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you didn'
en minutes since the mark had burned itself onto my throat, he had managed royal guards, silenced three advisers, and positioned himself between me and the king with the practiced efficiency of a man who had handled
keeping my voice low because the nearest guard was
truth will ge
doesn't execute students for handling old artifacts," I said. "Half the professors at this acade
lse awake
t know I
to ask for your side of the story
ct and was simply waiting for the room to catch up. The royal hall felt smaller than it had an hour ago, the walls closer, the candlelight thicke
that hadn't finished burning. I had tried rubbing it away twice. Both times the pain was sharp enough to make my eyes water. Whatever it was, it had followed me up fro
d the audacity to want things. I had endured professors who graded me harder because proving me wrong felt like restoring the natural order. I had smiled through dinners where I wa
didn't understand simply because powerfu
I told
tightene
ssing to, and I'll cons
rgue, the king ro
he girl
urprised me enough that I almost forgot to be angry. The king
er. Step
hasn't been examined. We
ready told us wha
s moment. "The appearance of the mark is consistent with historical precedent. The bearer mu
d somewhere between my r
long?"
y ans
. I asked
t the pain drove me to my knees and a sound came out of me I would have been ashamed of if I hadn't been too busy trying to stay upright. The guard stumbled bac
t tou
teeth. "Can someone please explain what is happeni
Rowan was a man built for standing between royalty and consequences. He looked,
voice cut throug
s Prince
ademy knew it - Prince Lucien Draven, the crown prince who had disappeared three years ago. Officially dead. Unofficially everything from murdered to exiled to s
he was de
at objects that have spoken out of turn.
ad changed. People were moving toward the edges of the hall without being
e doors
would have been striking if it hadn't looked so thoroughly exhausted. He didn't announce himself, didn't slow down, didn't
lfway from his t
rk for. Not surprise. Not the cool assessment I would have expected from a royal confronted with an unexpected problem. It was
e mark
hand pressing flat against his own chest as though something had struck him there. The pain in my skin eased. Not gr
red a
I kept staring. I couldn't help it. I had never, in my entire life, felt another person's pain. Whatever had just passed between us was not m
tern tower. I objected to being transported anywhere without my consent. Rowan attempted to mediate and failed. None of it mattered
se the mark was heating again and the alternative was staying in a room full
" Lucien said, when I
e. It's m
rstand why we
ust, because an ancient artifact has decided my skin is a good place to leave a messa
ot
try to lock
kno
I haven't finish
ath everything was so visible that it rearranged my anger into somethin
etter answer to a man who had apparently
ered h
hrough my teeth, and I placed my hand in his because the pain eased the instant our skin touched
nction of whatever connected us. Not comfort. Not relief. A physical response to a magical bond, and understanding that made it conside
rridor when every candle in
. Instantly, like a breath
me closer in the same motion, and the mark went cold against my skin -
. Ancient in a way that had nothing to do with age and everything
home, m
ped br
, the fear there was different from every other expression I had s
ing that had alrea
t go," he
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