(TW: Violence, partial nudity)
Someone's heartbeat pounded loud in Callidus's ears.
With a trembling hand, Callidus reached up to touch his left shoulder, his fingers coming away slick with blood.
His gaze flicked upward, struggling to focus on the figure looming over him. Foster. The name flashed in his mind like a warning, but the significance eluded him in his dazed state.
He tried to find Cressida, but his vision swam with darkness at the edges. He forced himself upright, but his strength failed him, and with a lurch, he tumbled down another step, pain exploding as he landed.
Someone's throat clenched, vocal cords strained, unable to vibrate. There was a sound of scrambling on the staircase far above him, fabric and dress heels clacking against the stone.
With a grunt of effort, Callidus once again tried to push himself up. His muscles trembled until he managed to rise to one knee, his gaze fixed on Foster, who stood above him like an executioner.
Callidus tried to summon the intimidating presence he usually exuded, but his gaze fell onto the blade in Foster's hand and all he could manage was a hoarse whisper, "...that is my knife."
Having only heard the man speak a handful of times, Foster's voice was that of a stranger. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing it. Your guards at the gate took mine."
Callidus growled out a warning, "You... dare..."
But Foster stepped closer, hovering directly above him so that all Callidus could see was a pair of dark brown boots. "Yes, I dare," Foster replied coolly. "Sorry if you're not used to people fighting back against you, Your Highness."
As the pale man drew closer, Callidus's instincts screamed at him to defend himself, but his body refused to obey. And the only air he could sense was several steps above him, deeply embedded in the lungs he loved most.
Rapidly beating in her heart.
Descending the stairs at breakneck pace.
As the sound of approaching heels grew louder, Foster's attention momentarily shifted, providing Callidus with an opening. Fueled by adrenaline, Callidus lunged forward, grabbing the inside of Foster's knee, and yanking.
With a surprised yelp, Foster's knee gave way, sending him toppling backwards, the knife clattering to the ground. As Foster scrambled to regain his footing, Callidus reached out for the fallen weapon, but before he could seize it, Foster's elbow crashed down onto Callidus's bloodied shoulder. Agonizing pain shot through him, his vision blurring white.
Foster made a grab for the knife, but before he could reach it, a flurry of skirts collided with him, causing him to stagger backwards and grasp the handrail for support. Cressida's shoe slipped on the blade, sending it spiraling down several steps below. She stumbled, tilting forward, until Foster's arms shot out to catch her.
"Careful, Cress," Foster gasped, clutching her tight to him, his arms around her chest.
A low, guttural snarl escaped Callidus's lips. His fingers desperately clawed at the ground, trying to reach Cressida, his mind fixed on one thought: Foster needed to die.
The air violently surged.
Then, Cressida's hoarse gasp pierced the stairwell, her body collapsing against the railing, hand clutching at her chest. "Cress!" Foster called in alarm, "What's wrong?"
Callidus's heart seized in terror.
His senses were overwhelmed by the frantic rhythm of her breathing, the pulse of her life force, making it impossible to focus on anything else. It felt suffocating, drowning out all other sounds around him. Her gaze, wide with panic and accusation, locked on Callidus, and a sickening realization washed over him.
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Book Two: The Larkspur's Longing ~ A tale of deep obsession and devotion
Romance(Sequel to The Marigold's Larkspur) Crown Prince Callidus finds himself on the cusp of achieving his dreams. With Princess Cressida by his side, the woman he has long yearned for, their future seems promising. However, a formidable obstacle threaten...
