Onyx Storm: Chapter 18

I cannot imagine sustainable life beyond the Emerald Sea. No ship has ever survived the tempests that form its ice-tipped waves, and the only sailors who return from her exploration do so defeated.

—The Last Admiral, a Memoir by Admiral Levian Croslight “

alden!” I rush to kneel by his side, and the shadow evaporates like it was never there. “Are you all right?”

“My prince!” Anna jumps to the cobblestone, panic filling her eyes, as his second guard joins her. “Oh, Halden, are you…”

Not just his guard? My eyebrows rise as I glance at her hair. Yep, redheads are definitely his type.

Halden waves her off as he visibly fights for breath, and both guards retreat.

Thank you, Malek, Xaden didn’t kill him. There isn’t even a crack in the rock above his head. “Give it a second, and you’ll be able to breathe,” I promise Halden, praying his ribs aren’t broken.

Bootsteps approach from behind me, and a wave of glittering onyx wraps around my mind like a caress.

“Sorry about that,” Xaden says, his tone implying otherwise. “I was blocking a potentially lethal blow to the first-year and seem to have knocked the wind right out of you.”

I arch an eyebrow and slowly look over my shoulder at him. “Seriously?”

“He was going to touch you.” The glacial rage in his eyes has mine widening.

“Right, because that’s the mature response.”

Halden sucks in a breath, then another. “Quite. All. Right.”

“It wasn’t a response, it was… It simply was.” Xaden crouches behind me as Halden pushes himself to sit upright. “Let’s get three things straight, Your Highness. First, I have remarkable hearing thanks to the shadows at your very feet. Second, I don’t control Violet. Never have. Never will. But third, and most importantly—” He lowers his voice. “She really, honestly hasn’t thought about you. At least not since the second she set eyes on me.”

I’m going to fucking kill him.

• • •

A-I-M-S-I-R. An hour later, I’m still seething as I sit with Rhi on my bed, turning the fingernail-size bronze dials until each letter is visible in the book’s locking mechanism. My finger hovers over the tiny lever that will either open the book…or destroy it.

“I can’t do it.”

“We could talk about how your non-boyfriend threw your clearly ex-boyfriend into the wall instead,” Rhi says. “Or even chat about how you’ve never mentioned you were in a relationship with the prince.”

“Never seemed important.” I shrug. “He was just Halden to me like Aaric is…Aaric, and I promised myself I wouldn’t give him an ounce of my headspace when he turned out to be the asshole everyone warned me he was.”

“A prince? A duke? Clearly you have a type,” she teases. “Did Xaden know?”

I shake my head. Halden didn’t have Xaden arrested, but there was a definite gleam of promised revenge in his eyes when he strode up the stairs with his guards.

Class ended shortly after that.

“That explains the wall,” she muses.

Xaden’s complete and utter lack of control over his temper because he’s venin is what explains the wall, but I’m not exactly going to say that to her, so I change the subject. “Aimsir. It’s the right answer,” I say, mostly to myself. “My father’s world rotated on the axis of my mother, and they didn’t meet until their third year. Her first real love would have been Aimsir, and she was irreplaceable. Our entire family’s happiness rested on her health and survival.”

“You don’t have to convince me.” Rhi sits with one leg bent under her and her hands outstretched toward the book.

I rest the tip of my finger against the lever. “You think you can save my ass if I’m wrong?”

“I’ve never tried to retrieve six vials’ worth of liquid…or any liquid, but I think I can grab enough that at least all of your father’s work won’t be ruined.” She flexes her fingers, then sighs. “And if that rune activates…well, there can’t be too much power stored there. Probably just enough to destroy the book.”

“Probably.” I nod. “I can tell you I’d rather climb the Gauntlet again than be wrong about this.”

“Then don’t be wrong.”

I’m not. Lilith is the obvious answer, and therefore it’s the wrong one. Anyone else would have entered it without a second thought and ruined the book. No, he left this for me.

I press the lever.

It sinks into the mechanism, and my heart stumbles over its own beat when I hear the metallic click of the device unlocking. The book opens, and the six vials of ink pivot to lie flat along the pages, their contents perfectly sealed. “Thank you, Zihnal.”

“I think that one might be better directed to Hedeon, but I’ll take whatever god is with us,” Rhi says, scooting closer as I rotate the book so we can both read.

“A History of the Second Krovlan Uprising—Draft, by Lieutenant Colonel Asher Sorrengail,” I read, smiling at the familiar sight of his formal handwriting.

“All of that for a history text.” Rhi shakes her head. “You Sorrengails are something else.”

I flip the next page and suck in a sharp breath at the first words.

Dear Violet, It’s written, but I can hear his voice say it so clearly in my head that my eyes immediately sting.

“Not just a history text, then.” Rhi wraps her arm around my shoulders. “How about I give you some time with your dad? I’ll knock when we need to head out for flight maneuvers.”

I nod silently in thanks, and Rhi leaves through the door, closing it behind her.

I want to read it all instantly, yet simultaneously limit myself to a single line so I can save another for tomorrow and then the day after, like I have with my mother’s journals. I could make it last, keep him with me as long as possible.

But I need the knowledge now, so I lift the book onto my lap and begin.

Dear Violet, It’s my most sincere hope that you are reading this by my side, laughing at the glorious mess that is a first draft, but I fear that may not be the case. If I now walk alongside Malek with your brother, then guard this manuscript carefully. But if the worst has happened and your mother has joined us, then you must protect this knowledge with your very life. Within these pages, you’ll find my careful study of the second Krovlan uprising, but my daughter—remember what I taught you about history: it is simply a collection of stories, each influenced by those that happened before and steering the ones to come. I wrote this study so it could be read by others but understood by you. If time is sweet, peruse at leisure; you’ll find the connection between the uprising and the pursuit of feathertails to be both alarming and enlightening. But if time has indeed run out and you seek the weapon to defeat those you’ve only learned about through lore, then abandon your robes and ride for Cordyn. You have always struggled with Krovlish, but I made sure Dain would be capable should you need him…should he not choose to cross the parapet this summer. If he follows in the footsteps of his father, you must find the strength to let go of your affection for him. From Cordyn, book passage to Deverelli—you will be safe beyond the reach of magic there—and quietly seek the merchant Narelle Anselm. Take her the rarest item you possess—be sure it’s truly exceptional to be given what you need. Do not send another in your stead. Should you travel under the banner of Navarre, beware their king—he bears grudges and speaks only in profit. I’m so sorry this falls to you, my brightest light.

Trust only Mira.

Love, Dad I read the page over and over, committing it to memory even as my mind races. How would he have known a merchant in Deverelli? Seek the weapon… Did he know about Andarna? About the rest of her kind?

For the first time in my life, it dawns on me that maybe I didn’t know my father as well as I thought I did.

Narelle Anselm. I relay the information to Tairn and Andarna.

“Safe beyond the reach of magic?” I ask them, then fold the parchment and hide it back in the book.

“There is no magic beyond the Continent. It is why we dragons remain,” Tairn tells me. “Why it is surprising the irids left our shores.”

“I know what to bring with us,” Andarna adds.

“I have come to the same conclusion,” Tairn growls, “but do not wish to spend my time with nursery gossips.”

“Do you truly think the isles are our best chance of finding your kind?” I ask.

“I think it’s a better plan than flying north until we expire,” Andarna answers.

“Agreed,” Tairn chimes in. “If the captain is so convinced, then split the squad in two, but we will head for Deverelli.”

Someone knocks.

I startle, then quickly lock the book and shove it under my pillow before crossing to the door and opening it.

Xaden stands at the threshold, his hands gripping the frame on both sides, his flight jacket unbuttoned, and his head bowed.

My immediate elation is slain by logic.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, trying to look past him to see if there’s anyone else in the hallway who could report him.

“Did you love him?” The question is a low rumble of sound.

“Someone is going to see you!”

“Did. You. Love. Him?” Xaden lifts his head and pins me with a look that borders on feral. “I have to know. I can handle it. But I have to know.”

“Oh, for Amari’s sake.” I grab the lapels of his flight jacket and yank him into my room, and he flicks his wrist, shutting the door behind him. The loud click tells me he’s locked it, too. “I was with Halden years ago.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that.” His brow knits as he nods. “I picked up on a lot of things he was thinking.”

I blink. “That’s not how your signet—”

“Did you love him?” he repeats.

“Holy shit.” My hands fall from his jacket. “You’re actually jealous.”

“Yes, love, I’m jealous.” He splays his hand over the small of my back and tugs me toward him. “I’m jealous of the armor that holds you when I can’t, the sheets on your bed that caress your skin every night, and the blades that feel your hands. So, when the prince of our realm walks into my classroom and starts talking to the woman I love with what can only be considered intense familiarity, and then has the audacity to ask her out right in front of me, naturally, I’m going to get jealous.” He brings our bodies flush.

“And put him into a wall?” My hands skim the cold skin of his neck to cup his chilled cheeks. He’s been outside for a while.

“I told you I would.” His gaze bores into mine, and my pulse skips. “Back in Aretia, remember? Right after I put you on my throne, spread those beautiful thighs—”

I slip my thumb over his perfect mouth. “I remember.” And so does my body, which is instantly heated.

He nips the pad of my thumb, and my hand falls away. “I told you I’d feel jealous and then I’d kick his ass. I might have turned, but I’m still a man of my word when it comes to you.”

“You’re Xaden Riorson.” I rise up on my toes and press a kiss to his chin. “Shadow wielder.” Another at his jaw. “Duke of Tyrrendor.” My mouth brushes just beneath his earlobe. “Love of my life. You have nothing to be jealous of.”

His hand flexes along my spine, but then he steps back, putting a few feet between us. “Did you love him? Violet, you have to tell me.” The sharp edge of desperation in his voice does me in.

“Not the way I love you,” I admit softly.

He retreats until his ass hits my desk, then stares at the floor. “You loved him.”

“I was eighteen.” I search my memories, trying to think of a better word to describe what I’d felt for Halden, but come up blank. “We were only together about seven months—a little before his Conscription Day until December. I was infatuated and enamored, and at the time, that rush of utter beguilement was what I knew of love. So yes, I loved him.”

He grips the edge of the desk, and his knuckles pale. “Fuck. And he’s going with us. I caught that, too.”

“Yes. And I get it.” I cross the distance between us. “It’s really hard for me to see you anywhere near Cat—”

“I never loved Cat.” Xaden’s head whips up. “Sure, the idea of”—he swallows like he might puke—“Halden putting his hands on you makes me want to put him back into the wall, especially given the fact that he can touch you and I can’t, but knowing he’s been here—” Xaden puts his hand just beneath my collarbone. “Has me considering murder so there’s no chance of him worming his royal ass back in.”

“He can’t touch me.” I lift his hand and press a kiss to the center of his callused palm before putting it back above my heart and holding it there. “This will only ever be yours. You could leave me or even meet Malek, and it still would be. I’ve made my peace with knowing there’s no getting over you.”

He moves faster than I’ve ever seen, and in a blink, his hands are full of my ass and I’m up against his chest. “Stop me if I cross the line.”

That’s the only warning he gives before his mouth is on mine.

He lays claim to every inch of my mouth like it’s the first time, with deft, skillful flicks and plunges of his tongue that devastate me in the best possible way.

The second he surges forward, I can’t bring myself to care why he’s kissing me like tomorrow doesn’t exist. The world tilts, I feel the bed beneath my back, and I only care that he never stops. We can live right here, never taking it a step further as long as he keeps his lips against mine.

My hips arch up as he settles between my thighs, and the weight of him feels so damned good that I moan. Limiting ourselves to the kiss only makes it that much more intense, like we’re both desperate to elicit every sensation possible in the simple yet infinitely complex connection of our mouths.

Madness. This need between us is always the sweetest madness. He is the craving I’ll never sate, the rush I’ll never get enough of. Only him.

I hook my ankles over the small of his back and kiss him with every ounce of longing that’s built within me over the last few weeks. He sucks my tongue into his mouth, and I whimper as heat flushes my skin and addles my mind.

“I love you,” he says against my mouth and rolls his hips.

“I love you.” The confession ends on a gasp as I feel just how hard he is for me. My hands slip down his muscled back over the leather of his flight jacket. “I miss you.”

“Violet,” he groans, his hands capturing mine, pinning them above my head—

No. Not his hands.

Shadows.

My breath hitches. He holds me as a more-than-willing captive while he kisses me over and over, a heady combination of urgency and demand paired with determined restraint.

He slides the backs of his fingers down my neck, and goose bumps rise on my skin as pure, electric need runs the length of my body. “Fuck, your skin is so damned soft.”

My only answer is a whimper, then a moan when the caress is followed by his mouth.

“Yes.” My hands tug at their bonds, and I arch my neck for more.

“Still just a kiss.” He works his way down my throat and grasps my hip—

He rolls away from me so quickly that I almost go with him, and I’m left staring at my ceiling, gasping for breath, but at least he’s in the same condition.

“Fuck.” He throws his forearm over his eyes. “Please have mercy and say something—anything that distracts me from how damned good you feel in my arms.”

I blink, trying to force my mind to function, and the soft bands of shadow retreat, freeing my wrists. My heartbeat slows just enough to allow logic to creep its way in, and I shove my hands back under my pillow to keep from reaching in his direction.

The book. “My dad left me a letter. He needs me to go to Deverelli.”

His head whips to me and I slowly turn mine, locking our eyes. “Then we’ll go.”

My body isn’t big enough to contain how much I love this man. “We’d have to go under the pretense of searching for Andarna’s kind, and I think that’s what he’s alluding to, but I could be wrong. I have to read the research.”

His brow furrows. “You still think we should search the isles, right?”

I nod.

“Then it seems like we can accomplish two goals with one trip.”

I ghost my tongue over my swollen lower lip. “Searching the isles means we’d need the audience with the king, which requires leaving the wards to get an artifact for the King of Deverelli and calling in help from Halden, so it’s not that easy a choice—”

“It is. If my dad left me a letter…” Xaden rolls up onto his elbow. “You can tell me all the ways it’s going to be shitty, and I’ll still say let’s go.”

“The artifact is in occupied territory.”

His face tightens. “And if I ask you to stay behind, all cozy and safe while I get it?”

I shake my head.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He sighs. “At least it will be a chance to evaluate how we function in this squad Grady has put together. When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible.”