Chapter 6
1382 Words
Rhysand’s golden eyes gleamed almost too calmly, as if feeding on the fear flickering in mine.
His dragon loomed before me, danger rolling off its massive form like heat from a forge. The thick scent of sulfur filled my lungs, and my stomach twisted so violently it felt like it might burst.
Hunger. Danger. Death. Everything terrifying danced in the dragon’s golden eyes as they locked onto mine. I could barely breathe.
“No one meets Ralor and lives to see the next day,” Rhysand said about his dragon, his voice sharp and merciless. Not a flicker of humor. Not even the ghost of a smile. “She’s as brutal as she looks.”
My heart sank. Slowly, I let out a bitter breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Nice.
So this was his version of saving me?
Bringing me into the jaws of a dragon—his dragon ready to burn me to ash if I couldn’t prove the gift of the three stars. And of all the gifts, he was only interested in the one I couldn’t summon—the power to stop time.
“With all that said…” His voice was calm, too calm; you could sense the danger dripping from his tone. “Sorenna Thorne, you have exactly five minutes to show me what you’ve got.”
The sound of my full name on his lips sent a sharp chill down my spine. Not just fear—recognition. Like he’d known it long before I ever spoke it.
I didn’t know exactly why my mother had warned me to avoid him, but I was beginning to understand. Rhysand wasn’t just a man. He was a threat stitched into the very fabric of power. And I could already sense—deep in my bones—that he could destroy me if he wanted.
His gaze bore into me, unwavering, relentless, like he could see the very organ inside me threatening to explode from its frantic rhythm.
He rose from the bed, the bed I was certain would be the most comfortable I’d ever sleep on.
But fear, tight and pulsing through my veins, stole that comfort before it could even reach me.
It dulled the dreamy edges of the chamber and made the glow of the walls feel distant. The mirror of the marble floor blurred.
The air was thick with lavender and vanilla, heavy enough that it clung to my lungs as if I could swallow it whole.
He began to circle me, not like a protector but like a predator. Like I was prey. A prey he had caged to his advantage.
I bit at my tongue for trusting him in the first place; knowing I was making the biggest mistake, I still went with him. Between him and the other princes out there? I didn’t know who was more dangerous.
Each step he took felt like a calculated strike, quiet but deliberate. His golden eyes locked onto me with a fire that burned too deep for a stranger. It wasn’t just coldness. It wasn’t just authority. It was something personal. A hate I didn’t understand rooted in secrets I hadn’t been told.
“But truthfully?” His voice lowered, rough and lethal like a blade dragged across stone. “I almost hope you fail to prove you can stop time. Because what would satisfy me more than anything… is watching you burn to ashes.”
He stepped closer, eyes darkened by something deeper than hatred…something broken. “And if there’s one sight I wish your mother were alive to see… it would be that.”
He stopped moving the moment he noticed my body freeze.
My breath caught. My eyes burned with a rising sting, and my heart clenched so tightly, it felt like I had swallowed poison.
Was he there… when my mother ran into the sword that killed her?
I knew he was there. I’d always known.
But had he watched her die with satisfaction?
Had he stood among the rest of the Sylvarrians… and enjoyed it?
“You should never speak ill of the dead, Rhysand Velcaryn,” I said, my voice low but unwavering. “Or didn’t your king teach you that when he adopted you into his family?”
A cold, mocking smile curved at my lips. Everything around me began to blur—the danger behind me, the dragon’s looming breath, even the threat of death itself—it all faded like a forgotten nightmare.
Because when it came to using my past against me… You’d be proud of yourself.
Because it would work. Every damn time. And Rhysand knew that.
He was using it to provoke me, to haunt me, to rub my mother’s death like salt into a wound that never healed.
But if he thought I would break, he hadn’t seen the worst of me yet.
“Well then,” he said, his voice low and cutting, “no offense if I wished you’d join her tonight. That would serve as the revenge I’ve always prayed for.”
His golden eyes darkened, gleaming with a shadow that wasn’t just anger, but something deeper—pain, regret, a burden he carried silently.
“Or didn’t your mother ever tell you how she implicated my parents? How she condemned others marked with the tattoo of the prince like me.”
There was a rawness beneath his words, as if he was recalling wounds too fresh to fully heal.
Wait… something didn’t add up. Did he just say my mother was responsible for implicating his parents? I had known he was marked as one of the traitor princes because his family was branded as betrayers, but never once had I imagined my mother was the one who set them up.
A cold knot twisted in my stomach, but I refused to let it break me.
The princes—now called the Marked Traitor Princes—were once ordinary sons of Sylvarra’s noble families. Their parents had been found guilty of rebellion and were reduced to flames.
King Kaelvar Velcaryn, in an act of twisted mercy, gave these sons a second chance at life. He adopted them as his own, making them part of the royal prince clan.
But the mark of traitor remained branded as a tattoo on their arms, a permanent shadow they would carry for the rest of their lives.
But had my mother really been responsible for the death of their parents? No way… Mom wouldn’t let anyone die for nothing. She didn’t have the heart to kill. She only fought to the point of taking the sword that ended her own life.
“If you think my mother’s death gives you satisfaction, or that watching me burn in your dragon’s flames will please you, then you’re a cold-hearted bastard,” I spat, clenching my fists. I stepped closer until our noses nearly touched. “I don’t feel sorry for you or the parents you claim were burned by your now so-called father, King Kaelvar Velcaryn.”
I knew I shouldn’t have spoken those words, but I’d already dug my own grave, and he wouldn’t hesitate to let his dragon burn me alive the moment I failed to stop time.
His jaw clenched tight—sharp and defined—making his striking, handsome face almost unbearably compelling.
His piercing golden eyes and sun-kissed skin seemed to glow in the midnight darkness around us. His dark hair was slightly tousled.
Why was I admiring his almost heavenly beauty right now when I was about to be killed by him?
He was one hell of a beauty, but as they say, hell looks beautiful… and would burn you to death.
“One more minute left, Sorenna Thorne.” His fist tightened, yet his eyes never broke contact with mine, no matter how much they seemed on the verge of shattering like broken glass.
His ability to hold back amazed me. I thought he would’ve killed me with his own hands before letting his dragon finish the job, but no, he still stood there, his presence towering and intimidating. The heat radiating from him was enough to make me melt.
“Now. Show me. Sorenna Thorne.” His voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade.
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