❛in which they grow to love and learn❜
Briar Desilva hated. She hated the Cursebreaker and the High Lord of Spring. She hated her mind and she hated her body. She hated the memories that danced beyond her reach and the past that was and always has b...
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"in the end, even the stars choose destruction over life."
❀❀❀
WHILE BRIAR WAS scared of much, she was more often than not quite solemn in the face of creepy, crawly things. Spiders? Not a big deal. Their legs were spindly in a dreamy sort of way, their webs a type of silk she would dress herself in if she could. Heights? Why be afraid of such a thing when it can show you the whole world, all its nooks and crannies and the entirety of its beauty? And why be afraid of being buried alive when it allows you to become one with the earth? To breathe in the emptied breath of soil and rooted trees, to be at home in the deep levels of minerals and gems?
She was usually unafraid, usually fearless.
That being said: small spaces? Not her thing. Chickens? Gave her the creeps. The violent and violet-eyed male standing before her, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian? He had struck more fear into her heart in the split second he had arrived than she had ever felt in her many years of life.
Her heart beat so fast she swore it might just fly out of her chest to cower in the darkness shadows of the dungeon, the shadows that were swirling and pouring out of the spymaster like water in a river.
The two males that stood before her were terrifying. The High Lord of the Night Court stood before her, body rigid with tension and face etched in a dangerous snarl. She had never laid eyes on this male before - at least not that she could remember - and his entire being screamed elegance and viciousness. Darkness practically radiated from his brown skin, powerful and shining and deep.
She had tried to kill his mate. His wife. Now, he looked like he wanted to kill her.
All at once, Briar became aware of a presence in her head, prowling between her eyebrows and in between the fissures of her brain like a lion stalking his prey. It was a talon, a claw, stroking her mind in its predatory way, reminding her of her utter helplessness as the source of this mental power stared her down, a growl ripping through his throat.
And there was Briar, bound to a chair and surrounded by darkness and now vaguely remembering the whispered rumours of the males power. The power of a daemati.
Maybe she shouldn't have tried to kill his mate. Maybe she wouldn't have if she had remembered what he was.
If it weren't for the shadowsinger holding him back, both his strong arms gripping the male's shoulders with an iron grip, she was sure her face would be clawed off already, her mind turned to mush and body to mist.
