out her hair so it glamoured dry, the silver strands dusted with shades of pale pink, purple, and blue falling around her like a hidden waterfall. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Drake clicked his tongue. She was incredibly perceptive. “It’s nothing that needs to be discussed now. We can talk about it after breakfast tomorrow…with the king.”

Because now he and Creslyn both had been summoned by Marius. The last thing Drake wanted to do was subject Creslyn to the king’s heinous behavior, but he had to pick and choose his battles.

“Breakfast with the king.” She was bouncing on her toes. “How exciting.”

Drake grabbed both of her shoulders, hauling her against him. “No. No Creslyn, it is not exciting. King Marius is vile, a cold-hearted bastard of a man with a temper.”

She arched one brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then.”

He knew her remark was in jest, but this was not the time for games. When he responded, a chill swept through the bathroom, and she shuddered in his arms. “We are not the same.”

She searched his face, looking for an answer he could not give. “But…but he’s your father.”

Drake stared at her and said nothing.

She stiffened. “You make it sound like I won’t be safe with him.”

“Which is why Kjeld is training you.” His hands coasted down her arms to her wrists. “Which is why you must be on your guard. Always aware. Trust only myself and Kjeld, no one else.”

Creslyn nodded slowly, but wariness clouded her eyes.

He would explain in more detail when he could, but all she needed to know right now, in this moment, was that so long as she was in the company of him or his general, then she would be safe.

Drake took her hand, pressed his lips to her knuckles in a fleeting kiss, and then released her. “Goodnight, solysa.”

“Solysa ,” she repeated softly. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t move when he said, “Sunshine.”

Creslyn refused to break eye contact, watching him with the same collected evenness as he gazed upon her. “And kearsta ?”

“Darling.”

Her brows lifted, and Drake considered her a moment longer. “Do you prefer one over the other?”

“No.” She clasped her hands together, looking quite pleased. “I rather like them both.”

He nodded. “Then both it shall be, sjellhert. ”

“Wait!” She reached for him, but he stepped away from her grasp. “What does that one mean?”

“That,” he said quietly, “means something you do not yet understand.”

Drake left her then, vanishing into the shadows of her bedroom to stand watch.