I kissed her forehead. “Then in a few hours.”

“Scythe,” she said, confused. “You don’t know what will happen, what Rorn might do…”

“We’ll find out soon enough.” I kissed her nose. “So get some rest.” Stars knew she deserved a lifetime of it after all she’d endured from the male who had made vows to cherish her—from the foolish fuck who had impregnated another instead.

“Helvectus was your father.” She whispered, urgent, “Tell me your real name.”

I crawled over her and said to her lips, “When you tell me yours.”

“You already know it.” I did know, but I kissed her until she surrendered the information I wanted. “My father called me Aster.”

The secret I’d never shared with anyone left me with unexpected ease. “My name is Helvectus Jade,” I murmured to her lips, “and this stars-forsaken isle will burn before I let your husband keep you.”

I claimed her mouth again, hard and groaning when her arms wrapped around my shoulders and her fingers clasped my head. And then I forced myself to leave her as she reached for me, her lips swollen and her gray eyes murky with fear and desire.

Doral was sharpening a blade by the door when I returned. He didn’t so much as glance at me as I shut myself back inside the cell. “What game are you playing, Helvectus?”

I laughed low and settled against the wall for a few minutes of sleep. “I’ve no fucking idea, Doral, but I do intend to win.”

THIRTY-ONE

Aster

“Rorn wishes to see you,” Theenon said without knocking.

I ceased gnawing at my fingernails and crossed to where he stood at the parlor door. “Where is he?”

I’d struggled to sleep after Scythe had left. Instead, I’d tried and failed to find Rorn to attempt reasoning with him again. No one would tell me where he was.

“The king?” Theenon lifted a brow. “Or the prisoner?” I glared, crossing my arms, and he sighed. “They’re both in the dining hall. Rorn is finishing breakfast.”

I asked nothing else and hurried down the stairs, my robe threatening to open and a chill sweeping into my bones.

Doral stood guard by the doors with a younger wolf, and they both eyed me with unveiled interest. I ignored them and pushed open the doors myself. They thudded to a close behind me as I froze and beheld what awaited within.

Scythe was seated at one end of the long table. His hands were bound in iron to the wooden armrests of the chair. He watched me, a gleam in his eye that tried to convince me he was fine.

Rorn sat at the other end, dabbing a napkin at his chin. “You could have at least dressed, wife.” He set the cloth down and pushed his chair back to recline slightly. “We have ourselves a guest, after all.”