The air in the throne chamber had barely settled when Zayn slammed the doors shut behind Azara and himself. The guards knew better than to follow. The moment was too volatile—too dangerous for any eyes but theirs.
He leaned against the cold marble wall, his head tilted back, eyes closed.
Azara stood near the center of the chamber, silent, her fingers lightly tracing the arcane glyph etched into her skin. The firemark still glowed faintly on her throat—a match to the one now binding itself into Zayn’s very veins.
She had once led a rebellion that nearly brought his empire to its knees. And now, fate and the system had chained her to his side. Fire to fire. Blood to blood.
Zayn opened his eyes slowly and studied her.
“You shouldn’t be free,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You sh
