[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
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A sharp clinking sound of glass on glass rang in my ears as I frantically shoved the jar onto the shelf in front of me, nudging a space for it between the others. My skirt billowed up like a bell as I whipped around. A scream of terror almost ripped from my throat as Florin charged toward me. I stumbled backward. My spine hit a table's sharp edge and a bite of fiery pain sliced through flesh and bone. Behind me, stone and wooden bowls clattered on the table from the forceful knock.
Wide nostrils flared as Florin tipped his head down, horns slicing through the air and smoke rolling off his figure like wind surging through a campfire. Intense power stirred the Stormbird's feather. As if it were responding to his fury, the silky vane wavered with the dark energy trembling through the air.
I was short compared to Graysen, but it was nothing compared to the Horned God. He was a giant running down a tiny mouse. His long shadow reached where I stood quaking, my knees buckling beneath me.
My father's deep voice filled my mind once more.
Who are you, Nelle?
Strength and entitlement flowed through my veins like gold raining into coffers. My family held rights within the world of Houses. I came from a long line of imperious rulers, and I needed to remember that. I squared my shoulders and sloped up my chin, squeezing my fingers together as if I gripped my adamere bracelet. I held my ground against the terrible wrath of the Horned God, for I was a Wychthorn Princess. If he was about to bite my head off, literally, then so be it. I refused to cower.
Suddenly a broad back swathed in soft black swept in front of me. Graysen held up his hands to pacify the Horned God. "I'm sure it's simply a misunderstanding," he gritted out hastily, but he was completely ignored by Florin who stamped to a stop.
The Purveyor of Rarities glared and bent his huge frame downward, peering over Graysen. His breath washed across my temple and my hair wavered. "You dare to steal from me, Wychthorn Princess?"
Graysen slid a step sideways, twisting around to face me. My heart hammered in my chest as I tucked my hands behind my back. His gaze was full of dread. I widened my eyes, blinking back innocently. At my innocent look his eyebrows slashed downward and his mouth flattened as if the sliver of hope he'd held onto that I hadn't done as accused, crumbled. Black hair ruffled as he tipped his head back, shifting his weight onto one hip. He braced one hand on his waist and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other, releasing a pained sigh. "Fuck. Please tell me you didn't."
I clicked my tongue and made a half-committal humming sound, wondering how to get myself out of this predicament.
"What do you have in your hand?" Florin snarled.
Hellsgate!
Bringing out my right hand I opened up my palm and showed him that it was empty. Florin huffed through his nose. Dark blood-red eyes slit. "And the other," he ordered with quiet menace.
