Thread of Darkness

Ch. 22: impossible to feel otherwise

She took a step closer. "You've enjoyed the last few months, haven't you? Parading me around in front of your court. The fearsome Nightweaver Queen, reduced to a trained circus monkey that claps whenever you command it to."

Ryne's jaw tightened. For a bizarre moment, Anna thought that he might apologize, but then he looked at her and said, "Dragon."

"What?"

"Not a trained monkey," Ryne said. "A dragon. You're far too violent to be a monkey."

Her grip on the knife tightened. "Answer the question, Delafort."

"Which was?"

She took another step. "Did you enjoy it?"

Her voice was slow. Each word measured. When Ryne met her gaze, his eyes were the colour of the thickest part of the woods, the deep green that rarely saw sunshine.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

A wave of anger — so swift, so stunning in its intensity — punched her in the gut. She wanted to push him. To shake him. She thought of the last few months. Of floating in a dreamless existence, desperate for a visit from a man that she didn't love. Of Sophie and June and Henry, somewhere in Wynterlynn, waiting for her to arrive. Of all the Nightweavers that were killed while she was locked in a Tower.

What had Nyxos said to her?

I want you to take back Wynterlynn.

The knife twitched in her hand. She forced herself not to move.

Eris is worse.

She thought it again and again, trying to burn the words into her heart. If you kill him, Eris will get the crown. Eris is worse. Eris is worse.

"Ah," Ryne said. "You want to hurt me."

He didn't look surprised, only mildly curious, as if discovering that a button was missing on his coat. Something messy tangled in her chest.

"I don't want to hurt you," Anna said. "I want to destroy you."

His mouth curled. "Go ahead."

Anna took a step closer. They were inches apart now, her knees pressing into his knees; his apple-sweet breath fanning her face. "I could do it, you know." She pressed the cold blade to his neck. "There's a pressure point — just here — that would render you unconscious. Nobody would hear you scream."

Ryne's eyes were dark. "Do you always play with your food?"

"Bad habit." She perched on his lap, running the blade down his throat. "Don't worry, Delafort. I have no intention of biting you."

"Pity," Ryne murmured. "I liked it the first time around."

The knife paused. "I only slept with you to get the Map."

"But you enjoyed it."

She drew back. "I tolerated it."

Ryne's mouth curled higher. "Liar."

"If you think I enjoyed bedding you," Anna said slowly, "then you're delusional."

"Really?" His eyes were bright with fever. "You didn't enjoy any of it?"

"No."

Ryne leaned forward, his mouth ghosting over her jaw. "Not even the part where I kissed your neck? Just here?"

She half-closed her eyes. "No."

A slow, rhythmic throbbing began in the pit of her stomach, a hot flower unfurling its petals. When Ryne spoke, his voice was low in her ear."What about the part where I pushed you into the wall, fisted your skirt in my hands, and made you beg me to keep going?"